It's a Christmas, Carol

by StangStar06

Copyright© 2013 by StangStar06

Sex Story: My wife wanted to go out on Christmas Day

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Cheating   2nd POV   .

Hi Folks, Last year's Christmas story was full of evil pooping reindeer and a foul mouthed Santa. That's almost normal compared to this one. Those of you who are looking for a lot of sex might want to pass this one by. Those of you who want a traditional Christmas divorce story might want to follow suit. But for those of you who want to take a walk on the weird side ... Enjoy. Merry Christmas All. And thanks to Sir Charles5150 for editing this one and to Mikothebaby for continuing to inspire. SS06

It all started out the way everything did. It was a typical day in late December. I was very concerned with my last ditch effort at trying to meet my sales goals for the year. So much so, that the fact that it was only three days before Christmas had completely escaped me.

I looked around the small warehouse that my company currently occupied and settled on several of my employees who weren't busting their asses. I got off of the phone and headed for them. We weren't going to sell any car parts with them lollygagging. At the rate things were going, I'd probably have to call them back to work the day after Christmas.

At the same time that I moved towards them, a slim figure with long red curls that stretched nearly to her ass moved to intercept me. This time though, she was too late. By the time she placed one delicate hand on my shoulder to calm me down I was already in mid rant.

"Exactly how are we supposed to meet our sales goals if all of my salesmen are hanging out in the middle of the floor doing nothing?" I screamed.

"But Ev, we were trying to decide what to..." began Rob, one of my oldest employees. Rob was my older sister's son, so technically he was my nephew. The weird thing about it was that my parents had remained frisky into their later years so my nephew was actually a year older than I am.

"Were you working?" I snapped.

"Well, uh ... no, Uncle Ev," he said. His shoulders slumped and he looked down at his shoes.

"Well uh ... get your asses back to work, or nephew or not I'll fire all of you," I screamed. I was beginning to work myself into a tizzy when that same little red headed ball of fire yanked me away from the guys and back into my office.

"Evan Neezer!" she said sharply. "Exactly what are you trying to accomplish. Yelling at those guys isn't going to do anything other than make them even less likely to meet your sales goals. They're good guys and they work hard. Do you know what they were doing?" she looked at me and pushed me back down into my large comfortable office chair.

"They were trying to figure out what to get you for Christmas. We all took up a collection. Every God damned person out there whether they're in sales or production chipped in. Evan sometimes you have to roll the hard six. Sometimes you just have to back off and let what will be, just be!"

"Iris, don't start singing Doris Day songs," I snapped.

"Que Sera Sera," she sang as if taunting me. "Evan, this year has been hell in the aftermarket parts game. How many of our former competitors went out of business this year?"

Before I could answer, she was talking again. "But you got us through it. We didn't lay off a single employee and we're still holding our own. In a year like this one, I'd call that sound business planning and operation. But maybe we should let your sales goal go. Evan ... it's Christmas."

"Bah ... Humbug," I spat.

"Bah Humbug my ass," she quipped. "Evan Neezer, there's no need to be such a Scrooge."

I glared at her, balling my fists at my sides. She stood there, unflinching, as if she knew something that everyone else, me included, didn't. I let out a huge sigh and went back into my office. Behind me she shooed the salesmen back to their desks.

That little dust up was only the beginning. A short time later, just before lunch, the real storm blew.

The front door opened and a woman who at 4 foot 11 inches made Iris at 5 foot 2, seem tall. She also outweighed Iris by at least a hundred pounds. Her hair was as black as a raven's wing. It was cut short and curled inwards towards her chin. Her eyes contrasted with the dark hair. They were a beautiful pale blue. Those pale Blue eyes coupled with very red lips and a purely angelic expression gave her a type of facial beauty that made men look past the rest of her.

She was wrapped in a very full, very expensive fur coat that did a lot to trick the eye. Because of the bulk of the coat, anyone who saw her thought that she was much thinner than she was.

I knew from experience that beneath that coat she was at least as round as she appeared while wearing it. Though short, she was far from petite. Under that coat were two breasts that were larger than her head by a huge margin. Unlike a lot of bigger girls, she also had a really nice rounded butt too. Her soft and jiggly tummy might have turned some guys off, but I loved to grab it while I fucked her from behind. I also loved the feeling of being nearly crushed between those plump thighs when she was close to an orgasm.

