A Little Christmas Cheer

"Huh? . . . No, it's great, Kate" I lied. Actually, the dry crap in my mouth that passed for turkey tasted more like Poodle shit that had been dried in the sun for a few days. After weeks of excuses and runarounds, I had finally been roped into going to Jim's house for the obligatory, annual Christmas get-together. Unlike everyone else, I wasn't a permanent employee. I was doing some consulting for the office and consequently spent much time there. I had heard too many horror stories about horribly boring conversations, devil-children, and the infamous 'Shitty' turkey to be looking forward to this gathering, and as expected, I would have had a much better time at home.

After two grueling hours, I had filled up on eggnog and was looking for a way out. Not wanting to be the first to leave, I devised a plan: Leave ten minutes after the second person or group leaves. Sounded good enough. After the meal, I lolled around for a bit, sipping my Nog and feeling quite relaxed. I took pleasure in jumping from one conversational circle to another. I have a special way of bullshitting my way through pseudo-conversations and getting quite a thrill out of making fun of everyone else. That's my specialty.

Creative visualization is also my specialty. For the previous four months, the only pussy I'd gotten was Rosey Palmer and her five sisters, and that was often, very often. Sometimes I'd whack off five times per day just to keep the hard-on down. If I went a few days without snapping my carrots, my pork sword would be in a permanent state of stiffness and my balls would swell to the size of ripe California Plums and hurt like hell. Soon, I became a master at mental masturbation. When I was relaxed enough, I could blow a hefty load without even touching myself! This kept my dick from being raw all of the fucking time and stopped the hair from growing on my palms.

As the eggnog began to affect everyone, the conversation turned from work-blah-blah-blah, to shit that I actually LIKED to talk about: Computers, Music, Travel and other junk. I sat on the sofa and mentally fucked my female co-workers and my male co-workers' wives. I even porked Jim's wife from behind. I sighed heavily as I dreamed of dumping a wad of goo in her 45 year old snatch.

Needless to say, by the time my co-worker Virginia and her dorkmeiser husband left, I was a huge ball of horniness. All of my fantasies had been rudely invaded by reality. Now, all I had to do is wait for the next person to leave and in ten more minutes, I could jump in my car and pull my dork all the way home. ( I was a master at that as well. I can pull it in city traffic, or going Mach 1 on the highway. Sometimes my cum makes the steering wheel kinda slippery, but it's well worth it.)

I watched Virginia walk out the door. Her attributes, or lack of, intrigued me. You see, Virginia is skinny. Very skinny. In fact, sometimes I'd watch her at the office and would compare her to a walking bag of bones. Her breasts were non-existent, and her body was, for lack of a better description, a straight line. No hips, no discernible waistline, and I'm still puzzled by the lack of breasts. When I fantasized about fucking her, I put her knees to her chest and pounded her hard until her back snapped like a twig.

1 Down, 1 Plus 10 minutes to go. I was putting odds on who would leave next. Obviously, it would be Beth. She was hanging all over her 'roommate' Keith. For as long as I could remember, she's been telling everyone that her and Keith share a plutonic relationship and are just friends. I knew she was bullshitting from day one. As far as I know, neither of them have had a date since he moved in, so obviously, he's getting his heat from somewhere. Beth isn't that bad looking. If you looked at her from a distance, you could say that she's beautiful. But once you approach, the lines in her face betray her age, which I guess to be around 35. Still, she has an OK set of hips and handfuls of flesh on her chest that pass as boobs. For some reason, when I thought of fucking her, she was always leaning over, typing something. The squishing sounds of my dong being drowned out by her clanging 90wpm on the computer. Pretty strange, huh?

Gone, I watched her hang on to Keith as they both left. I looked at my watch, rotated the bezel, and waited for the ten minutes to pass.

"What's the matter . . . time to go?" asked Linda. With me mentally fucking every female in sight, I didn't even take notice of her sitting in the chair directly in front of me.

"Yeah" I muttered "if I can only remember how to get out of here". I was expressing a genuine concern. Jim's neighborhood was, of course, a model of modern suburbia: Every house is identical, the streets are all generically named after trees, Maple, Oak, Pine, etc.

