The title of this story does not indicate that it is about a religious Christmas song. Rather the title is merely a double entendre, which will become clear shortly.
You have probably met people like me, Jim Gage, and my friend, Tanya Gage, before. We love to talk. For many people that is a turnoff, but not for Tanya and me. Aside from Tanya's obvious beauty that is one of the things that attracted me to her; namely, she loves to chat. It is fortunate for me but that turns a lot of guys off because otherwise I would not have had a chance with someone as beautiful and sexy as Tanya is.
While I am not chopped liver myself, I think that almost anyone would say that Tanya is better looking than I am; in fact better looking than 99.9% of the female population. What I found out after the fifth date with Tanya is that she is also, in my experience, the best fuck in the world. The very first time she was at least 20% better than anyone else I ever had sex with, and once we got comfortable with each other she was 50% better than anyone else I've ever fucked.
Another thing that made us very compatible was that we both love to talk after sex. I had had sexual partners in the past that would go nuts if I tried to analyze our sexual experience, or started talking about random, or even romantic, things. Many wanted silence. Not Tanya. She loved, and still loves, to chat about how she felt/feels and always inquired/inquires about how I felt/feel too. At least fifteen minutes of happy banter follow each of our sexual experiences.
While I was smitten with Tanya the very first time that I laid eyes on her, I had no intention of getting married. I came from a broken home which probably was one of the reasons that I was sour on both marriage and having kids. After I had dated Tanya about six months she made it clear that if I wanted to be with her it was married, and that we would have kids. While I'm not sure that I "loved" Tanya, whatever that is, I really liked her, she was pleasant to be around (especially when we were chatting up a storm), and I lusted after her something fierce. I could get a hard-on just by thinking about her.
Her "Shit or get off the pot" ultimatum did not go over well with me, however. I told her that that was a deal breaker. She cried when she said "good-bye." I was torn up inside. When I saw her two weeks later with another guy my resolve collapsed. I called her up the next day and asked if I could come to see her.
"If you bring a ring with you, yes – if you don't have one, don't bother," was her pleasant but firm reply.
I bought a ring, showed up at her apartment two days later, and proposed to her. She feigned surprise, but she genuinely appeared happy, and did her best to fuck me senseless that night and the next morning.
There was constant banter during our courtship, and after we got married. It wasn't that she just talked for talking's sake; she actually had a lot to say. She had many opinions on many different subjects, and she was well read. As a matter of fact, she was probably as well read as anyone that I had ever met. I also consider myself an expert on some subjects, and very inquisitive on almost any subject, including sex. Tanya never had any apprehension about talking about anything, including sex.
Our married life got off to a great start. The honeymoon was fabulous, the apartment we rented had a great view, and we had neighbors who were fun and who apparently enjoyed, or at least tolerated, how talkative Tanya and I were. The only bad thing about our apartment complex was that the pool could be seen from almost every apartment, and when Tanya was in a bikini it seemed like every pair of male eyes was either on her, or hiding behind a pair of reflective sunglasses. I'm not really the jealous type, but at the same time I didn't have any other bodies to ogle that were on a par with Tanya's. Even when she got pregnant with our first child, Ben, after we've been married for three years, her body would put to shame almost any other woman's that frequented the pool.
Tanya and I rarely stayed home to watch TV. When we were home we snuggled and – of course – talked. More than half the time we went out somewhere, a play, museum, free concert, whatever, and talked about it almost non-stop until the next event. Of course that wasn't practical once we had kids, but we still got out to cultural events more often than any other couples in our position even after Ben was born.
Sex was always frequent and highly enjoyable. Tanya loved to give and receive oral, could orgasm at least five times a night if I treated her properly, and would let me stick my cock in any orifice that I chose. She liked vaginal sex the best, and so did I, so it was not unusual for us to fuck in one position or another every night of the week, and twice both days on the weekend. That continued from the honeymoon until she was eight months pregnant. The hiatus for pregnancy was short-lived also, only on the order of two and one half months.
Tanya's favorite sex position, and it is probably my second favorite, is what we euphemistically call a "JJ." "JJ" is short for a "Jimmy Jam," whereby while she is in the doggy position I finger her ass hole, lube up a small thin butt plug with a knob on the out-of-body end, slowly insert the butt plug in her ass hole and move it back and forth as she moans. I then stroke my dick over her pussy, and once she is soaking wet bury myself balls deep. I take her through at least one orgasm, and typically two. Normally her second orgasm is triggered by me ejaculating into her, and as I do that I grab the knob of the butt plug and slowly pull it out of her ass.
