I woke up the next morning on Christmas Eve smelling like cream soap and Rick's musk. We spent the evening before in the shower trying to clean various forms of sugar, syrup and other stickiness off each other, but there was no hot water heater big enough in the world that could accommodate the kind of good, clean fun we had gotten ourselves into.
I lay in bed half awake and half dreaming about the way Rick's hands glided all over the contours of my body with his wet, slippery, soapy hands. I thought about way our bodies slid in synch under the spray of water. I got lost in the memory of the way his wanting cock slid inside of me over and over again as he had me pinned against the tile wall and the way the constant stream of my love juices spilled out of me. I wished I could have drifted off to sleep against his moist naked body last night and woken up next to him this morning, but maybe it was best I didn't. I had to get up to clean the mess I'm sure we left in the kitchen and on the patio last night.
It was barely past the butt crack of dawn and Mom was already cleaning up the smears and smudges we left on the cabinets and countertops. She didn't look too pleased. She gave me that look that made me feel like a kid again, and not in the way Rick did.
"Mom, I'm sorry," I said. "We came out here to get a few things, but it was dark, and we didn't want to disturb you. I thought I'd get up early enough to take care of this."
"It's all right," she said in a tone that I knew was far from "all right."
I got out the broom to sweep up what we left on the floor and saw that I was going to have to get out a mop and floor cleaner without arousing any kind of additional suspicion.
"I just want to get this all cleaned and organized before I start on all the cooking that I have to do today," she said. "But just how in the world did you make this kind of mess? It looks like a gang of preschoolers blew through here."
I really wanted to tell her if she could let us have the kind of sex that she and Dad enjoyed that maybe we wouldn't have made such a mess in her kitchen, not that we didn't have fun. Instead, I said, "You know I'm here to help you."
Mom didn't say anything. I could tell she was pissed, and I had a feeling that it may have been more than just about waking up to find a mess in her kitchen. Perhaps she knew that food wasn't the only thing we were eating after lights out the night before. I just prayed I could get out onto the patio and clean up the bigger mess out there without arousing any more ire.
By luck, Rick walked into the kitchen. I gave him a sweet, innocent kiss on the cheek, gave him a bottle of spray cleaner and a roll of paper towel, and said. "Could you do us a favor and give the patio a quick cleanup?"
He gave me a secret smile and said, "Sure. Would love to give you ladies a hand."
I looked at Mom. She managed to give Rick half a smile before I joined him on the patio.
"We're busted, aren't we?" he asked with a playful sneer as soon as we got outside.
I sighed. I was already exacerbated, and I haven't even had my morning coffee yet.
"I don't know what we are, but I'm tired of her being such a control freak," I blurted out while scrubbing the patio table.
He leaned over to me, gave me that Cheshire cat smile, and got right into my face to get eye-to-eye with me to say, "You don't like control freaks? Are you telling me you wouldn't like me to take total control over you? To push you onto that chair, spread your legs, tie them down, and lick that sweet, juicy pussy until you really lose control of yourself?"
He swiftly bent me backward and gave me a deep, long and lush kiss. His tongue flicked at my tongue as if it were my clit. My entire body shivered and shivered some more when he gave me a firm smack on my ass. I almost lost my frame of reference of where I was until he suddenly pulled away. I felt as if I was dropped back into reality like Cinderella's shoe crashing and shattering onto the ground with my cleaning rag in hand with half the patio table still in need of cleaning of sticky smears and smudges.
"No fair!" I screamed at him as quietly as I could.
Rick gave me a wicked grin and went back to the business of scrubbing the chair that was in serious need of cleaning. Heaven forbid someone should sit on a cushion covered in chocolate syrup with their clothes on.
Then he started snickering again, stifling how loud he wanted to be.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
He put a finger to his lips to signal me to "Shh ..." and pointed to the kitchen window. My mom and dad were having an argument disguised as a discussion muffled by the closed window.