"Damn and shit. How did she do it? This wrapping paper's too thin." I realise far too late that I should have asked her. But how can you ask your lover how she made her paper knickers when your mouth is full of perfumed pussy? I urged myself to calm down and quiet down too or I'd wake him before I'd wrapped his present. The poor love had no idea; he's searched high and low this past month trying to find out what I was giving him for Christmas. I hope he likes it, I'd refused him often enough.
Walking into the kitchen I decided I'd make a start on the dinner and then wrap it. Cup of tea and a ciggy were first though, while I tried to figure out how to not tear tissue thin wrapping paper whilst trying to wear it.
I'd discarded the idea of just making a skirt or dress because he'd guess straight away and besides he already has me. This present was a very specific part of me. I really hope he's not disappointed. Oh my god... Sprouts. Jumping from the kitchen table I saw straight away that I hadn't forgotten them, they were there in the pan, grinning at me, daring me to light the flame before they were ready to start. Bastards. I hate sprouts. I checked the oven again to make certain the turkey hadn't got up and walked away during the night, with his butter coat and bacon pullover and his little chef's hat shoes.
I flopped back down onto the barstool at the breakfast nook, next to the kitchen door. Tea. Just nice. A timid knock at the door made me nearly jump off the stool and nearly drown myself simultaneously, when I gasped in with a mouthful of hot sweetness.
"Who the fuck is that at half past six in the morning?"
Through the frosted glass I could make out the blurred shape of Martin-from-next-door. Poor lamb. Martin was the young, very young man from next door, waiting to go back to college. He's made a point of being very helpful to his new, helpless, next door neighbour. Popping by every single day, co-incidentally always after hubby had left for work. He was a love, and I teased him unmercifully. He always managed to catch me in nothing more than my housecoat, once, for devilment, in a large towel straight out of the shower. No doubt I was a very good topic of conversation with his drinking mates, I noticed they were always curious about our house when they passed on their way to or from next door. No doubt I was a very good topic for a wank too, although I wouldn't trust a single one of Martin's friends not to try it on with me. Martin never had. Even after I began greeting him with only one button on the housecoat fastened. I sail very close to the wind sometimes.
Maybe I'll give Martin a present this morning too. Nothing too expensive. A quick flash. Not sure which though, breast or bush. Maybe both, it is Christmas.
Listening for movement from upstairs, I slid off the stool and as unobtrusively as I could, pulled off all but one button on my housecoat. Then, whilst trying to push loose, now dry fringe hair behind my ears I reached forward and turned the latch. I let a happy surprise paint itself across my smile as I declared in my throaty morning voice "Martin! What a lovely surprise." I waved my arm in the direction of the empty kitchen, which lifted the hem of my coat to reveal quite a large expanse of creamy flesh to his young eyes. Perhaps a little more than I had anticipated as I quickly altered the angle of my arm. But Martin had seen. His eyes had widened, his cheeks had flushed.
As he brushed past me through the strategically limited opening I leant forward and kissed his burning cheek, accidentally pressing my small, nipple hard, breast into his arm. "Merry Christmas Martin," I whispered in his ear, hissing the sibilance. This time, he blanched. He was changing colour faster than traffic lights.
"Sit down." I indicated a chair next to the newly polished kitchen table, which would need the linen tablecloth and serving mats at dinner if I didn't want to spend the New Year stripping and rewaxing. Never mind all that. "Martin. Would you like a drink?"
"Please, Mrs Edwards."
I took the opportunity, and with one hand on the table and the other on the back of the occupied chair, leaned forward to ask, "What in particular would you like?" My spread arms opened up the top of the housecoat. I looked down to see how much and was quite shocked at the sight of my naked breasts in such plain view. Too much? He would surely see my nipples. Too late now. The buttons I would need to modify the effect were lying loose in the pocket. I'll have to sew them back on later. Looking up I glimpsed him look quickly down. "Well?" I enquired. Martin's head came up and I leaned closer to hear his request. His eyes never left the view of my slightly rounded belly seen through the upturned valley of my tits.
"Anything, Mrs Edwards."
As I turned towards the cupboards Martin snook his hand into the pocket of his skate pants. And as his wrist fell from view I could tell; either they were deep pockets or no pockets at all. I smiled.
With his free hand, Martin took the glass of cold orange juice and thanked me. His other hand was buried deep in his trousers, but I could just make out movement under the baggy material. If this had been one of his pals then I'm pretty sure that the movement would have been wholly obvious, but Martin was discrete in his own fashion. I dithered over giving him his next present.
