My Holly Jolly Christmas

"Where's mom?" my youngest son Joey is hollering as he hits my leg repeatedly with some kind of toy. Just how I wanted to wake up today. But with three boys it's a miracle I get any fucking sleep.

"She's out shopping with your aunts," I manage to mumble as I roll out of bed. A quick look at the clock reveals it is half past seven. Too early for this crap. I head to the bathroom; morning business and all.

"But I want mom here," he whines while stomping his feet. Cause that's certain to make her appear. Or so goes your logic when you're six.

Jason bursts into the bathroom the moment I sit. "I want eggs for breakfast. James is going to make them since mom left us," he declares. This one is eight. Not really much smarter than the six-year-old to be honest.

"James is not making breakfast unless you're all eating cereal." Shit, even then the kid would manage to destroy the house with nothing but milk.

Jason puts his hands on his hips defiantly, "He says he's the cook now since mom left and your food sucks." He knows he's pushing it, so he runs out. Maybe he is smarter than I give him credit for.

I head downstairs to make sure the ten year old isn't burning the house down. Before I reach the kitchen the smoke alarm starts blaring. Joey runs past me, naked, hollering "FIRE! FIRE!". He was dressed minutes ago, where the hell did his clothes go?

"Damn James!" Smoke is billowing out the kitchen window as I round the corner. The smell of burnt eggs lingers heavily in my nose. I turn off the stove and almost admire the near black color of what once may have been eggs.

"I'm old enough to cook," he huffs and storms out. Sure I'll clean this up, then I'll make some damned eggs if there is any left that is.

Jason comes in, sticking up for his brother, "Mom left us and someone has to feed us. At least James tried cause you were sleeping."

I yell for James to get back in here with Jason. "Jesus Christ guys. Your mom went shopping - she's entitled to do that on occasion. She didn't leave us," I rant, "And it's not even eight in the morning yet. I haven't had my coffee, I barely stopped the house from going up in flames, and your little brother is running around without clothes. You boys are making me wish I was the one out shopping on Black Friday!"

I start the coffee; I'm gonna need a lot of it today. "Pull it together, find your brother, dress yourselves, and I will feed us," I say, as authoritative as I could muster, sans coffee and all. They run off and I feel good. That'll teach 'em.

It is a short lived feeling though. I get the eggs but the carton is full of shells and runny yolk. I notice the sink completely full of what seems like every utensil we own. There's a mound of jelly on the counter for no discernible reason. Joey runs through, at least with clothes on now, screaming he doesn't want to be an orphan. Fuck my life.

I grab the Fruity Specks, chocolate milk (why is there no white milk?), spoons and bowls, and take them to the table just as the boys arrive. "No talking. Eat up." They look at me weird. "Most important meal of the day, right here." Fuck it, I go to drink my coffee. They'll survive. Maybe.

I clean up the kitchen while drinking a few cups of coffee. I let the boys go down to the basement and play one of my video games after they finish eating. The kind of game Sarah says is too gory and too violent for them. I grab the Bran Oats for my own bowl of cereal so we don't break all the rules. "You need the extra fiber," she has told me more than once, usually while staring me down with her dark eyes. I just wont tell her it was with chocolate milk.

Halfway through my cereal I get a text from her. "How's it going babe?"

"Great!" I send back. "Miss you!" I throw in a kissy face. "How's it going out there?"

"Snagging lots of deals. Miss you 2. Be back later." She didn't return my kissy face. Teenagers break up over that sort of thing nowadays. I think. Oh hell, I eat Bran Oats because "Extra Fiber for Over Forties!" Who am I kidding, I know nothing about teenagers.

I wash the breakfast dishes, go upstairs to make the bed and get dressed. Then back downstairs I grab my phone and see Sarah sent another text. "Maybe it's a kissy face," I hope as I open it. But it is so much better. Her tits packed nice and tight inside a lacy red bra. Might be a new bra, I don't immediately recognize it, but it's hard to look away from that nice cleavage long enough to care. I feel my dick bulging against my jeans, pissed that I just changed out of my sweat pants.

"Damn!" I text back. I consider sending a dick pic back. But she is with my two sisters and my brother's wife. Makes it kind of weird but I really want an excuse to pull it out. I go upstairs to think.

