We'd fought about it last night. Her Christmas gifts to me were always so calculated, so ordinary and unexciting. It was sadly apparent that she invested little of her time in selecting them, and even less of her mind considering what might please me. Many times, I was sure she'd chosen something that actually served her purpose more than it served mine; such as the time she bought me the snow blower after complaining that I never shoveled the drive. Over the years I began to dread the holidays because of how shabby her gifts made me feel, and I made my feelings known last night when I announced in a fit of rage that I was going to toss the gift I'd bought her into the waste basket.
"That's it!" I yelled, when she laughed at me for bringing it up. "It might be silly to you, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm completely invisible to you every Christmas. Clearly, you have no idea about the concept of giving from the heart and I don't want to do this anymore. This is officially my last Christmas and you can take that however you like."
I'd stormed off to the bedroom, knowing I was being childish, yet unable to make myself apologize. It was more than the gifts; it was but the gift, really. She was completely unavailable to me during the holidays, and her gifts reflected how little she cared to invest in me, most especially, herself, her heart.
I fell asleep before she came to bed and when she woke me this morning by sinking her body onto my morning erection, I'd put the matter from my mind and laughed at my stupid behavior. As usual, the feel of her silky insides had changed my mood considerably. I even told her I was sorry afterwards.
She met me by the door when I was dressed.
"Come home early if you can, Mick; I have a special present for you. I want to give it to you tonight and I think you'll like it very much," she'd whispered.
I stood there for a moment, watching her - a vision in a white satin camisole and French cut bikini panties. After a reluctant leave, I'd thought of her words all day; words she'd whispered in a voice so seductive it resonated through my body. Christmas Eve and my favorite Jerzey at home, warm and soft, ready to envelop me. I hurried as best I could; Christmas gifts the last things on my mind.
Now, here I am, lying on the carpet in our sitting room in nothing but silk boxers, and Jerzey is leaning over me, her breasts nearly slipping from a slight satin garment as she offers me wine. I accept, allowing her to tilt the glass until my parched lips meet merlot, and I note the sparkle in her eyes. Jerzey always glitters, but her eyes tonight are emerald chips - ice and fire married behind shadow-dusted lids.
Sleek black hair draping over a bare shoulder, she lifts a piece of fruit, intent on feeding me, but I shake my head and reach for her. She's sly and evades my grasp, slithering away a few inches. But the satin slides high and reveals her tanned hip. I groan and my erection grows another inch.
"Lie down all the way," she nearly sighs, and I recognize that husky sound. My Jerzey wants me, and I'll do what she asks. Shifting slightly, I slip to my back and feel her cool fingers tug at the waistband of my boxers. I lift my hips, and Jerzey unwraps me, her movements slow and agonizing.
The sky through our bay window is midnight blue kissed by azure as across the apparent horizon, evening descends. In the corner, the only illumination, a small Christmas tree, blinks its lights at me and I hear my breaths deepen. Jerzey strokes my chest, and I focus on the North Star through the window, my head swimming. Soon her lips join her fingers, and I feel the startling warmth of her wet mouth as she suckles a nipple. I'm sinking fast, and I still haven't gotten my gift.
Or... perhaps I have. If so, it is already more than I dreamed.
She's impatient, her hunger strong. With amazing agility, she tugs at my hands until she has me in the perfect position. With a smile, she pulls one creamy thigh up high, its softness grazing my cheek before she settles it by my side. In an agonizing instant, she straddles me.
"Don't touch me," she whispers, and I drop the hands that had seconds before sought to caress her thighs.
Her grin shows her approval and I comfort myself with the feel of her warmth surrounding my lower body.
Jerzey, my angel, begins to move. Her head drops to my chest and she slides her satin shrouded body against mine, her hard nipples sending fire through my belly. The feel of her hair on my shoulders is merely an antecedent to the exquisite softness of her skin. I yearn for her and she knows it, and remains elusive.
"Honey, please," I gasp, but she only laughs a little and tosses her hair, its scent following the movement and arousing me fresh.
