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When I knocked on her door that afternoon, she opened it wearing a green velvet dress, laced in the front to show a little bit of cleavage, and her hair was brushed out nicely. She just stared at me.
I wore a simple brown suit, a hat held at my chest, with a single rose in my outstretched hand. I was so nervous, much like I’d been the night I’d met Agatha at the ball.
Kathleen held a shaky hand to her mouth and I realized she was seeing me in my younger form for the first time. I’d warned her to be ready for a surprise, but most would assume that meant showing up in a fancy carriage or maybe giving her an elaborate gift.
Shedding pounds and years overnight wasn’t normal and the look on her face reminded me just how abnormal it was.
She’d asked her mother to watch Madison for the weekend. So I spent time at her house. I bought all the food I could in the town market and made her a spaghetti dinner, one of my favorite meals. I hadn’t cooked in a long time but I’d practiced two nights in a row back at the North Pole and the elves never seemed to grow tired of my pasta.
Kathleen loved it. We talked for hours by the fire, sipping wine, and enjoying each other’s company. I liked her tremendously and even though a part of me was hesitant to go through the pain that would come later just to feel the love that would lead there, I couldn’t help but fall for her. I’d been alone too long.
As I held her hand on the rug-covered floor, I told her my story the best I could. We didn’t have time to go through all the details and I didn’t wish to go into much about my first wife but I told her all about the North Pole and what it was like to live there.
“It’s so far away,” she said.
“It is, which is what makes it so amazing that I stopped to stare at you that Christmas Eve. I usually enter and leave so quickly. I have a lot of houses to visit and I can only make time stand still for so long.”
“Time stands still?” she asked.
“A little,” I admitted.
I couldn’t tell her all my secrets but time freezing was one of the perks. Without it, I wouldn’t possibly be able to deliver all the presents. Forwarding myself was another. That’s the process of speeding myself up to the point that I’m like a blur of light whipping through homes, dropping off gifts.
I’d just come down from a forwarding moment when I’d entered Kathleen’s house. That’s the only reason I was still enough to actually see what was going on inside the home. I tried to be still at least once in each country to get a sense of the people there and how they appreciated the Christmas season.
“And you stopped to look at me?” she asked as she tucked a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear.
The light from the fireplace lit up the left side of her face and left the right shrouded in mystery. Her lips were wet with wine and I wanted to sip it from her mouth.
“I did,” I said. “I couldn’t resist. I’d never seen anything so lovely. You were calm, peaceful, and beautiful. I knew from the worry on your face as you dreamt that you lived a harsh life, but the way your lips curled up at the corners in a sort of half-smile, told me you remained a good person despite the cruelty of the world.”
“Wow, you see a lot in a short time, don’t you?”
“Sometimes.”
“And you liked me?”
“I like you.”
With that, I reached out, took her face in my hand, and kissed her. I took her bottom lip between my lips and licked the wine from it. She moaned into my mouth.
“I want to take you home with me,” I whispered. “I want to give you and your daughter everything your hearts desire. No more hunger, no more sorrow, no more tears. Come with me.”
“Yes,” she said. “Take me.”
“Come for me,” I added as I lowered my mouth, pushed her back onto the floor, and lifted her dress.
I’d learned something about myself earlier that year. I loved to eat pussy. And I was good at it. Really good. Like I said, when I was between wives, I went a little crazy. Let’s just say I was a connoisseur of cunt. Ugly word, cunt, I know, but connoisseur of cunt rolls so easily off the tongue.
Kathleen pulled her dress up to her stomach, giving me full access to her. I ran my head up her leg, letting my damp lip streak across it as I lifted my face to her cloth-covered crotch. I put my face to her panties and inhaled, loving the scent of her, wanting to taste her so badly.
I took her pussy in my mouth and sucked on the fabric, dampening it with my tongue, and feeding it into her pussy as I pressed my mouth against her lips. She arched her back, letting me know I was doing just fine.
I tongued the spot where her hole was, soaking the panties, and teasing her. She wanted me inside her but she wasn’t getting it yet. I needed her to know that if I took her back to the North Pole, she was going to have to be okay with me eating her pussy whenever I wanted. And that was often.
I liked pussy with my coffee, pussy after my morning jog, pussy on work breaks, and pussy after dessert. If she liked to come, she’d have a happy life ahead of her. After all, I am and always was, the master of toys.
“What you’re doing,” Kathleen said. “I like it. Yes, that.”
