Discoveries

I know, but what does one do, our Christmas is in summer which is in December.... I'd never be able to submit a Santa story in this competition if I don't now.

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Fancy dress isn't my thing. Ever since Christmas, a few years ago, I've avoided it but Jen insisted. When I chose to go as Superman, she balled a dish cloth in her hand and pointed it at me.

"Kryptonite," she said. "Zzzzzt! Gone," and she threw it to land with a splash on my chest. My shirt was saturated. I knew she hated the idea. I always went as Superman and was going to tell her it was Superman or nothing.

I certainly wasn't going as Santa again. I nearly died twice the one time I did. It was forty two degrees centigrade when I pulled the red suit with all its padding on. The white beard was lank and wet with my sweat as it hung from the elastic supported by my ears. I had to walk more than a kilometre and when there sat in the full sun as kids sat on my knee between "Yo ho ho's"

It was darling Russell who provided the first threat to my life. He wanted a horse. No ordinary horse, his had to win the Melbourne Cup and the next year the Cox Plate, before taking out the equestrian event at the Olympics. As Santa does, I laughed.

"Yo ho ho."

My laughing stopped abruptly when I felt some thing sharp against my ribs and the last I remembered was him whispering in my ear that he'd push the fucking knife deeper next time if the horse he got was a dud.

I woke some time later. I was being pushed into an ambulance on a barouche with i.v. fluids being pumped into my arm and so many people hovering around me. Later, I was told little Russell had been especially tearful after he fell to the ground and he'd eventually confessed, much to the shock of his parents who wondered where he got such language from. When I fell, I hit my head on the ground. I never did find out whether I'd been knocked unconscious by the fall or whether I was already unconscious due to dehydration.

I was shocked too when I came to my senses. As I recovered from the headache and confusion, I realised I'd been stripped of every item of clothing in their efforts to cool me down and rehydrate me.

Most children have the impression of Santa being of ubiquitous masculinity. The children there that day witnessed their Santa's masculinity. It probably saved my life and I often wonder if my being undressed did them any harm. Certainly, they would have discovered that though their Santa spent Christmas Day in hospital they still got most of their presents. I had to pay the rental company for the suit that had been cut from me.

Little Russell's parents objected to hearing about his usefulness with a knife. Their offense was such that they no longer joined our Christmas parties. The other parents were also concerned and also withdrew. It was only those of us who had no children who continued to attend. It didn't feel like Christmas any more. Children make Christmas interesting. In our experience fancy dress wasn't an adequate substitute.

"I'm sick of Superman. I'm going to find something else." Jen interrupted my little reverie. Then she walked out of the kitchen and left me to wonder what was happening.

Next day, we went shopping and she bought a diaphanous fabric that was seven metres long. She also bought a heavy fawn, cotton canvas that looked so ugly I wondered what use it could have. The next few days she was busy sewing. She didn't say a word about what she was making.

I began to worry about what I'd be at the fancy dress Christmas party. At least Superman is topical, a small boy rescued from a collapsing planet. There was nothing wrong with Superman. It sure beat dressing as Santa. I felt safe as Superman.

"Don't worry," she kept saying. The day arrived and I still had no idea. It was mid afternoon when she suggested we start to get ready. While she showered I checked the bed. There was still nothing on it to wear.

She came from the bathroom with a towel around her, reached for the hair drier and let the towel drop. She'd cleaned up her pussy with a razor and left a neatly trimmed heart. I reached to her, but she slapped my hands away and insisted I have my shower.

"Can you shave your balls while you're there, Love," It was a statement more than a question. I wondered why but did it any way. I imagined Ken and Mike discussing deforestation and indulged in a smile.

When I returned she was struggling with the diaphanous fabric I'd seen her buy. On the bed was the fawn canvas I thought was so ugly.

"Put them on," she said and appraised my shave with her fingers. I picked them up- a fawn shirt with epaulettes and the biggest pair of shorts I'd ever seen. They must have been starched because they were very stiff. I pulled them on and was about to show her how inappropriately huge they were.