"The trick is to remember the Christmas decorations as you come in." she replied. For most of the night, or most of the previous months, I had completely ignored Linda. We were complete opposites and when we conflicted in the office, all hell broke loose. She was my major obstacle when it came to ordering a computer system that I thought the office needed and I resented her for it. It would have been genuinely good for the office and the consulting fees to me would have kept me in pizza and porno videos for a good long time. We were both stubborn and pigheaded, but I was rational when it came to arguments and silent in my revenge, so it always appeared as if she was a raving lunatic. She always hated me for being able to argue without raising my voice or getting hysterical. "I don't know how I'm getting home. I guess I'll walk."

"Walk?" I said, not really knowing where she lived. "It's pretty cold out there. How'd you get here?"

"Beth and Keith, but I guess they wanted to be alone". Jeesh, I was actually beginning to feel sorry for Linda. As she blabbed on about Christmas this or that, I really began to think about it. Of all of the people in the world, she's quite possibly the only one that I genuinely do not like. Don't get me wrong, we'd be civil to each other when necessary, but when we conflicted, run for fucking cover. Which made me wonder why we seemed to be making small talk now. What I said next shocked me:

"Where do you live? I could give you a ride". I wished that I could pull the words back in my gullet but it was too late. The offer was made. Then there was the awkward silence that seemed to last for hours. I stared her right in the eye and didn't show any signs of the absolute horror that I felt. Surely the moment she got in my car we would begin to argue. Why couldn't she call her husband? She WAS married. With three kids in fact. What an asshole I am!

She leaned forward and whispered. "Sure . . . if we can leave right now." I was looking to detect something in her eyes. Maybe an ulterior motive or some kind of revenge plan, but I saw genuine sincerity, so I quickly gulped down the rest of my Nog and stumbled to get off of the sofa. I wasn't drunk, but I was a bit 'affected'. I did my absolute best not to show it. Getting cocked at a client's house is not exactly a good career move.

As we both said our final good-byes, needless to say, people were more than a bit shocked to see us leaving together and acting quite civil towards each other. Jim, couldn't pick up his jaw from the floor. I was feeling more than a bit loose, so I wished Merry Christmas and Joyeaux Noel all around and left with Linda. I was right. It was cold, but at least it wasn't snowing. I love snow to fuck around in, but hate to drive in it. As I fumbled through my pockets for my keys, I looked around and marveled at the Christmas lights and decorations.

"Yeah, they do know how to overdo it, don't they?" Linda said. For a brief moment, I'd forgotten she was there. "Look at this one over here". She walked out ahead of me and was admiring a decoration scene, while I was admiring her. She had on an oversized sweater and a pair of simple black jeans, but incredibly, she didn't have a jacket. She always wore oversized tops. You couldn't really get a good gander at what her boobs were shaped like because she always wore something big and floppy and pulled at it constantly. The jeans, however, were a complete contrast. They hugged her ass like a second skin, an ass that can only be described as bulbous. Linda wasn't fat, but I suppose 3 kids would make even Ms. Olympia a bit on the chunky, Rubenesque side. Her last child was born less than a year before. I couldn't really recall when. I started the consulting job while she was on maternity leave and I guess the process of getting such a big project done with her not there made her a little irritated.

As the Triple X-rated movie reels in my head began to turn, I stopped myself. What was I doing? I hadn't fantasized about Linda since I really got to know what a bitch she is! It's not that she wasn't attractive to me. On the contrary, she had attributes that get my balls churning instantly: She's a true redhead, she's got a set of hips that you can hold on to, and she had just had a child. (Pregnant women and new mothers are very sexy. I secretly wished that I could watch her breast-feed her child).

I stepped up beside her finally finding my keys and looked at the house that she was admiring. It was a gaudy masterpiece mixture of the classic nativity scene and the modern Santa Claus theme. There were thousands of lights on the house itself and lining the driveway and walkways as well.

"A bit overdone for my taste." I said, getting into my car. Being the absolute gentleman that I am, I got in first and cranked it up while she waited. Then I unlocked her door from the inside (What a guy!) "Where to?" I sighed, trying not to sound as lit as I really was.

"The first left then first right will get you onto Pleasant street. I live at 37 Stuart." 'Maybe this wont be so bad' I thought to myself. Stuart is only a few minutes away. Surely we couldn't come to blows in a short few minutes. As I winded my way towards Pleasant, the silence was absolutely deafening. I wanted to say something, or turn on the radio or something, but most of all, I wanted this long, strange trip to end.

