Chapter 18

Thursday 24th to Saturday 26th December 1970

All day she’d been wearing a figure hugging tee shirt and skin-tight jeans, which was very distracting. We did the last minute shopping so there was plenty of food in the flat. We decorated a Christmas Tree we bought that afternoon. It’s amazing the reductions you can get on Christmas Eve! I mean, who wants a tree the day after Christmas?

I put up the crib I’d made from plaster of paris when a boy. I made some mince pies using the mincemeat my mother had made, while Connie vacuumed the floors of the dropped pine needles and dusted round, putting up the cards I’d received. Then I told her I was going to ‘midnight mass’ at nine o’clock that evening.

“Why so early?” she asked with a worried frown.

“No,” I told her, laughing, “Back in the old days there was a Eucharist actually at midnight, but now it’s at nine, but it’s still called ‘midnight mass’.”

“Oh,” she looked relieved, and I laughed at her expression at which she pouted prettily.

“Can I come?” she asked.

Of course she could, and we did, going as we were, though wrapped in overcoats against the cold, returning home way after ten. As we arrived at the block, snow which had been trying all evening, began to fall in earnest in big flakes, which landed feather-light on our noses and eyelashes, and we looked at each other and smiled.

“Hmm,” she sighed. “This is turning into the most perfect Christmas.”

We had a couple of hot mince pies each (one is never enough), a few nuts and glasses of Port (one is never enough), sitting gazing at the lights on the tree and those lighting the window decoration, and listening to Christmas Carols on the cassette tape deck of the music centre.

Then we stood with our arms round each other, looking out of the window at the snow which was now falling more thickly than ever.

There is something to be said for standing in a toasty warm flat gazing at snow falling, and knowing that it’s so cold out there.

There’s also something to be said for being in the same flat’s warm bedroom knowing that nakedness will be no hardship at all. Connie’s nipples were standing to attention under that tee shirt and it wasn’t from the cold!

So I got my Christmas present from Connie late that Christmas Eve. I had got cocoa, and had brought it to my bedroom. Somehow I assumed that Connie would be there, and she was, still fully dressed and those nipples threatening to breach her tee shirt and run for freedom.

I put her mug down and turned back to find her standing naked in front of me; that had been a hell of a speed strip. I had my back to the bed.

“Tonight’s my turn,” she said and pulled me in for a kiss. We kissed for quite some time, exploring each other’s lips and then, open mouthed, we invited each other in for some tongue action.

It had the reaction I expected and it seemed that she’d hoped for. She stood back a little, reached down and deftly unsnapped my pants, then drew the zip down slowly.

There is something very erotic about a nude woman pulling down the zip of your fly. It conveys her wish to take your cock and do what she wants with it. Further, you know that whatever she does is going to be lots of fun!

Connie pushed my pants down and I kicked them with my slippers off my bare feet. Then she slid her hands into the sides of my briefs and slid them down in their turn, using her thumbs to lift the front over my erection. Then she left them on my thighs and pushed up my tee shirt, encouraging my arms to raise, so she would take it off.

Only then did she return to my briefs, pushing them slowly down my legs and going to her knees to take them off my feet.

“Sit down,” she ordered. I sat, legs wide, cock upright and rigid.

She leaned forward and took me in her mouth, her fingers playing with my thighs, then reaching under her chin to fondle my balls.

“Lie back,” came the command.

I lay back on my elbows and gave her access to my perineum and anus, which she traced and stroked as she resumed her oral attention to my prick, taking me well into her hot wet mouth, then pulling back with a little suction. It was so intense, I began to make noises. Loud sighs, grunts, moans. The odd ‘Yes!’ and ‘Ohh!’.

It did not take long before I could feel that gathering which presaged a climax and release.

“Connie, sweetheart,” I groaned, “I’m close.”

Quick as a flash she was astride me, her hand grabbed my straining cock aligned it, rubbed it a little between her inner lips and applied it to her place, when she pushed down and back and fell onto it till she bottomed out on my root, her warm sheath clasping, warming and wetting me.

“That’s what I wanted,” she gasped, her eyes half closed with pleasure. “Oh, you feel so good!”

She lay down on me, twisting her body so as to rub those nipples over my chest, while nibbling and kissing my neck, while I made a lot of noise as the feelings overwhelmed me.

