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It’s all for her.
For us.
For our future family.
“You really like the past, huh?” I ask her, looking around.
“It’s got more for me than my apartment,” Carol notes truthfully, her eyes wide and I can’t help but feel the same.
“Do you really hate Christmas so much?” I ask her, feeling myself moving forward.
“Not anymore,” she whispers.
And I know. Because neither do I.
“Okay, c’mon then,” I say, lifting her up by the hand and leading her back to the other end of the house, the fire still burning and all.
“Where are we-”
“You’ll see,” I inform her, figuring it’s the start of tradition anyway, even though I never liked it.
“There’s a place… where they used to keep everything,” I tell her, wondering. Hoping it’s all still there.
And it is.
A whole room-sized closet filled with old Christmas decorations. A tree as well, old stuff but probably better than anything our current stores sell.
Boxes of baubles, tinsel, and a proud angel I covet with one hand, reserving it for the right moment.
“This is great,” Carol squeaks, clutching everything to her chest, box after box after she tells me she wants to set it all up.
“Christmas, just for us. If you want?” she asks, and I have to stab a nod, feeling my heart go at seeing her so excited.
I watch her carry the heaviest boxes back to the old end of the house.
Wondering if Grandpa ever had such a love.
Wondering if he ever knew what true love was.
If he didn’t or if he did, it doesn’t matter.
I do now, I have the love of my life, and watching her behind as it shifts to and fro all the way back to where we started, I hear my own low sounds of satisfaction.
I know I love her, and I know this place belongs to her now because of it.
It’s my true gift to her since she gave herself to me.
“A lit fire and decorations,” she says, unpacking the boxes and making me feel old but so young again at the same time.
“What could be more like Christmas?”
I watch her set up and decorate the tree, stringing more of the old style tinsel across the place and making it feel like home more than it ever has.
Lifting her with both hands by her hips, I make sure she can set the antiquated angel atop the old tree before I have to sit back down.
Too turned on to even be near her without pressing myself against her.
“I don’t really know,” I confess absently, watching her figure move across the room, to the tree again, and then back to me.
The firelight dances behind her and there’s this glow in her eyes that tells me just one thing.
Gnawing her lip as I sit with my legs open in a leather chair, she lets her robe fall open until it finally drops to the floor altogether.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispers hoarsely.
My eyes are wider as I inspect her in this new light.
“Again?” I hear myself ask as an ancient clock chimes twelve somewhere. Telling me it really is Christmas.
As if I needed reminding.
It’s as if Old Saint Nick himself has plucked the angel from the tree and delivered her straight to my lap.
“Again,” she affirms, and before I can move, her thick thighs are sliding over mine again.
The robe keeping me warm spread wide by her hands.
The fire crackling and letting a pine cone pop against the screen.
Her damp yearning eager for my stiffness again as she hovers over my newly glistening cock.
No anxiety or worry now, we just both know how good it feels with me inside her, and with a deft movement of my hand, I slide into her.
Drawing a long moan of satisfaction from both of us.
I grip her fine ass with both my hands, which feel huge against her softness. She eases herself down and slowly but very firmly starts to grind against me.
Bucking her hips in tune with the turning of mine, both of us speaking a new language as we redefine the space we’ve drawn to zero between us.
Her full breasts dance before my eyes, with each grinding movement of her hips they heave.
I take each one in turn into my mouth, until I’m finally gripping them both firmly.
Squeezing them both hard as I feel her pumping up and down on my cock, which feels like steel against her waterfall of softness.
My thrusting and her pumping soften to a slow movement as we both feel her climax approaching.
She shudders and gasps as I grip her cheeks, kneading them together and pulling them apart once I feel my balls rise again.
Pulsing in time with our shared breath as I feel her receive me inside her one more time.
It’s not just my physical strength, but my love for her that holds her as she comes on my manhood.
I could hold her like this forever, and a new part of me vows to.
