Wrapping My Lips Around Christmas

My

first contest entry

, so here goes!

I grew up while the first wave of 'contemporary' Christmas music hit the airways. Bruce Springsteen's 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town, live released in 1981 was a staple played at his concerts years before it's hit radio.

I pay tribute to "Christmas Wrapping"

by the Waitresses

, a song that has been covered a couple times and was an ode to the the songwriter's distain for Christmas. The lyrics

are in italics

woven into MY story of Christmas loss and discovery.

The story, my first every "Lit" contest submission, is told from the perspective of a young woman, Pattie Arnold. The 28 year-old regional sales manager for a cable company in Madison Wisconsin meets, and has trouble connecting with, 34 year-old investment banker, Donahue Trent. Set in 1981 I'll infuse 80s references and imagery of trends.

On a personal note, I got to see the Waitresses twice while attending the University of Iowa during the early 80s, their song 'I know what boys like' put Donahue's full punk attitude and sultry voice on display. To say I 'crushed' on her was an understatement and the singer's first name (spelled differently) is my lead character and her last the first name of the man the lead chases.

Enjoy this story from 'Pattie Arnold's' perspective and if you could count the 80s' references and comment the number you found, I'd love that!

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November 29, 1981

"'Bah, humbug'"

I said to Julie on the phone, I was starting out my front window, snow falling, Thanksgiving in the rearview mirror.

"No, that's too strong, it really is my favorite holiday."

"You still love Christmas, don't you Pattie?" My slightly older sister asked, knowing the Christmas season hadn't been the same for us.

"This year has been a blur for you."

"I really don't have the energy Sissy," I continued on her thought. "I DO know what you could get me."

"Here we go, something deep and existential," Julie said considering the depth of our hour long conversation discussing life after "The Accident." I asked about Christmas gifts for the twins, three years younger than me, and five years younger than Julie, our conversation moving into the lack of action on my dating front.

We had become the seagate parents in our early 20s, losing Mom and Dad tragically in a car accident five years ago, Thanksgiving has been a disaster. We were holding onto the remnants of our Christmas traditions, most nearing extinction.

Julie voice cracked with emotion, reminiscing over the phone remembering "the smell of the pine freshly cut from our acreage, Mom and Dad huddling up us kids up on Christmas Eve, telling stories about each of us kids. I've set up the old 50s style Christmas train and other decorations in her house."

I had already put out my share, running my hand on the toy rocking horse, the long phone cord allowing me to wander into the living room.

"Remember them telling the story of how they met?" Julie asked, getting me to stop thinking of gifts my sister could get me, not swaying me off my deep thought.

"The perfect gift for me would be completions and connections left from last year,"

I said, my mind drifting through the past 12 month dating timeline, queuing up memories that were both frustrating and exhilarating.

"Ski shop,

right?" Julie said with a slight question in her voice. "Do you still have his number?"

"Yeah, that one was

most interesting,"

I said the flash of 'his' flesh in my mind had my hand drifting down towards my waist. "I've got to go Sissy, bye!"

"Jeez, I know that tone," Julie said to herself after I hung the phone on her, quickly ignoring all the nostalgia and going straight to impulsive self-satisfaction. I had become an "sexpert" in the art of pleasuring myself.

I slammed the phone into the wall unit, it dinged loudly echoing through my living room, newly lined with Christmas decorations. I was eager to get to a comfortable spot to 'reflect back' on the ski shop encounter with the handsome, older man, I seemed to meet again and again that year.

I pushed off my shorts and panties, laid back and remembered the first time "His" velvety cock crossed my lips.

January 15, 1981 - 'Runner's Ski Shop and Slopes'

"Gotta love a company ski outing!" Johnny Flavor said to me getting out of the boss's conversion van, plush with carpet on all parts of the interior, Loverboy's 'Get Lucky' cassette playing in the console.

The iconic music pumped through he Pioneer TS-6906 speakers creating a kick drums pulse to 'Working for the Weekend' that vibrated through my breasts bundled inside my new multi-colored down jacket. Johnny was an annoying tech lead announced leaving the van, "Hell of a bonus they gave us, I hope I don't spend it all tonight."