"You like it?" She asks. "Or this one better?" Another pic comes through, this time she's in a purple bra. Thicker than the red one but more of her breasts are showing. Maybe some sort of push-up one?

In the bedroom, I sit in the oversize reading chair next to our bed. No choice now, I have to unbutton my jeans and pull my it out just to be able to sit right. "Love them both," I type.

"Found a third!" the text reads above another picture. A sheer black bra barely covers half her breasts. This one was taken from another angle, more of a side view, which clearly shows her hard nipples through the thin fabric.

Now I know she's asking for it. I stroke myself a few times to get a nice glistening of precum on the head. I snap a photo with my right hand, gripping my shaft with the other. I caption it "He approves of them all". I keep stroking after I send it, scrolling through the pictures, unable to decide on a favorite.

"Put it back in your pants Gabe!" She replies. I send back a sad face. "I got plans for him tonight." Now I send a happy face. Thanks goodness for emojis. It's difficult to text with one hand.

"Leaving dressing room, no more." She says with a kissy face. I love this woman. Would have loved a no bra pic too, but I certainly wouldn't have put my dick back in my pants then.

Not to imply he's put up now, I'm still stroking it, thinking about how great our sex life has been the last few months. We were in a big lull for years, with three young boys and all. But Sarah went back to work after Joey started school this year and she's seemed much happier since.

Back in September, she took the boys to their grandparents and booked a hotel room for my birthday. She knew I wasn't too thrilled about turning the big 4-0. So she bought lingerie for the first time in years. We stopped in the sex shop downtown on the way there and picked out a few things. She dubbed it our "Fuck 40 Night".

It was what I needed; what we both needed really. She still has a few months until forty, but she's feeling it all the same. The last ten years are a blur of raising children. The sleepless nights, kids in our bed when they are sick, kids in our bed when they're not sick, daily to do lists that never end. We somehow forgot to add time for ourselves in there.

At the hotel we fucked like crazy the first couple of hours. Positions we haven't attempted since our twenties, toys we couldn't remember the names of, exploring each others bodies. And teasing. Lots of teasing. Gotta make it last somehow!

At some point we must have gotten loud. There was a knock on the door, so WIFE had thrown on the courtesy robe and went to check it out. I couldn't see the door from the bed but I heard her apologize.

She came back to the bed, laughing hysterically. "The desk clerk said someone has complained about our noises," she said. "The poor girl looked so awkward telling me, she surely knows what 'noises' we are making," she chuckled.

"Glad I didn't answer it," I had said, watching my wife drop her robe. She climbed back on top of me.

"Me too! She was cute. You'd likely have invited her in," Sarah stated rather factually as she rocked her hips against me.

There didn't seem a good answer to that, so I kept quiet, watching her tits bounce as she kept grinding my cock. "Heck, I almost did," she said just before dismounting me. She tuned and positioned herself on her hand and knees, her preferred position for getting off.

But I was so shocked at what she said it took me a minute to even move. Finally I shook the comment off, came up behind her and entered her from behind.

She was thrusting herself back on me with such speed, I let her have the control. I had reached my hands around and toyed with her nipples, listening to her soft moans. Her pussy was so wet.

Was she turned on by being heard? By the hotel clerk? I thought we would have had to build back up after the interruption but Sarah had seemed rearing to go after returning to the bed.

I didn't know what had turned her on so much but I was going to enjoy it nonetheless. I knew she was getting close as I felt her start to tighten around me. I gave her nipples a final good squeeze, ran my hands up to her shoulders, and held her in place. I pushed myself as deep into her as I could and began kissing her gently on the back of her neck. I continued pushing deeper in, ran my tongue from the nape of her neck to a sweet spot I knew on her shoulder and ever so lightly bit down with my teeth.

She started pulsating, trying to keep her moans quiet as to not disturb whatever neighbor of ours that complained. At that moment, her comment about the hotel clerk came rushing back to me, sending a charge through my body and out my throbbing cock. I kept hold of my wife, gently sucking the spot on her shoulder, as we sat, radiating from our climax.