"I'm sick of going as Lois," she told me. "I'm tired of picking you off floors because of some invisible kryptonite. I've had enough of being safe all the time. I want to be adventurous. I want people to see I have a cleavage, I have tits. I need to feel desirable, to know that people want to shove their hands down my cleavage and feel my tits. I want people to know I have a cunt and it's as good as any. I'm a woman and I want people to know it. I'm not going as Lois." I was trying to think of some thing to say.

"I want people to know you have balls too. You're not a plastic hero, you're a man with a big dick and balls. After the party I plan to blow you." She was angry. I stood, ridiculous in front of her and said nothing.

"You'll like your Bombay Bloomers" she said, her tone was more conciliatory. I thought they were the most hideous things but knew not to complain. "We're going as "The Raj". You're the administrative officer and I'm your Indian girl in a sari." She struggled with the sari. Every time she leaned forward the weight of her breasts caused the sari to fall. I suggested we pin it but she was determined to get it right. After a while she had every thing in place and we were ready to go.

I took another appraising look at myself and saw how the shorts were so huge. I looked at her in the diaphanous sari and could see her nipples. She was so pleased with her self. On our way out of the house she handed me my swagger stick.

It wasn't far to Mike and Wendy's but as we got out of the car the sari collapsed and fell round Jen's feet. She laughed as she stood naked on the street. It was then I realized she didn't have any underwear on. I suggested we go home and find some panties.

"It's ok," she said, "so long as we're the same." She reached into my Bombay Bloomers with a pair of scissors from the dash and cut my jocks off. I couldn't help but laugh. When we finally had Jen's sari on we knocked on the door.

I wasn't sure what to expect, but Wendy opened and she was dressed normally. A big cleavage, a little bit of make up and her normal clothes. I was disappointed. Jen didn't seem to notice though.

When Mike appeared there was nothing remarkable about how he was dressed either. I was beginning to feel a little out of place. They invited us to sit and we sat beside each other on the couch, opposite them.

While we waited for Barb and Ken to arrive, Mike took the opportunity to tell us how he had mulched his garden with pea straw, as he did every November before Christmas. It helped to conserve water in the summer. Wendy told us about a new line of clothes they'd discovered made of bamboo fibre. Together, they said the world is becoming a very unpleasant place with all the hurricanes, floods and fires, it was very important that every one do their bit.

I was very self conscious about my bloomers. The legs were so stiff with starch they were like barrels. I hoped it was so dark inside them no one could see anything, but knew everything was well displayed. With my balls shaved they would stand out like baubles on a Christmas tree. I couldn't cross my legs and the crutch of the bloomers was so narrow there was no where for my wedding tackle to hide. When I tried to crunch the bloomers down Jen reached for my hand and held it. I wanted my swagger stick. I'd left it in the car.

Eventually the Watsons arrived. Neither were in fancy dress and I was further embarrassed. After the kisses all round we sat and I was acutely aware of the eyes on us, too polite to ask but some how seeking an explanation. Jen sat and grinned back as she adjusted her sari. It seemed the seven metres of fabric wasn't wide enough. I thought it was lucky the day was so hot. She pulled at the fabric and almost exposed one breast as she tried to cover the other. We all watched with fascination as she fought for control.

Wendy handed round a dip. I had a thought her breasts were being offered too as they were almost on the plate. I wondered what she'd do if I reached that little further and selected a breast. Jen balanced her sari as she scooped some up on her biscuit and ate.

Mike had a tray of drinks, organic wine we were told, and we all took a glass of red. When not proffering food or drinks they were on the edges of their seats watching. Jen finally had control of her sari and all eyes seemed to be on me. I guess they were trying to be demure, not looking at my face but some what lower. Since everyone had seen my baubles some Christmases ago my privacy no longer seemed so important.

To divert their attention from my wedding tackle I asked if any one knew the cricket scores. Ken volunteered the Redbacks had lost. Barb dropped her purse and as she picked it up she seemed to look up the leg of my bloomers. Jen held my hand and gave it a few pats to settle me.

"How's the gardening?" she asked Mike. He went on about his pansies and how with cow manure they were much better. Manure promotes an active soil, full of life, with plenty of organic matter that retains water. With climate change we seem to be getting less rain and it's hotter, he said.