It was not a comfortable position for her, since her knees were on the edge of the bed and her lower legs had nowhere to get any purchase. She lifted off me, stood, and pointed up the bed. I obeyed and she resumed her position, flat upon me, and kissing neck, chin, cheeks, ears and throat, as her nips pressed into me.

She did that hip wobble thing women do, and my prick was quickly deep inside her, and she was rubbing her mound against my root, causing a circular motion within her channel, which brought forth a moan from her in turn.

Thanks to our repositioning the imminence of an ejaculation had receded, and as she sat up on me, I began to thrust from below. She began to rise and fall in her turn, her tight breasts swinging a little with each movement. Her face was vacant, her eyes unseeing as she became lost in the sensual excitement that was growing in her.

Then she stopped, and began to pull me to the side in an invitation for me to get on top and fuck her missionary style.

“Please,” I begged, “not that way, stay on top please!”

She looked surprised, but stopped her effort and resumed her position, bouncing faster and faster, as her tits bounced and swayed. I grabbed them and held them, tweaking the nipples and with a loud cry she came. Her movements became erratic, her body’s ecstasy overruling any control.

I was so close I continued to push into her, feeling the pulsing which pushed me over the edge and I released my cream deep into her hot vagina, spurt after spurt splashing into her insides. It was wrenching and sucking my life out of me into her, and it was exquisite.

She lay limply on me panting with the effort, her head resting on my shoulder, her legs either side of mine.

I was still inside her when she raised herself a little.

“Happy Christmas,” she said breathlessly. “I had nothing to give you, so I thought I’d give you me.”

Her head dropped back onto me.

“Thank you,” I said, feeling and sounding quite touched. “Best present.”

My spent penis slipped from her, and she reacted. She slipped off me to my side and cuddled up.

“You wanted me on top,” she said after a moment or two. “Why?”

“How often have you been on top before?”

She thought. “Once or twice with Trevor, the guy I went to London with.”

She understood immediately, and hugged me hard.

We sat up, drank our now lukewarm cocoa, settled down and went to sleep, she spooning me.

The snow didn’t lie deep and white and pristine that Christmas morning, in fact it didn’t really lie at all, but there were patches of white on grass which reflected the light of the rising sun, and at least it had snowed and we had seen it falling the night before and it had made our day perfect. More snow was to fall two days later, and that did lie.

I made her a cooked breakfast that Christmas morning: bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes (pronounced tomahtoes - they taste different that way), fried bread and a poached egg. With, of course the ubiquitous tea. I put the tray down on the dresser, and kissed her awake, revelling in her blissful smile, which rapidly turned into excitement as she smelled the food.

“Ooh, breakfast in bed!” she crowed. She sat up, I gave her the tray and went back for my own, climbing into bed beside her.

“Happy Christmas!” I kissed her eggy mouth, then screeched a warning about the tray as she tried turning to kiss me back. She righted herself and the tray in time, and pouted.

After the meal we put the trays down and made gentle love. No frills, just a lot of kissing touching, stroking and then joining towards a gentle climax apiece. Immensely satisfying for both, and we smiled into each other’s eyes. Peaceful. This time I was on top but was very gentle with long slow strokes which had an intense effect on both of us.

Then out of bed. We had to be at my parents’ by eleven for coffee and presents. I had gifts from the three girls as well as my own, and more for the family. We put the gifts into six carrier bags and Connie carried two and I four. We walked: I knew I would not be fit to drive by the end of the day. Twenty-five minutes in the sunshine did us no harm at all.

Connie began to look more worried, even fearful as the walk progressed.

“Connie, my love,” I reassured her, “they will love you, and you’ll have a great time. Just do what comes naturally.”

“You think so?” she asked, uncertain of my certainty.

“I know so,” I emphasised. “You will be one of the family in the first thirty seconds. I speak as one who knows!”

We entered the house and my mother met us in the hallway.

“Connie!” she exclaimed with the biggest smile. “Welcome! Happy Christmas!”

She then did what she was so good at, she hugged Connie thoroughly. Then she hugged me.

“I don’t know how you find all these lovely young girls,” Mum said, “but you’ve done it again! Dad will be delighted, Connie will make his Christmas!”