Shortly after we showered and dressed we went to a little place near the hotel. We had a few drinks, talking and laughing over dinner. She confided that after having the boys she really disliked her body; hadn't felt sexy in a long time. She thought I wasn't attracted to her any longer. I assured Sarah she still very much had it going on. She's the mother of my children, there is nothing sexier to me than that. And yeah, they're all little shits but I adore those boys. And I adore her.

"My boobs sag," she remarked, holding up a piece of steamed broccoli by the stalk, letting the floret droop. I had taken the broccoli from her hand and fed her a bite before devouring the rest myself. "No where close to a real resemblance, but I'll munch that broccoli any day." She giggled like a schoolgirl. "And don't even think about finding a vegetable that resembles my current anatomy," I had said, really hoping she didn't.

When we had returned to the hotel, Sarah pointed out the desk clerk as we walked through the lobby. "That's her," she whispered.

I looked to the front desk but she nudged me and nodded toward the large seating area across from the desk. The clerk was bent over a coffee table, arranging the magazines and travel literature nicely after wiping it down. All I could see was her sexy, round ass, accentuated by a pair of tight fitting khaki jeans, swaying slightly as she moved her cloth along the table.

We kept walking toward the elevator bank toward the back of the lobby. I pushed the button to go up and tried to get another look at the desk clerk while we waited. She stood up and turned toward me, as if she knew. Her blonde hair was tied in a high, tight bun with a few loose strands against her face. Dark eyebrows contrasted against her rather pale skin. Twenty, perhaps, give or take. Sarah was right, very cute indeed.

The elevator had arrived with a small ting. As I turned back toward it, I could have sworn the desk clerk winked. We got on the elevator, Sarah laughed and said, "Yep, so glad I was the one to answer the door." So she caught my looking. But she didn't seem to mind, as she had taken my hand in hers off the elevator, leading me back to our room for Part Two of our "Fuck 40 Night".

And our sex life since that night has been incredible. We have reconnected in amazing ways, both in the bedroom and out of it. These texts she just sent me, she never would have done that before. We both seem to have higher libidos now than we did in our twenties when we met. I keep rubbing myself, knowing I need to stop soon but enjoying it too much.

I decide I like the red bra the best, so I look at my wife in it some more; her soft, succulent breasts that I'd love to be touching right now. Thinking about that night in the hotel room has left me rock hard. My wife is going to be several hours before returning home. Somehow I'm going to make it until then. Maybe.

My eyes close. I picture the red bra, the cleavage it shows. I can feel the fire building; causing me to grip harder as I stroke. I see the hotel desk clerk's ass. My heart is racing. I move my hand faster to match. Up and down; so quickly now.

Mm, that sheer bra showing Sarah's nipples. Those tight pants on the clerk.

My mind is wandering on its own. Did she really wink? Did my wife really joke about inviting her in? Sarah's tits, the hotel girl's bottom. Sarah inviting her in.

Well that thought was too much. I grab a tissue from the nightstand, flashes running through my head. I keep a hard grip on my dick but slow the speed. Slow and tight, just like that. As I start to cum, I hear someone running up the stairs. "DADDDDDDDY," Joey screams. Fuck my life.

**

"Those bags need to go out to the car," Sarah says as she whisks past me, carrying some sort of casserole dish. I gather them up and follow her.

"How many nights are they staying?" I ask, loading five various sized bags into the trunk.

"Just one," she responds, "They wanted to bring all their new Christmas stuff." She pecked me on the cheek and went back inside.

I finish getting the bags in, shut the trunk, and Jason tossed two more bags out the door. "These too Dad," he yells before retreating back inside. One night at my parents for three boys and we have seven bags? What's wrong with these kids?

Sarah brings another dish out, handing it to me, "Apple pie, pack it carefully." She walks away, I start to open it. "It's not baked yet!" She calls without looking back. She knows me well. I do love her apple pie.

With three more containers of food, one more bag, and the car warmed we finally leave. "How much longer?" James asks.

"Fifty minutes. Next one who asks will be helping with the after dinner dishes," my wife quips. She has mastered the art of shutting them up, they all delve into whatever devices they have and keep quiet.

I'd make the drive in silence, it was still early, but Sarah spends most of it filling me in on the current gossip of my family, making sure I know what not to talk about with whom. Too bad she didn't just give me a cheat sheet. I won't remember.