"We're thinking of putting in mulberries," she said expansively, with a swing of her arm. Her sari seemed to lose it's grip and started to fall. She rescued it just in time. It was the first I'd heard of mulberries and I wondered whether she meant strawberries. "This is silk. We should all be growing mulberries and using the silk to dress ourselves. It's time we were much kinder to the earth." They all murmured their appreciation of what Jen said and concentrated further when she spread her legs a moment and closed them again.

Mike got up and started to hand around little biscuits topped with cheese and some muck I didn't recognize. He lingered when he held it out for Jen. With one hand she anchored the sari in place, spread her legs for balance and selected her little bite. I knew he was looking at her pussy as he encouraged her with her selection.

Ken interrupted with the information that mulberries are related to figs and figs can make a mess of your foundations. Jen handled it well when she said Uncle Barry does that too with his slobbery kisses. Ken obviously didn't understand and Jen explained that after Uncle Barry's kisses she always had to repair her makeup.

Conversation was difficult. Eventually it went to what every one had organized for Christmas. Barb and Ken were going to the beach to surf and eat a cold collation for lunch. Wendy and Mike were going to their parents and as usual would be having a hit of tennis. Jen and I would be at the soup kitchen helping those less fortunate get a feed. It had been a long time since soup had been served, we had the same meal everyone else had and regarded it as our privilege to pay for it.

Eyes darted every where. I wished I had my ordinary clothes on. Wendy and Barb kept looking at Mike and Ken, and didn't seem happy that the men were looking at Jen and me. Wendy left and brought back another plate of little things. Bite size I guess. She handed them around and as she offered them to me I was sure she was looking into the leg of my bloomers. My dick wasn't behaving. It had long ago pumped up and stretched its self out like it was preparing for crucifixion.

Perhaps Wendy was determined I wouldn't get my hands on her breasts. It would have been easy to flip them out of her shirt. I wondered what her nipples were like. I had to stop thinking about it. The only way I could cope was to pretend nothing was happening and try not to look at her cleavage.

It was Christmas though. The customary, artificial tree, festooned with shiny baubles, tinsel and soap snow stood guard over the few gifts under it. The fairy lights twinkled as though each held a secret.

Mike followed with the wine to top up our glasses. As he refilled my glass he spilled some on my bloomers. I didn't think it mattered but Jen called for a cloth and a bowl of water. She mentioned some thing about how red wine stains and tried to wipe it up.

The wine spread more as she put the cloth in the bowl and sloshed the water onto the bloomers. She put her hand inside to support them and help scrub the stain. Wendy kept apologizing and with Barb knelt to help. I'm sure they wouldn't have missed seeing Jen stroke my dick as she told them how expensive the fabric for the bloomers had been.

My dick thumped with its appreciation of all the attention. Wendy and Barb didn't miss a beat.

Mike and Ken were discrete as they watched in the back ground. They mumbled things about chemical fertilizers being impersonal while the natural fertilizers are a greater pleasure to use and are the best. They liked the liquid form, just a few squirts and it replenishes its self.

Jen's sari kept slipping as she scrubbed, her breasts were exposed and with all the scrubbing they swung and rippled. She was so engrossed she didn't seem to notice but I did and I'm sure the others did too. The other end of the sari began to unravel. When she spread her legs to trap the sari in situ it fell and coiled like a cobra on the floor.

Her pink pussy smiled fulsomely, its lips wet, soft, open and swollen. She took a while to react, then pulled the sari around her, after everyone had seen her folds and been able to admire her shaving skills.

With her effort the wet area grew to be extensive and the fabric of my bloomers softened. I'm sure I could have done the job better and wondered why Jen wouldn't let me. Barb helped with pulling the fabric taut and the back of her hand rested on my dick. Mike and Ken quietly muttered things about worms and what a joy fat ones are in the garden.

When Mike said he wanted to show Ken his dibbler and conduct the ritual garden inspection, we knew they'd be in the garden for at least an hour and more likely two. They quickly excused them selves.

I went with them once, a long time ago, but on the grounds of extreme disinterest I learned it was acceptable to excuse my self to a sunroom and read while the women exchanged recipes. Wendy ran and returned with a dry cloth. She gave it to Barb, took Jen by the hand and led her to the bedroom. I watched as the sari fell to create a path and the door closed behind her bare ass as she exited the lounge room.