"Only Johnny Flavor could spend $2500 on a holiday Saturday afternoon," I responded, knowing him too well having spent a weekend with him in Colorado skiing last year. I had just been promoted and mistakenly saw Johnny as a high roller who then wined, dined and 69ed this naive sales manager on the slopes surrounding Breckenridge.

He taught me not to mix pleasure with business.

"Don't YOU know it," Johnny said elbow into my side, his greasy look sending visions of our weekend into my brain, my stomach flopped over to think I let this man enter my body every which way with his less than impressive cock. He smiled then raced off chasing the new Brunette we hired for the South Michigan Region, big breasts and red lips.

I was in a bit of a relationship/sexual drought, it being six months since I broke off my engagement to Chadwick, an executive for the local minor league baseball team. We dated for two years before he proposed and just six month's after getting the ring I surprised him for his Birthday (naked under a long coat) at work.

He surprised me, opening his office door I had a clear view of Chadwick fucking his 18 year-old summer intern across the office desk, her large ass bouncing against his hips.

I'd kept myself busy taking both the North and Central Regions, expanding "MediaCable" our cable TV company, during that time I hadn't been in the mood to meet anyone. I found nights alone with a romance novel that read like Penthouse with my hand buried in my snatch enough.

I had a season pass to the ski resort, having gone several times a year since college and headed to the bar while the rest got their rental skis, mine custom made waiting for me just outside on the rack. I ordered a shot of Dr. RumpleMinze peppermint schnapps, and a beer chaser, downing both quickly, another appearing just as quickly in front of me.

The bartender motioned to a tall man, looked to be early 30s, dark hair, Harrison Ford features and handsomeness, tall, at least 6'3" if not 6'4". He tipped his glass to me then surprisingly turned away to head out the door, my mouth hanging open wanting to scream 'wait'!

"Fuck..." I said instead, did the second shot, both rushing to my head fueled on a lunch Lean Cuisine and a Diet Coke and destroying a few people on the company racquetball courts that morning. The beer chased hard but I chased him harder, getting on my skis, seeing him moving towards the resort's only black diamond run.

"Fool," I said, knowing you don't start on the hardest slope, though his confidence to do so got a warmth going between my legs. I had to find out what this mysteriously handsome man tasted like BUT not at the expense of my own safety, the immediate buzz necessitated I start on one of the slope's four blue diamonds and just count on running into him later.

I enjoyed the pace of the north run in particular, with a finish that let you pick up speed. I tested the slickness and the condition of the manufactured snow on top of the natural snow, a popular place, they had to make more of the powder each night even though we were going on two feet of base powder.

I was happy with the first run and I did a second blue diamond, this one had more slope but was wide and feeling good now, my head on a swivel looking for the mysterious man. Finally after a third run, when getting off the lift, I saw him covered in white base snow, getting ready to go again.

I skied over to him, braking hard, tossing a wall of white powder in his direction striking him in the shin.

"Look's like you missed a spot," I said pointing to his leg, where plum from my skis hit him. "Hi...thanks for the shot...I'm Pattie."

"Donahue...and thanks my wipe out and roll wasn't as complete as I thought," he said, my eyes getting wide his celebrity name, no he was too young. "No, obviously not Phil, Donahue's my first name."

"Right..." my smirk enjoying his delivery of what had to be a usual line distinguishing him away from the controversial afternoon talk show host.

There was an awkward pause, then....

"Race you!" he announced and dashed off for the black diamond, I noticed he had custom skis that were more expensive than mine, snow now shot in my direction him pushing away from me. My parents loved to ski and took us kids to Colorado all the time, I wasn't going to be beat.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, dug my poles in and shot off towards the black diamond, his colorful hat disappearing down the slope out of view for a moment.

I got going fast and quickly saw Donahue a little ways down his skills were very good, his slalom legit and his weight forward propelling him faster pulling away from me, the first 50 yards he kept distancing himself.

In a blink he veered left onto a trail through trees on a narrow path, I was very familiar, a path Julie and I loved chasing each other through. My heart was beating fast, my body racing faster, cutting the corner and immediately gaining on his lumbering ass, the excitement warming my body.