Truthfully I don't even know how she has the energy to carry on, we didn't get more than five hours of sleep last night. She made a big meal and the kids opened gifts afterwards. Then hours of putting stuff together, inserting batteries, downloading updates for games (what happened to put it in and play?), and cleaning up. And I thought she was giving me the "big finale" to my Christmas present after the boys went to bed, but then she told me that was still to come.

She started hinting at this present ever since returning from her Black Friday shopping. That's also the night she started edging me. Something I had never even heard of it.

"It's getting close to ejaculating and then stopping," she explained, "it'll be good for your Christmas present."

"So like teasing?" I felt old, not knowing terms these days.

She sighed. "Not exactly. I don't know how to explain it, I guess. It's getting close, stopping just long enough to prevent the full orgasm, and starting again. It's supposed to intensify it for you, make it last longer. Almost like multiple orgasms or something" she described, almost blushing. It was cute.

"Look it up online," she added as she raised her top over her head, revealing that red lacy bra from the first pic she had sent. Then she gave me a blow job; or was it a series of blow jobs? An edging blow job? Hell, call it what you will but I lasted almost an hour. And it was a damn nice hour.

She did it several more times after that, through sex or oral or both, trying to get me to last longer each time. Then, five nights ago, she wouldn't let me finish at all. Or since then. And every night she has brought me close several times. Or would you say edged me several times? I looked it up but I still don't get it.

So last night I thought she would let me. Thought the special present was going to be jizzing after several nights of being teased, or edged, or whatever. But then she told me I had to wait another night. That the boys were staying over at my parents after Christmas dinner and then I'd get my present. So now I get to go spend Christmas with my family, trying to hide my massive hard on that wont go away, seconds away from explosion at any time. Joy.

And I don't have the faintest idea what she has in store for tonight. I'm rather glad about it too. Not sure how much more I can take, really. She's having so much fun with this, she wouldn't even let me use her new vibrator on her. That was my gift to her. They told me at the store it was the best money could buy. Certainly hope so given the price tag. But it does look nice and has interchangeable parts. Fancy shit, technology these days.

We finally make it to my parents, the kids leaving me to lug in all their crap, of course. I don't mind too much, it gives me a good reason to delay going in. I love my wife and have enjoyed immensely what she's been doing. But right now, in this moment, I hate it. I can ramble off a million things I would rather be doing, but I won't as most of them would make me nut in my pants right now. Bah Humbug.

Somehow I manage to make it through six hours of my crazy family, holiday music, and over spiked eggnog. And good food, there was definitely good food. I tried to avoid conversation as much as I could but with two sisters, a brother, their three spouses, my parents, Sarah, and fifteen or so kids between us (has anyone ever counted how many?) it only worked so well. Most of it was a blur though, so whatever stupid things I said to the wrong people won't bother me as I can't remember them anyway.

We say our goodbyes. Sarah takes my keys and begins driving us somewhere. I start to ask where but she pops in a CD, and turns the volume up. "No questions Mister," she orders. The music starts. Of course it's more Christmas songs.

We drive for a while. At some point I realize we are heading in the direction of the hotel we stayed at back on my birthday. I figured we'd go back to the house, with the kids gone and all, but maybe she did really enjoy others hearing us. She makes a familiar turn, certain to be the hotel now.

As we park she changes the CD to the very last tune. It seems deliberate so I wait and listen. The music doesn't start right away though and when it does the audio seems off. There are some clicks and my wife's voice humming, then signing a line. "Deck his balls with a girl named Holly." She started fa-la-la-ing then burst into laughter with an "I love you Gabe, Merry Christmas" and it went quiet.

I look over and Sarah just smiles, says "Let's go," and continues the humming. I don't know what to think, so I just sit until she opens my door. I'm half convinced I am dreaming. "C'mon," she says, grabbing my arm, going right back to her humming. Who is Holly? She grabs a bag from the trunk. One that I packed and brought into my parents. "I brought it back out," she remarks, clearly seeing my confusion at it.

Inside she checks in at the desk. Luckily it's an older man working and not the girl from last time. That'd be too much right now. He gives us a couple of room keys and points us in the direction of our room, "First floor, make a left from the lobby, end of the hall on the right. Oh, and Merry Christmas."