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“Honey, are you even listening at all?” Mom asks, clicking her tongue in disappointment.
My face is hot as I shove my cell phone in my pocket and very deliberately don’t think about the video from earlier, and the subsequent very sexy texts.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m just distracted.”
“You’ve been glued to that phone since you got here. What could possibly be so important that it’s taking away from your time with your family? We barely see you as it is.”
Guilt churns in my stomach. I don’t mean to be distracted, but anyone would with the sexiest man alive sending inappropriate texts to you. Not that I’d ever tell my mom that.
“Nothing, just a coworker. I’ll put it away. I promise.”
Mom tuts again but launches back into her story about her book club ladies so I know she’s not really upset. Besides, Dad is completely checked out. He’s lounged back in his recliner, drinking beer and watching some football game. Not really sure how he can get away with ignoring Mom’s stories, but I can’t, but it’s always been this way.
It’s just before dinner time and the first of her guests—my Aunt Cindy, Uncle Joey, my cousins Marcy and Michael, Michael’s wife Lara, and their baby—will be arriving soon. This will be the one and only time all holiday weekend the food isn’t home-cooked. My mom ordered a couple trays of food for tonight.
The house is spotless, and all the food is prepped. That’s why I was on my phone, mostly. Yes, I was checking to see if Alex had messaged again, but I needed a few minutes to myself without my mom low-key criticizing everything I helped her with. But, I guess that’s too much to ask.
Usually, I enjoy helping to prepare for the holidays. It’s just felt different the last few years. This year, I might be a little more distracted than usual, but I’ll try to put that aside from now on. If I act too strange, my mom will smell blood and nag me until I break and tell her it’s Alex texting me. And I really don’t want that to happen.
My parents’ house is decorated to the nines. When I was a kid, I used to help Dad string all the outside lights as my mom supervised, making sure they were to her standards.
I’m not around anymore and my dad is getting old, so they hire someone for the outside now. The interior is my mom’s domain. She has three Christmas trees, which as an adult, I realize is excessive, but it makes her happy.
The foyer has the largest one and as usual, it’s decorated strictly in white. The one in the formal dining room is done exclusively in gold and red. Finally, the one down in the family room is the mishmash tree that consists of all the handmade decorations I did as a kid as well as other random ones they’ve accumulated over the years. That one is my favorite because it showcases how we actually are as a family, not the showpiece my mom insists on presenting a lot of the time.
Large, fresh wreaths decorate every window in the house and the front door. I spent two hours this morning tying red velvet bows to poinsettia plants my mom is using as centerpieces. Everything is very formal and very regal.
I’m not sure when Christmas in my house became such a serious affair. When I was little, the house was always filled with bright lights and cheer. The colorful decorations that used to be spread throughout our home have been replaced. The majority of my homemade decorations are packed up, besides the few on the tree. My cousins and I used to run around the place in our Christmas outfits, stealing home-baked cookies and trying to guess what our presents were.
Now, there’s not a cookie to be seen. Or a homemade dessert. All of them are bought from the local bakery and are fancy desserts with names I can’t pronounce.
I asked my mom once a couple years ago why the change and she brushed me off. All she did was smile and tell me, “You and your cousins are grown now. It’s time our Christmas celebrations grow too.”
Of course, she seemed to completely brush over the fact that my cousins have kids now, but I’m not even going to attempt to touch that subject. I know it’ll just turn into her nagging me to settle down, so I let it go.
When there’s finally a break in my mom’s story, I use that as a chance to escape. “Mom, I’m going to take a quick shower before Aunt Cindy and Uncle Joey get here.” She eyes me, assessing me before nodding.
I know I look a mess and really do need a shower. I had quickly wiped myself down and changed my pants earlier. Luckily, I packed more than one pair of the same color sweats, so my change went unnoticed after my… um, accident earlier, but I didn’t have time for much more. And between that and cleaning all day, I really did need to wash. Plus, I need fifteen minutes of alone time because I’m hard, again, and need to take care of it before the house is full of family.
If Alex plans to continue messaging me the whole weekend, I’m not going to survive it. And I will not cum in my pants in front of my family, no matter how needy I am. I need to get a grip on myself. Or maybe a cock cage.
I jump in the shower and make quick work of my erection. Just imagining the video of Alex is enough. Once I feel relief, I wash up and get out. I know if I take longer than twenty minutes, Mom will be banging on the door just like she did when I was a kid. I already had to explain to her once what I was doing when I took too long at sixteen, in the most embarrassing conversation of my life. I’m not doing it again at thirty.
Even though today is the casual day, I still dress in a pair of slacks and a long-sleeve button-down. I know my mom expects it. The pants don’t fit right, and I’m sure she’ll comment on it. But, it’s almost impossible to find pants that are long enough to fit lengthwise but have a narrow enough waist that they’re not falling off of me. I should probably get a pair or two tailored, but I only ever wear my dress clothes during the Christmas season, so it’s not a huge priority. I tame my hair with a little product and my fingers.
When it’s all said and done, I don’t look too bad. I still hate the clothes, but I don’t look horrible in them. On impulse, I snap another selfie. I start to write,Had to change after you made me cum in my pants earlierbut think better of it. All of that confidence I felt before slowly slipped away after a few hours of no messages. I know why he hasn’t messaged me. He was helping his nieces wrap presents, but that doesn’t stop my brain from coming up with other scenarios.
I can’t bring myself to send the message. I quickly erase it and replace it with,Aunt and uncle will be here soon. There, totally casual. Nothing to worry about, just a friendly text. I’ll wait to see how Alex reacts. If he takes it to the next level, then I’ll tell him about my reaction to the video.
I’m not sure why, but I want him to know what I did. I need to see how he responds to it. Maybe I should see if he can video chat tonight. Is that too weird?
My phone buzzes. With my heart pounding in my chest, I open the message from Alex. It’s a fire emoji and the panting face emoji repeated like ten times. Then a second text,
Alex: looking good, lamb. Even if you’re wearing entirely too many clothes.
I swallow and casually adjust myself before leaving the bedroom. I’m still soft. I’m way too old to have that kind of recovery time, but still, my dick tries to make the effort.
“Zachary! Where are you? Your aunt just called. She’ll be here in five minutes!”