My body flew around the obstacles on the trail, around the twists, the turns, his height and weight slowing him down while I whisked around each one light as a bird. I was nipping at the back of his skis, I crouched down becoming smaller, hitting a banked turn around a pair of rocks that headed towards a basin of moguls and passed him.

"Slow poke," I announced, zipping by on the inside corner, laughing. I did what you never are supposed to do stood up high and looked back, his smile wide for a moment before his eyes got wider.

Things went black.

I awoke in the tree line, Donahue holding me, there was pain emanating from my forehead extending to my temple. I lifted my hand up to rub my eyes, instead finding and feeling the swelling on my head.

"Easy...easy...Pattie, you caught a branch...shhhhh..." Donahue said softly, my confusion steadied by his comforting look, locked with my eyes, I was in a blur of semi-consciousness swirling until I focused in on his features, so alluring my mood went from dazed and scared, to pained and turned on.

This man was HOT! My head throbbed, all fear getting overridden by the smell of his musk cologne, seeing his full lips, a tuft of hair sticking out of his stocking cap, strong hands on my body holding me firm.

"Are you okay," he said sensing I was coming out of the haze.

I smiled, then looked seriously at him, like prey I needed for my nourishment. I slipped my hands around his neck without hesitation pulling him towards me pressing my lips onto his, opening my mouth and pushing my tongue inside.

"Ohhhh...." Donahue breathed into my mouth, pulling me up onto his lap where he sat on a fallen tree, a good ten feet inside the tree line.

We were essentially alone.

The sun was warm on my face, looking into his eyes, and I wasn't surprised he was in jeans not snow pants, my body curled into his, my hip sliding between his legs, I felt a presence there, growing fueled by the passion of our kiss, I continued to lead, my body swallowed up in the arms of this large, strong man, our faces joined.

"Ohhhh, Donahue," I sighed, our eyes opening and lips pulling back for just a moment my eyes darting taking in his beauty. He picked me up and we were now standing, we threw our gloves off, my hands slid into his hair pushing his cap off kissing him deeply again.

He tasted amazing, clean, masculine, his hands moved under the layers covering my body, my jacket was barely zippered, he found a way to my skin avoiding the sweater, and a shirt. He pealed the coat away, the coolness of his hand was on my stomach, still covered by the two layers, moved me to my tiptoes. My fingers found the waistline of his jeans, traced under till I untucked the front of his shirt.

"Pattie.....oh...." he moaned, I stared up at him while my hand pushed under the waist of his jeans, under the tight bikini briefs and over his swollen cock. "Ohhhh....mmmmmmm."

My eyes were wide with delight realizing his length was substantial, reaching to his balls, the meat pressed against my forearm almost to my elbow. My intention simple - taste him. I slid my arm out, dropped to my knees and before he could protest or counter my actions, I had him unbuttoned, pants and briefs down, his cock exposed to the elements for a moment. "Holy Shit...Ohhhhhh"

Cupping my hands around the shaft, guessing it was eight or nine inches long, I blew on it, spit on it, rubbing the liquid fast, spitting again and then I quickly put his meat in my mouth and pushed it deep to the back of my throat and further, my hands pulling on his ass, getting every amazing inch to the point my lips were on his balls.

"OHHH GOD! PATTIEEEE!!!" he exclaimed, I pulled back to the tip, slammed forward again, pulled back and forward again, and again, holding it there, my eyes up on his face, contorted with the surprise aggression of my desire.

The passion and the excitement of the moment, me on my knees, the extreme method of my swallowing such a monster cock, trigger his release and he shot a load deep into my throat, the first outpouring coating it with his cum.

I pulled off, watched another spurt fly over my head, then covered the tip with my lips, taking the rest of his delicious prize spurt by spurt, licking and sucking the flesh getting the white creamy fluid.

I pulled off of him, the prize delicious tasting fresh and new, looking at me on my knees he quickly covered up. I got my things, and stood smiling watching his cock disappear back into his briefs and jeans.

"You're amazing," he said buttoning the top and zipping before leaning forward checking out my head, the swelling had tapered off and even receded. We gathered our things, and slowly made our way down to the bottom, riding the lift up together.