She reaches for a slice of chilled melon and eases it between my lips, her own mouth forming a small "O" of encouragement, but my hunger is only for her. A shake of her head has me opening, but before I can chew, she is upon me, her lips wrapping the other end of the fruit, her breath in my ear. She sucks softly and I hear her throat swallow, riding a soft sigh. Hungrily, she eats, she devours this flesh, she consumes every morsel. As her lips approach mine, she raises her eyes and locks onto me while she works the last remaining bit from my mouth to hers.
Although she has yet to touch me intimately, I am aroused watching her eat. A small trickle of juice runs down her chin, reminding me of how she looks with my seed on her lips. I hear a groan and understand somehow that the sound is mine, and then Jerzey kisses me.
Together we move, her lips tugging at mine, her teeth digging for the fruit and I yield completely as from somewhere "Silent Night" drifts into the room. It is Christmas and my wife is devouring my mouth while carolers serenade us with the sound of the holidays. Just one step closer to the window and they will see our love. I'm nearly bursting with pride.
Without warning, she moans and speeds her movements, catching my lower lip between her teeth and tugging hard. I give in, amazed, enchanted, and filled with a want to give her whatever she yearns for. She takes my hands and brings them above my head, her hair a sweet-smelling curtain of night that blocks the twinkling lights.
Jerzey pauses. She lifts her head and stares at me. I've never seen her like this: so sexy, so intent, so turned on. Gone is the playful gleam in her eyes, replaced with a need that I cannot fathom. Holding my hands tight in one small fist, she lowers her head and traces the outline of my lips with her tongue. She feeds on them until her fervor overcomes her and she plunges into my mouth, hot and urgent.
Caught off guard, I gasp around her tongue. She's alive and her body is so hot. She can't get enough of my lips, my tongue, my saliva. Her gown slips high and my most sensitive appendage is instantly encased in warm, damp silk as she grinds herself against me. Again I yield, and allow her the control she craves because we both know that I could easily extract my hands from her grip, lay her on her back, and slide deep inside her.
My baby has outdone herself; this is the best gift in the world.
Jerzey kisses me, and in so doing, she drinks my soul, happily given in exchange for witnessing such need in her. She signals quietly and I roll to my stomach just as I feel her touch. She kneads my buttocks, slipping her hands between my cheeks and pulling me open just a little bit. Dizzy, I remind myself to breathe.
"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asks. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes," I answer, though my word is little more than a choked syllable.
Leaning down, she tugs at my earlobe with her teeth before breathing, "I will. And for Christmas this year... all you get is candy."
I wonder what she means, but I find I really don't care.
Jerzey moves. She rises to her knees and presses her crotch against my bottom. I feel her desperately flex and relax, grinding hard to find satisfaction that she knows she will not get. It is the dance that amuses her, the hunt that thrills her. It is this way tonight. She coos to me, inciting my senses with her soft whispers as her hands move across my skin.
She pulls. She places her hands on my hips and tugs me to my knees. My shaft is full, needy. It throbs between my legs. Jerzey touches me. She takes me, from behind and under, into a delicate hand and creates a fist to cradle me. I moan and try to thrust, but her shush stills me. Holding me like this, she begins a cautious movement, sweeping her palm up my length to capture the moisture that has crept from my slit. She breathes a deep sigh of satisfaction and massages the liquid into my skin. Every nerve ending I possess screams and I feel myself grow harder still.
"So hard," she coos, "so hot and so, so hard. You're bursting to cum, aren't you, darling. Your balls are tight and aching. You want me to touch them?"
At her pause, I only groan and press against her fist.
"Yes, I know you do, but baby mustn't move. You must let me have you, Mick. All of you." As if to qualify her words, she eases her other hand down and grasps me at the base of my shaft. She squeezes hard, very hard, and slides her fist up until another drop slips into her waiting palm, which she quickly smears along the cut of my cockhead.
Her body trembles and she whispers, "God, I need this."
.... There is more of this story ...