Barb started mopping up the water. She patted the bloomers and pushed my hands away as I tried to take over. There was water over my legs and between them, I was so wet.

After a look around the room, she started to mop the water off my legs with her hand inside the bloomers. Her touch was gentle as she wiped my dick dry, gave it a few strokes and pulled it out to inspect. It pulsed in her hands and she moaned. She looked around, looked at me and gave it a few more strokes. I saw a naughty little smile.

She looked around again, made herself more comfortable and I felt her fingers pull my balls out. She fondled them with one hand as she stroked me with the other. She closed her mouth over my dick and sucked as her hands continued. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she watched me and listened.

I had no idea what Jen would think if she caught us. I wondered what would happen if Ken discovered us. I imagined he'd create an artificial disaster and not be talking about natural disasters. The anxiety was enormous but the thrill was greater. I looked at her cleavage and admired the swelling of her breasts. She was licking up secretions that presaged an explosion, her hands were so busy, I knew I'd orgasm soon. I reached for her breasts.

Suddenly there was a scream. I sat up, and wondered where it had come from. It sounded like Jen. I leapt from the chair and raced to the bedroom along the sari carpet. I opened the door and stood to look with disbelief.

On the bed was my beautiful wife, flat on her back with her bum on a pillow, her knees up and spread. Between Jen's legs was Wendy, her bra was up around her neck and her large breasts hung. I could hear her sucking. I saw Wendy's bum, stripped of underwear, her pussy red and swollen with her pubic hair plastered to it and her thighs wet. Jen writhed, her hands pulled Wendy's face into her and Wendy struggled for breath.

I couldn't leave. I could only stand and watch. Barb was beside me. She too seemed mesmerized but recovered before me. She reached for my dick and pulled me to the bed. My Bombay Bloomers hit the floor as she pushed me onto the bed. My dick throbbed, she pulled off her panties, sat over me and guided my dick inside.

I reached for Jen and held her hand as Barb started to fuck me. It wasn't going to take long. With my remaining hand I ripped off Barb's shirt and bra. Her breasts hung in front of me and bounced as she fucked. I was surprised her nipples were so dark and large.

I dropped Jen's hand and held Barb as I rolled. Our momentum continued but I was doing the fucking. I felt Jen's hand take mine and she kissed it as she and Wendy watched. It didn't take long. Barb screamed as her thighs banged against mine and I grunted as I filled her.

Exhausted, we lay there together on the bed, caught our breaths and listened. I kissed Jen, rolled her over and kissed her sodden pussy.

"I wonder where Mike and Ken are," Barb asked. As one we leapt out of bed and hunted for clothes. I helped Jen to dress in her sari and we returned to the lounge room. We all sat, each with a secret smile, expecting them to return and ask what the noise was. They didn't return. Wendy suggested they were probably solving earth's problems, may be all we need is a dibbler. The lights on the Christmas tree winked their approval of her humor.

We waited- the atmosphere was so thick it was difficult to breathe. I offered to find them. I lead and the others followed. Jen's sari continued to be a problem and Wendy kept throwing it into place. We checked the front yard. Then the back.

"What's a dibbler?" Barb asked. None of us knew. We went to the side of the house. Jen's sari fell off. I kissed her breasts while Barb ran the sari around her.

"How long does it take to show some one your garden?" Wendy wanted to know. I lead them to the garden shed. We opened the door. Ken was seated on the bench. Mike was between his legs. Neither had pants on. Ken's erection was a long way down Mike's throat. Our timing couldn't have been better. Ken moaned and Mike swallowed as, wide eyed, they looked at us.

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It was awkward after we left Mike and Ken. I wondered about the ramifications. Jen and I held hands while we waited. It was important to say good bye and wish our Merry Christmases. I'm sure they were faster than we thought but eventually they were in the lounge room with us. We kissed and shook hands as quickly as politeness would allow. Jen struggled with the sari and on our way to the car she bundled it in her hands and got into the car naked. We saw the others on the verandah wave and we waved back as we pulled out of the drive. We were silent all the way home.