Finally, I turned onto Stuart and spied her house. It looked kind of empty, which made me wonder where her husband and kids where. I stopped the car and didn't even bother to take it out of gear, then I waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Silence. She wouldn't say anything, she wouldn't get out, as far as I knew, she was dead because I couldn't hear her breathing. Then I turned to look at her. SHE WAS ASLEEP! She was kind of slumped over, her head against the window, a mass of red hair covering her face. I leaned forward to try to obtain some sort of outline of her breasts, but to no avail. It was too dark, and even if it wasn't, the sweater was too thick and oversized.

I put the Olds in park and shut it off. The sudden engine silence along with the eerie feeling that someone was looking at her woke her from her light slumber. She looked around confused, then opened the door abruptly and got out without saying a word. With that, I started the car, turned on the radio and fished around my glove compartment for some proper tunage. After finding Zeppelin IV and popping it in, I was ready to head out, but Linda wasn't even to her walkway yet, so I decided to be at least halfway decent and wait to see her through her door safely. As she reached her steps, she dropped her purse, giving me a few more fleeting glimpses of her ass and wide hips as she bent to retrieve it. Instead of walking up her steps, she pivoted and turned around, returning towards me. I looked in the passenger seat as if checking to see if she had left something behind. Nothing. She walked right up to the window on my side and leaned over to speak. I slid the window down to that electronic humming sound that I love so much.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?" She asked feebly. 'Oh jeesh, what in the world could have entered her mind from the time she got out of my car to the time she dropped her purse?' I shut the car off in silent reply. I spied the neighborhood and decided that it was safe enough to leave my keys in the ignition and the door unlocked. After all, it was quite dark, quite cold, and quite late. I followed Linda up the walkway wondering if this was a wise decision. We had managed to be civil to each other all night. Why was I pushing my luck? Her house showed no signs of life inside, which surprised me more than a little. The house itself was nothing impressive: Single level, semi-modern petite style. Adequate distance between neighboring dwellings. Good use of landscaping and shrubbery. I calculated it to be worth about $ 90,000 in the current depressed market. As she unlocked her door and went in ahead of me, I tried to recall anything and everything that I'd heard her say, compiling months of conversations, gossip, and innuendo into a nice background file on her: Linda Taylor-31, Husband, Randy-31, Assembly-line worker. Kids - Jessica-10, Jodi-2, and Bobby was less than a year old. Education - Trade school for secretarial skills, no formal post-secondary education. I was prepared for anything she threw at me, or was I?

The house was dark. I was surprised at the pleasant odor emanating from it. For some reason, I assumed that her house smelled like chicken soup or something. She turned on the lights and told me to have a seat. The living room was clean and brightly decorated with bric-a-brac and several figurines here and there. It wasn't overly impressive, but it did add a spice of decorative class. I admired her for that. She was in the kitchen area, which sounded to be a great distance away from the main living room. Within a few minutes, she returned with a platter containing two huge cups of joe, a bowl of sugar and a container full of what I correctly assumed to be cream.

"Thank you." I said, as she handed me my coffee. "Randy? Is he here?" I inquired. "I wouldn't want to wake him up or anything."

"He's at work. He's on the third shift this month." she said matter of factly. I looked around, thinking of where her kids might be, surely she didn't leave them here alone while she was out. "They're at my mothers'" she blurted out, reading my mind. "I didn't know how late I'd be at Jim's so I told them to stay the night. They're OK. She baby-sits them everyday." Well, that solved a great mystery. She seemed comfortable with it, but I needed a little more reassurance. "It's OK, I don't bite" she laughed. "I know we haven't had the best working relationship, but that's because we're both stubborn and we like to get our own way and when that happens, you're going to have conflicts."

She made a great deal of sense and from that moment on, I felt much more comfortable. I even took my jacket off as we made fun of people at the office and gossiped endlessly about this ones sex life and that ones husband. We even found that we shared the same taste in music. She popped in a Pink Floyd CD and we jammed out for a while, sipping our java and chatting like old friends. I wasn't surprised at how close we had gotten on the sofa. We'd inch forward and whisper little gossip tidbits to each other as if others could be listening, until our thighs were rubbing.

*******

The coffee was long gone, and the CD was on its fourth go round, so I decided to head home.

"Can't believe it's so late." I said without looking at my watch. I slid forward on the sofa to maximize the contact between our thighs, hoping to further fuel the fires of my masturbatory fantasies. I placed my hand on the back of the sofa for leverage. Quickly, she placed her hand on my thigh and held it firmly.