"Ev, you were supposed to stop off and pick up donuts for the kids to take to school," she said angrily. "And my schedule has changed. I'm not going to be able to pick them up this afternoon. So you're going to have to do it. I also need one of your credit cards. Mine is past the limit again." She stood there in front of me as imperiously as if she'd been born a queen or at least elected president.

There were several things that I wanted to say, but I didn't. As usual I just reached into my wallet and gave her my card.

Anger flashed through me. "But..." I stopped almost immediately. I swallowed my words and they didn't taste good.

"Were you about to say something?" she asked. The beauty of her face twisted in her anger. "What were you going to say? I know you aren't going to say anything about me having a life or a few friends. There is no reason why you get to go out almost every day while I have to be cooped up in that house. Even your kids get to go out and go to school with their God damned money grubbing little friends." Her round frame seemed to almost vibrate as her anger grew.

I tried to calm her down but it didn't work. "I didn't say anything," I muttered.

"Fuck you, Evan Neezer," she screamed at the top volume her prodigious lungs could muster. "No I take that back ... the next time I do fuck you, Obama will be president."

"Obama is already president, Carol," I said, trying to salvage a chunk of my self-respect. Our argument had grown in volume until everyone in the office could hear us, or at least hear her.

"I'm talking about Sasha Obama," she sneered. "You treat me like some kind of slave. I'm only there to have your babies and take care of the house. Am I supposed to be your live-in sex slave and maid? I deserve to have a life, Evan. Fuck you, I want a divorce!"

That was her trump card. Whenever we were really angry, she always threatened me with a divorce. The problem was that I loved her fat ass. I loved her so much that I couldn't see life without her. I also couldn't abide being separated from my kids.

"Calm down, Carol," I said. "Go on out and do whatever you were going to do with your friends. I'll pick up the kids."

"And stop off and get them something for dinner, so I don't have to cook," she said, as she turned for the door and placed an expensive pair of designer sunglasses on her nose.

As Carol left the building, I could see some of the sales guys covering their faces or putting their heads down to disguise the fact that they were laughing at me. From the back of the room I even heard a few snickers that some of the braver ones didn't bother to try to cover up. One of them, Greg Jenkins didn't even bother to try to hide the contempt in his voice. "He can't order that fat bitch around at home so he makes up for it by ordering us around here," he said.

I looked across the office as I heard a snapping sound and then the sound of water. I saw Iris. Her face was twisted in anger clutching the pieces of her plastic water glass. She had crushed the glass in her tiny hand and the water had spilled all over her desk.

I've always heard that redheads can have a temper, but in the five years that I've known Iris, this was the first time that I'd ever seen her lose it. She stormed into my office and slammed the door behind her, before she erupted.

"That fat bitch isn't going to divorce you. She's far too smart for that. She knows that no one else on earth would want her. I'm tired of her treating you like..." She paused and looked up at me. "Sorry Evan," she said calmly. "I just lost it for a moment. It won't happen again. Please don't fire me. I love my job."

"Iris, I'd never fire you, for any reason," I said.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, smiling. I just nodded.

"Iris, I need to get out of here for a bit," I said. "I need to calm down. If I'm not back by two thirty could you pick my kids up for me?"

"Me?" She asked smiling again. "Of course, I love your kids." She acted as if picking my kids up was some kind of honor and not just another task.

I gripped her shoulder affectionately, then grabbed my keys and headed for the door. On the way out I avoided eye contact with the men in the office. After leaving the office I wound my way through the shop floor and around several of the manufacturing cells. A few of my long time employees waved at me. I waved back, from force of habit, while trying to keep my anger from showing until I was clear of the building.

I walked calmly over to my Jeep Grand Cherokee and opened the door. I started the engine and turned up the volume on the stereo. My normal sports talk radio wasn't what I needed to hear. The smug tones of Mike Valente crowing about Michigan State University's absolute Jail sex ass kicking of Ohio State wouldn't help to calm me down. I switched over to my music collection and selected a calming song by Gordon Lightfoot.

