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*** Note: This is the third installment of a story originally submitted for the Winter Holidays 2012 contest. There will be two more installments. I hope you like it. ***
On the sixth day of Christmas, we all went ice skating at an outdoor rink downtown. Warming up by a fire pit with some hot cocoa afterward, the sun glinting brilliantly off the snow on a crisp, clear day, watching a couple of much better skaters do double axels and lutzes, it felt to me like we were becoming a family again. Wendy felt it, too; she leaned her head on my shoulder once and told me so. We even held hands on the way back to the car, something we hadn’t done in years; even with gloves on, it felt nice, almost like we were starting over. That night after our daughter was in bed, we made love. It was slow, passionate, sensual, and deeply satisfying both physically and emotionally, and that’s all you get to know about it; that night’s private, something only she and I will share.
On the seventh day of Christmas, we spent most of the day redecorating our daughter’s room. We stripped off the old wallpaper with teddy bears and blocks, and repainted the walls. We’d painted them yellow while Wendy was pregnant, not wanting to know ahead of time whether we would have a boy or a girl. I’d told our daughter that she could have any color she wanted, and she chose purple. I did all the edging; our daughter did the bottom part of the walls and Wendy did the rest. Working together, we got the whole thing done in a day and had some laughs along the way.
After supper, we sent our daughter to a neighbor’s house for the annual neighborhood New Year’s Eve kids party, which rotated around among eight or 10 houses every year. We’d hosted it last year, and I was glad we had a long time before we had to do it again. Most kids spent the night at the party, so we had the house to ourselves until morning, and even though I was pretty worn out from the day’s work, I was looking forward to my daily gift. We had a party of our own to go to, but it didn’t start until 9, and I figured I’d probably get lucky before that.
As soon as Wendy made sure our daughter had made it to the neighbor’s house, she announced she needed a shower. Half-way up the stairs, she called down, “Want to join me?” I definitely did, and almost beat her up the stairs. We stripped while the water was getting hot, then climbed in together, both facing the water with her in front. I shampooed her hair and washed her all over, pressing close when I reached around to wash her breasts, stomach, and between her legs. After she rinsed off, we switched positions and she did the same for me. When we were both squeaky clean all over, she turned me around, knelt down and sucked me slowly; after a while I helped her up and returned the favor, getting her to come once on my face. Then I stood up, pressed her into a corner, and entered her; she lifted one leg and wrapped it around me, aimed the water at us, and we explored our wet bodies with hands and tongues while we ground our hips together. My orgasm triggered another one for her, and by the time we were coming down from them we were running out of hot water. We washed off again quickly, then hopped out, dried off, and got ready for the party.
We’ve never really been party people, but this turned out OK. A couple of good friends were there, and we met one new couple we both liked. We kissed pendik escort at midnight and sang Auld Lang Syne with everybody, and shortly after that Wendy made our apologies to the hosts and we headed home. The hostess winked at me on the way out, which was very odd; we’d never been much more than wave-hi-to-each-other neighbors. I asked Wendy about it, and she said, “Oh, she wondered why we were leaving so early, and I told her we’d been wearing each other out lately.”
“You naughty girl,” I said.
“That’s exactly what she said,” Wendy answered. We had a good laugh over that, and went to sleep cuddled together and happier than we’d been in a long time.
On the eighth day of Christmas, before our daughter was home from her sleepover, Wendy looked at me over her coffee cup and said, “The last week has been great for me.”
“Me too,” I said, smiling.
“I don’t mean just the sex,” she said.
“I don’t either,” I said, still smiling.
“I feel like we’re connecting again, like we’ve found something we’ve been missing for a long time.”
“Me too,” I said again.
“You tried to tell me once, years ago, that the times when things were really rocky were the times we should be having more sex, not less, but I thought you were just trying to get your rocks off. Now I think maybe you were right.”
I thought a bit before answering that one. “I think I was right, but there’s more to it than that. You’ve stuck to your promise so far, even on one night when I know you just wanted to go to sleep, and that means a lot to me. You’ve also shown a lot of trust in me by trying a couple of new things that some people might think are … unusual, and you proved I could trust you with that dildo the other night. It’s made me a lot more comfortable and confident in our relationship than I’ve been in a long time.”
She’d gotten a little teary-eyed as I said that. When I stopped, she said, “I never stopped loving you, you know.”
“I know that,” I said. “I love you, too.” It was the first time in a long time I’d said that to her, and the first time in even longer that I’d actually felt it.
Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she said, “Well, before this gets too mushy, you should know something. The last two days, your present has come from making love. We’re not going to make love tonight. I’ve got something else in mind, and it’ll build on that whole ‘trust’ thing you were talking about. Just thought you should know.”
I got up and kissed her. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” I said, just as our daughter came home.
We spent the day calling family, playing board games, and putting a puzzle together, all three of us, and never got out of our pajamas. After our daughter was asleep, I found another note on the wall outside her door, just like the first one: “Come to the bedroom.”
Again, the bedspread and blankets were flipped down, there was a towel in the middle of the bed and that bottle of lube in the middle of the towel. And again, another note said, “Get naked.” I did, and sat on the edge of the bed. I knew there was going to be more anal play tonight, and thought she might be the one taking it this time; the anticipation was intense.
Wendy came out of the bathroom in that blue babydoll again, but without panties this time. She walked up to me, took both my hands in hers, looked deeply into my eyes, and maltepe escort said, “I am incredibly nervous about this. But I trust you.”
I started to say something, but she put a finger to my lips, then kissed me, and whispered again, “I trust you.” Then she climbed up on the bed and got on her knees and elbows.