The JJ never failed to drive her wild, and the first penile sex she demanded once she recovered from her pregnancy was a JJ.
Between the birth of Ben and our second child, Susan, two years later we still had sex at least four times a week, and if someone was babysitting for Ben more than that -- back to pre-child amounts. The pregnancy with Susan went much the same as for Ben, again with only about a 2 ½ month hiatus, and then we picked up almost where we left off. So, going into the eighth year of our marriage we were still like a couple of minks.
Tanya and I had the appearance of being lovey-dovey when we weren't talking or fucking, and I thought the envy of most of our friends and co-workers. Actually, I was the envy of all of my male friends since within six months after Susan was born Tanya's body looked like it did when she was 21.
At that point in time I was actually very much enjoying married life. While I still don't think that I knew what "love" was in the romantic sense, I knew that I loved my children and that I really, really enjoyed having kids. I also thoroughly enjoyed Tanya's company, and my lust for her had not decreased even one iota from the first time that I saw her.
So that she just didn't have to talk to the kids and go crazy, especially in view of how much she loved to chat and exchange ideas with adults, Tanya got a part-time job when Susan was four years old. She worked for an executive relocation firm that provided part-time or full-time relocation services for company executives when being moved from one part of the country to another. Often times she would set up an executive with temporary housing, some of it owned by the company that she worked for, and then help him or her find a more permanent location either before or after their family moved to be with them. She normally worked twenty hours a week, got good pay although no benefits (I had complete health insurance coverage so that was not a problem), and never had to travel. She was almost always available on her cell phone and would usually call back within a few minutes if you had to leave a message.
At first Tanya didn't really like her job. The main problem she had, according to her, was that most of the people that she worked with, or helped out, weren't particularly chatty. They always seem to be in a hurry, and "on the clock," so the job wasn't fulfilling her desire to have conversational interaction with adults as much a she would've liked. She talked about quitting, even though other decent part-time jobs were not plentiful, but after she'd been working about six months she started coming home from work much happier.
"You seem to be a lot cheerier when you come home from work these days, Tanya," I said to her one day after we'd just had a really phenomenal JJ.
"Actually, I have been dealing with some people at work who are much more chatty than the people I normally work with, so it's been a lot more fun. Also I seem to really be appreciated for some of the things that I do," she smilingly replied.
After Tanya had been working at her part-time job for about six weeks after she indicated that she was working with people who were much more chatty, and who appreciated her more, there were two Mondays and Wednesdays in a row when I called her on her cell phone while she was at work that went straight to voicemail, and where she didn't return my call promptly, as she always had before. I didn't have any reason to doubt Tanya's fidelity and that is not what led me to do what I did next, namely bring my phone and hers into the IT people at my company and ask them to install locator apps on both of our phones.
Shortly after the apps were installed by my IT department I started to really notice the Monday, Wednesday, pattern. If I called her around noon on Monday or Wednesday it went straight to voicemail and I never got an immediate callback; typically she didn't call me until an hour later. She always had one excuse or the other, and most of them would have been convincing if taken in isolation. However, when you combined them together "there was something rotten in the State of Denmark."
To follow up on this suspicious behavior I made several inquiries of the day care center about how much time Tanya was leaving the kids with them on Monday and Wednesday. From what I could gather, several weeks before my inquiry she had started leaving the kids with the day care center approximately two hours more per week, one hour on each Monday and Wednesday, than she had before.
The very next Wednesday, armed with the day care information, I called Tanya at lunch. As expected, she didn't answer but my call went immediately to voicemail. I used the app on her phone to determine where she was. It was one of the temporary relocation units owned by the company that she worked for. I drove there then sat in my car, out of sight of the unit, until at about 1 PM Tanya exited the unit with a big smile on her face. She was closely followed by a well-dressed handsome man who looked to be in his early 40s who was giving Tanya playful pinches on her ass while they chatted up a storm. His smile was even bigger than hers. They got into their cars, waved, and drove off.
It was a simple matter to find out from Tanya's workplace who the individual was that was using the relocation unit. His name was Jack Whitney, an executive with a Fortune 500 company who had a wife and a teenage daughter at his home in a city about 600 miles away.
Being a low-tech but high IQ guy, I also reasoned that Tanya likely had a key to the temporary relocation unit that Mr. Whitney was staying in. That same Wednesday night I looked through her keys on her keychain, identified ones that I thought could be to the unit I was interested in, and made a quick trip to the hardware store to get them duplicated. I returned the original keys to Tanya's keychain while she was putting the kids to bed.
