Mother was having none of it. She’d invested too much anticipation in this plan for it to be derailed by simple whining.
“Awwww, mooom, but it’s still early” the little boy drawled out his best puppy-dog whine, undermining his bargaining position by rubbing one drooping eye as he spoke.
“Yeah!” his little sister nodded along, wobbling her feet against her chair legs, still years from being able to touch the floor.
“It’s an hour and a half past your usual bed-time.” Father pointed his children’s attention to their old enemy, the wall clock.
“But it’s Christmaaaas!” Their son tried another tack, watching his parents’ faces for sign of weakening resolve. Sadly, nothing but impatience showed in Father’s features.
“Yeaaah, Chwissmas” the little girl pouted, more to be included in the argument than to make any sort of point.
“And tomorrow it’ll be Christmas morning” Father pointed out, somewhat obtusely, distracted by his wandering thoughts.
“But can’t we open just one present noooow?” The son eyed the shiny red packages beneath the tree with their fluffy green bows. Father’s eyes lit up, staring fixedly in Mother’s direction.
“Maybe just one” he mouthed soundlessly, before clearing his throat and in his best voice of gentle authority: “We talked about this earlier, you guys. The gifts will be right there tomorrow morning, waiting for you. They’re not going anywhere. Now come on.”
“Come on” Mother reinforced, lending her daughter a hand off the adult-sized chair she insisted on using as a grown-up preschooler. She led them both upstairs. By the time she’d ensured all four little eyelids had closed for the night, Father had cleared the table and was waiting for her on the sofa by the tree. Their looks locked for a silent moment, both grinning like idiots. Wordlessly, Mother flipped out the lights and popped secretively into the downstairs bathroom.
Father slumped back onto the sofa cushions, welcoming the moment of silence. A double spiral of LEDs lit the room with alternating red and green, more than enough to see by but still a restful flickering gloom, their own quaint little holiday disco. For once he didn’t mind his wife monopolizing the bathroom, dimly registering a couple of flushes while his mind wandered recounting the hints she’d been dropping the past weeks. One hand drifted down to absentmindedly rearrange his swelling gonads, then remembering some of her saucier asides went for broke and unzipped for more freedom. Finally, the bathroom door squeaked open. Something shapeless and fluffy flew around the corner to attack his face. His cock twitched in recognition of the soft clump of lacy satin drenched in female arousal. He gave it a good long satisfied, possessive sniff before doffing the impromptu headwear.
Mother stood before him, dressed much as she’d been the rest of the evening: a novelty elf hat handed out to all employees for the office Holiday party, plus a green top with white trim she’d bought to go with it, atop a pair of all-purpose black leggings.
“You want your present?” she rasped out in a stage whisper as she cocked her hips, one hand tracing the side of her ass imperceptibly.
“It’s not morning yet.” he pointed out disingenuously, grinning in the flickering tree lights. In response, she began undoing her top, revealing more and more bare cleavage underneath. She’d apparently ditched her bra and blouse in the bathroom as well.
“Oh, honey” she leaned in closer to his ear “some dark deeds should never see the light of day.” She let the sides of her top hang open, dragging one stiff nipple across his face as she straightened up. A step back and her hips began swaying to some unheard music, eyes narrowed. He eyed the stairs,
“Aren’t we going upstairs?”
“Not for this part. I like the lights.” She chuckled and stuck out her chest, letting red, then green, then red again glow against the gentle curves of her C-cups. “Just sit back.”
Father complied as his wife continued a slow, languorous, twisting dance to the unheard beat of the lights. By any strip club’s standards it would’ve been an awkward, meek, mis-timed affair on two left feet. “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun” however never stopped any man, and to Father’s inflamed passions her tottering booty waggling was a marvel to dazzle angels out of their hard-won wings. She managed to gyrate her nipples, blew kisses at him, then moved in for the kill. Her hands spread his knees before turning back to rub her ass in its elastic covering against his groin. Stopping to think a second, she surprised him by unzipping his pants all the way then dragging them with his underwear down to his ass, freeing his erection.
“What’re you doing?” He eyed the stairs suspiciously.
“Just be ready to pull up if you hear either of them.” Mother whispered, and without giving him a chance to reply, turned around and resumed her grinding on his bare shaft, erasing all other concerns from his mind. He dug his fingers into her marvelous tits once, never having fully recovered from breast-feeding but drooping just enough to enhance their playful wobbles, to drag her back against him for a swift, lip-crushing kiss. Back to rubbing and twisting. After a minute she straightened her legs to bring her curvy, twice-impregnated hips to his eye level.
“Go ahead. Unwrap it.”
He hooked his fingers into her elastic waistband and pulled the stretchy exercise pants around her pantiless derriere just enough to bring her moist, swollen vulva into view. Her breath knotted at the feel of moist air on her moist snatch, at her mate’s primal snuffling at her fragrant offering. He almost dove in for a taste before a strange chemical scent he’d previously ignored drew his attention ... slightly up. He heard mother gulp and exhale nervously.
“Can you see it?”
One of her hands reached back to pull a perfectly round buttock aside for a better view. The other took his hand and guided it to her anus. The tiny, dark little starfish shone with the lights. Red. Green. Red.
“It’s wet.” He remarked, blankly, his mind refusing to encompass the possibilities.
“Yeah. It’s lubed up for you. Clean and prepared and lubed up all for you. I’m ready. Tonight’s the night. You’re gonna get right up my chimney. Finally gonna sweep my chimney like you’ve always wanted to, dirty boy.”
She reached back to give him a playful slap, snapping him out of his incredulity and throwing him a look over her shoulder that could’ve melted the ice caps. Pants beneath her buttocks, she lowered her hips again, dragging her bare ass crack over his twitching, painfully stiff shaft, smearing lube and vaginal juice all over the object of her affections. She raised his cock with one hand and held it vertically against her anus, playfully gyrating the closed hole onto his phallus’ engorged head, getting ready to drag him up by it so they could go upstairs and close the deal.
An upstairs door creaked open. Both of their heads snapped to attention, breath caught in their throats. Mother’s already precarious balance was momentarily thrown. Her hips came down solidly, consuming six inches of rock-hard meat in a second. Searing pain overtook both of them. His prick felt as if it’d been skinned. Her backside felt split in two. He gritted his teeth and gasped, doubling over ineffectively with her in his lap. She felt like screaming at the searing agony overtaking her sphincter, but all she could manage was a spastic, bug-eyed exhalation emitting a desperate squeal audible only to dogs. Footsteps pattered to the landing, then down, one step after another.
Mother half moved to raise herself. A small pajamaed foot came into view, then the other. She brought her arms back against her chest, wrapping her holiday-themed green top around her breasts. Father had the wherewithal to smooth the garment’s fluffy white hem around their waists, masking her hips and his beneath them. Their son’s innocent face came into view.
“Mom? Dad? I woke up. My stomach feels funny.”
“Aaaah” Mother managed to make her painful whine sound halfway like an acknowledgement, but no more. Father blinked back tears and cleared his throat.
“Ummm ... aaaah, why don’t you ... that’s o-okay. Why don’t you ... why don’t you pour yourself half a glass of milk, okay, hero?”