I don’t like watching anal sex in porn, and for many years I hadn’t really been interested in doing it myself. For the last few years, though, I’d been wanting to try it, not because I thought I’d like the act so much but because I wanted her to trust me enough to let me do it. Like so many other things, she had never ruled it out, but had never wanted to really talk about it, let alone try it. And now here she was with her ass in the air, waiting for me. My cock went rock hard.
I picked up the lube from underneath her, and as soon as I saw the view from behind her I knew I had to eat her pussy first. Remembering how cold the lube had felt at first when she put it on me, I tucked the bottle under one arm to warm it up. Then I pushed her knees apart a little more, and with no further preliminaries, I buried my face in her pussy from behind. She wasn’t expecting that, I could tell, and she twitched from surprise. But then I felt her whole body relaxing from the familiar yet exciting sensations. I’ve always loved eating her pussy, and although this wasn’t my favorite position for it, I kept licking, sucking, and probing her until she came on my face.
Then I raised myself on my knees behind her, took the lube out from under my arm, and poured a good helping of it into her crack, letting it run down to her hole and drip onto the towel. I poured another dollop in one hand, and used it to coat my middle finger.
“I’m going to start caressing your ass now, ” I told her, and I did, running my slippery finger from her lower back all the way down her crack to her hole and a little farther, then back to her hole, then tracing the contours of her anus ever so gently.
“I’m going to press a little bit now,” I said. “As soon as my finger slips inside you, I’ll stop and let you get used to it.” Something told me I should tell her about every step, so she wasn’t surprised by anything. But she said, “Col, it’s OK. I trust you.” So I stopped the play-by-play, and I pressed until I felt my finger slip inside; then, as I’d promised, I stopped and just let my finger be there for a bit. In a few seconds I felt her relax some more, and she moaned softly; it sounded like pleasure, not pain, so I pushed in deeper, very slowly. There was a moment of increased tension; I caressed her back and butt with my other hand, and soon she relaxed again.
I got that finger buried all the way inside her, then started withdrawing it slowly. As soon I started pulling it out, she said, “Oh, gawwwd …” with a little note of surprise in her voice. I stopped moving and said, “You OK, Wen?”
“Oh yeah, I’m OK, babe,” she said. “That feels goooooood!”
Well now. This was really something; I didn’t expect her to enjoy it, or to admit it even if she did. I warned myself silently to be careful and not rush things. I pulled that finger almost all the way out, drizzled some more lube on it, then put it all the way back in, still going slowly. She moaned again as soon as I reversed direction. When my finger was almost all the way out, I put a second one next kartal escort to it and pushed in again. Again that moment of tension, again the relaxing and giving in to the feeling, and soon I had two fingers buried all the way inside her. This time as I pulled them out I wiggled them around a little and spread them out a bit; this got a deeper moan.
“Reach me a condom, Wendy?” I asked, and she got one out of the nightstand drawer and handed it to me. I gave it back and said, “I don’t think I can open it with one hand.” She ripped the package open, pulled out the condom and handed it back to me. I managed to get it on with my free hand while still moving my fingers slowly in and out of her.
I poured a bunch of lube on my wrapped cock and coated it all the way around and tip to base. Then I pulled my fingers out of her, wiped my hands on the towel, and pressed the head of my cock against her hole. Just as she had said to me a few days earlier, I said, “I’m only going to ask you one more time, Wendy. After this I’ll stop if you want me to, but you’ll have to ask me. You still OK?”
“I’m OK, Col,” she said. “I want this.”
So I pressed more firmly, and soon felt the head of my cock slip inside. “Where no man has gone before,” I thought, but I kept that to myself. I waited there for a bit, but this time she didn’t tense up, so I plunged it in deeper, slowly. As soon as I started moving out instead of in, she moaned deeply and lustily, and moved her arms to let her shoulders fall to the mattress. As I adjusted to the new angle, I saw that she had one hand between her legs, fingers massaging her mound. I gave her three long, slow strokes, reveling in the incredible tightness; I’d never had so much slippery pressure on my cock before. When I’d pulled most of the way out the third time, she rocked back against me a little and said huskily, “You don’t have to be gentle.”
I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly, so I paused and said, “Sorry, what?”
She said, “Do me. Fuck my ass like you want to!”
I had not expected this either; this woman I thought I’d known so well was full of surprises lately. I picked up the pace. Her canal was so tight that I couldn’t go as fast as when I’m in her pussy, but I gave it to her deep and hard and as fast as I could. She kept rubbing herself with her right hand; her left hand clasped a bunched-up roll of the sheet. I could feel her insides clench as her orgasm built, and her rocking and shuddering as the wave crashed brought me right to edge; two more deep thrusts and I buried myself in her and stayed there, pulsing my load in her tight passage.
I pulled out slowly, holding onto the base of the condom with one hand to be sure it came out with me. She moaned again and shuddered a little when the head of my cock popped out. I slid the condom off quickly and dropped it on the towel; then I leaned over her, reached both arms around her and raised her up until we were both kneeling. I ran my hands up under that beautiful blue babydoll and cupped her breasts; she twisted her shoulders and neck around, reached one hand around to the back of my head, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Then we collapsed sideways together on the bed.
After a few minutes I used the towel to clean us both off a little, and she went into the bathroom. I disposed of the condom, tossed the towel in the hamper, and was just pulling the covers up when she came back. She kissed me again, laid her head on my shoulder, and said, “Wow. Just wow.”
“Yeah,” was all I could think of to say.
“And just think,” she said, sleep edging into her voice. “Still four days of Christmas to go.”
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