I was done, leaning into his shoulder, our arms wrapped together. We got to the top and I coaxed him back onto the slopes, encouraging him to 'get his money's worth' while I sat in the restaurant waiting for my group.

He would have none of that and we watched a repeat of the "Wild World of Sports" on ABC and had some appetizers. Sharing things about ourselves, he lived North of the city about 20 minutes, while I lived in the city center.

He did have to leave and I followed him out to his car, a year old 1980 Corvette, hot enough to get my thighs quivering, wondering what he did for a living. We kissed against it for several minutes, his hands pressing up to my breasts, I felt his swell. I looked up into his eyes, pulled out a card from my fanny pack and he pulled one from his wallet exchanging numbers.

I kissed him deep, then spent the rest of the day at the bar nursing my injury with a bourbon and water before returning home, dreaming of Donahue's long 'presence'.

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December 1, 1981

"It's okay Julie..." I consoling her, having just announced they were taking her family to Colorado for Christmas to celebrate 10 years of marriage and take their kids skiing on 'real slopes', going to the resorts Mom and Dad used to take us every year. "You can come along..."

It was a half-hearted offer one I quickly refuted.

The magic of Christmas died with my parents, likewise the magic of Colorado wasn't the same without them either. Julie and I tried to recreate Christmas for ourselves and the twins at first. It was okay, but not the same and when the twins (one brother and one sister) got into college and started going to Christmases with their girlfriend and boyfriend that left Julie and I.

In the scaled down version we would get together around 2 p.m. on Christmas Eve and have dinner, since we were relatively close, the drive between Minneapolis and Cedar Rapids wasn't too bad and it was fun to do some of the things with their kids. I was bummed we never told 'stories' huddled around the fireplace and mantle, Mom and Dad insisting we stop our board games to sit with them.

That tradition died with them.

"I don't want you to be alone," Julie said, her empathy real. "What about that guy you've been running into?"

"I've had his number but never the time,"

I told her, referring to Donahue, finding out "Trent" was his last name and that he was investment banker from the card he gave me. He was 34 years old and a widower.

"Most of '81 has passed along those lines

for me or for anyone who has sparked my interest."

I had gone out on a handful of dates, mainly while traveling my region, had a little slap and tickle, suck and suck, but I was resolute the next penis was going to have to earn my vagina. Mainly because my ex-fiancee Chadwick was whoring around picking up where we broke it off and stating to anyone who would listen that I was a "dead lay".

"Don't let your breakup turn you into a nun, sister," Julie laughed saying, the play on words unintentional.

"He was a limp dicked Englishman who wanted me to dress up in lingerie and prance about the place," I told Julie. "I wasn't into that every night, I was tired from work. Some nights I could have used his dick on the spot, not a whole production. I'll get back out there soon enough."

Our family had a traditional toast, I changed the subject from my failed engagement to that, stating abruptly. "We'll have to call you so we can do the usual toast."

It was a cue, we both sang in unison.

"So deck those halls, trim those trees, raise up cups of Christmas cheer. Wine or booze, shot or glass, down a mug of frothy beer," we said loud.

"Mine will finish with 'Down a mug of frothy beer,

maybe I just need to catch my breath, Christmas by myself this year.

'" and we both bust out laughing.

I got off the phone, hanging it back up on the wall.

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December 24th, 1981

I had survived the holiday season unscathed, attending a few Christmas parties, working out a lot to Richard Simmon's 'Dancing to the Oldies,' treating myself to a gift a week for myself. Sister Julie had promised to get me things in Colorado and we'd do a gift exchange on New year's Eve.

I looked at the note by the phone, 'Donahue Trent' 435-325-0094 and sighed.

It was by the calendar picture, frozen landscape that chilled this room for the past twenty-four days.

It was just the beginning,

outside the evergreens, were sparkling snow,

it falling lightly giving them a Christmas coating.

While it was beautiful, I thought to myself

'get this winter over with'

my mind drifting back to

Springtime saw 'Him' again,

(Donahue) leaving the club at closing, with his boys, he hesitated to talk, I left my sister and we met by his car.

I would've been good to go for lunch but couldn't agree when we were both free, we tried, we said we'd keep in touch. Didn't, of course till Summertime, this time it was me, sunburn in the third degree.