"You don't really have to leave now . . . do you? We were just getting to know one another." Wild shit started running through my head. Her touch was burning me. My prick went from flaccid and floppy to purple and promising within the span of 1.5 seconds. In response, I slowly slid my hand from the sofa to her face. I caressed her flesh very gently as we both leaned forward blindly. Our lips found each other, slowly and gently at first, then with a passionate yearning.

Our tongues intertwined in the age-old French dance of foreplay. The heat generated by our bodies was almost overwhelming. I found it difficult to breath, but we remained joined, breaking only to kiss her cheek and nose and neck. Her cream colored neck was flawless and without a single wrinkle. As my nose nuzzled the base of her throat, I detected a hot, musky odor: The smell of lust reeking from her every pore. For the first time, I saw this person with whom I had a working relationship, whom before tonight I didn't like or respect, vulnerable and ready for the pleasures of a deep-plunging cock. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks and almost swooned with the feeling that rode through my entire body.

Wordlessly, I reached out and began to fondle one rounded knee, letting my hand revel in the feel of the tight denim covering the flesh just under the surface. Then I ran my hand up the trembling flesh of her inner thigh, hesitating at the apex of her jeans to diddle my fingers at the crossroads of her seams. Linda shuddered at my touch. She was so soft, so incredibly soft.

We moaned in unison, our tongues vibrating against one another. She offered no resistance as I slid my hand from her crotch slowly up the bulging flesh of her belly and on to her right breast. I waited for an objection, but there was none. 'Surely I latched onto the wrong thing' I immediately thought to myself. The object that I held in my hand could not have possible been Linda's boob. It was huge and jug-like, and very soft to the touch. It was very hard to tell through the thickness of her sweater. Again, she read my mind. She pulled back and we momentarily broke from our embrace. Her face was flushed and the sweat had beaded on her forehead as I'm sure it had done on mine. Without saying a word she pulled the sweater over her head. I had my first view of her bra and tits. The bra was pale blue and silky in texture. It barely held the twin masses of white flesh that sprung from her chest. Her belly was a joyous collection of fleshy rolls that longed to be tongued. It was so smooth, so white, so silky that it was almost unbelievable.

I reached out to embrace her, reached upward, behind her back, and undid the catch of her brassiere and pulled it away, passing the loops along her arms and out over her hands. Her tits were incredible. As she wavered on the sofa, it seemed that they had lives of their own and did not belong to the rest of her body. Widely separated, they hung from her chest in sloping, curving flesh that reached a crescendo in two huge reddish nipples, each surrounded by big pink coronas. They were perfectly formed bitch udders, made for seeing, handling, and sucking. My mouth watered just from looking at them.

She reached forward and pulled my shirt and T-shirt over my head, her fingers lingering on my hairless chest, tentatively at first, then more boldly. Her fingers caressing my shoulders, then my nipples. Her touch was electrifying. I grabbed her gently by the arm and leaned back, pulling her towards me, on top of me. I hugged her tightly, seeking her lips with my own. Her body was completely on top of mine. Her chest pressed into me, the moistness forming between us. She silently slid her hand between us and cupped my cock and balls through my slacks. I whimpered slightly at her touch, her hand outlining my dong, squeezing it, measuring it. I felt the puddles of sweat that had quickly formed between us. I reached to fondle her breast and was more surprised at the amount of sweat that she had on her. I broke our embrace to look down between us. What the?!?!? It wasn't sweat at all: It was MILK, BREAST MILK!

"I'm so sorry . . . " Linda said apologetically. "I breast-feed Bobby pretty regularly." My cock nearly exploded with the revelation. I couldn't believe it. I squeezed her boob and watched in awe as the pearly white substance squirted from around her nipple and splashed upon my chest. One of my lifelong fantasies was about to come true. I grabbed her by her wide hips and slid her upwards so that her breasts were directly above my face. I slid one hot nipple into my mouth and then the other, alternating breasts. My dick strained unbelievably against my trousers, but he would definitely have to wait. I wrapped both hands around her right boob and opened my mouth to await the fountains of mother's milk that were sure to come. I squeezed, gently at first, then harder and more forcefully. The milk squirted into my mouth and slid down my throat in an ecstasy of sweet tasting nectar that was absolutely indescribable. I sucked and suckled like a little baby, taking my time to enjoy the sweetness. I was so wrapped up in my own milky desires, that I was completely unaware that Linda was quaking and shuddering her way through her first orgasm. She let out a small shriek and collapsed on top of me, my mouth maintaining its' gentle suction.