As I pulled out of the parking lot and just drove, I had no destination in mind. I just needed to get away from people. I was on I-75 heading North, when I noticed a nearly blinding flash coming up from behind me. I recognized the front clip and headlight pattern, the way most people could recognize one of their kids. It was a Mustang GT and it was moving really damn quick.

Whoever the driver was, he had more balls than I did. Not only had my own mustang been put away for the winter for over a month, but I would never even dreamed of driving the car that fast on icy roads. I suspected that much sooner than later, the guy would end up off the road and in a ditch. The pony car had simply too much power to do much more than spin the rear wheels and skid in this mess. That was why I drove my Jeep during the winter. Traction control can only do so much.

The guy flew by me as if I was standing still. I didn't look at him as he tore past me. He was going too fast. Besides that I had to keep my eyes on the road. Even with four wheel drive, Michigan roads can be treacherous in winter. Black ice lurks under every inch of hard packed snow and before you know it you can be spinning out of control in the midst of bumper to bumper traffic. Every asshole on the road seems to think that he has the car control of Jimmy Johnson, while no one else can drive worth half a God damn.

Almost as if I was a psychic, my prediction came true. The idiot driving that beautiful yellow Mustang fish tailed wildly as the over powered rear wheels started to spin in the snowy muck. Adrenaline flooded my system as I tried to react quickly enough to save myself. I jerked the wheel to the side to avoid plowing into the rapidly spinning Pony car and ended up off of the road myself. There was a flashing light, almost as if my head had struck something, but I don't remember the airbag deploying.

"Shit," I thought. Leave it to Chrysler to fuck up the one good car they make. Now even the Jeeps were unreliable. I couldn't believe my airbag had failed.


From time to time, men need to be put in their place. My mini argument with my husband couldn't have gone any better. The whole thing had been planned. I've heard it said that the best defense is a good offense. My daddy used to tell me that all the time. So if I wanted to go out and do something and I didn't want to worry about Ev calling home and wondering where I was, the best thing to do was to simply tell him that I was going out. And by getting upset about it, and starting an argument, Ev would just leave me alone about it and never bother me about it or bring it up again.

Of course, I'd lied to him about where I was going and what I would be doing but he didn't need to know that. I got back in my car and drove away from Ev's warehouse. I picked my phone out of my purse and called a familiar number. I actually knew the number by heart. I didn't store it in my phone's memory, just in case Ev ever checked my phone.

"I'll be there soon," I said. Then I hung up. Twenty minutes later, I got out of the car and went inside of one of the largest hotels on the river front. There was no need for me to check the room number. I again pulled out my cell phone and checked a text I'd received about an hour before. I went up to room 2112.

I took the elevator up to the twenty first floor of the high rise hotel. I looked around at the other people on the elevator and smiled at a couple of guys who were staring at me. When I got off of the elevator, I knew the way to the room. I'd been here many times before. I knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. A man who at thirty years old was more than ten years younger than I am, opened it and dragged me inside.

Before I even realized what was happening to me he had planted his mouth on mine and was trying his best to suck my soul out of my body. His hands raked my expensive fur feverishly, trying to get it off. One by one, he undid the buttons, never ceasing his kisses. I was over whelmed.

A few seconds later, my three thousand dollar fur coat was thrown into a corner on the floor as if it was worthless. Then he started on my blouse. The buttons were much smaller and required a defter touch to manipulate. He whimpered in frustration and looked into my eyes.

I had trained him well. He had once torn off one of my favorite silk blouses in his desperation to get me naked. I'd been so angry that I had screamed at him and then left. So now he looked into my eyes, waiting. I undid the buttons myself and before I could give him the nod, his need took over. He grabbed my breasts as if he was drowning and they were the only life preservers available.

His hands were rough and he mauled my huge udders as if they were squeezie toys. The exciting thing was that even if they were squeezie toys, they didn't belong to him. The illicit nature of what we were about to do made it all more exciting. He started to kiss the nape of my neck and my nipples sprang forward like a stack of dimes. They grew longer and harder as his rough fingers approached them.

Once he got to them he began to roll and twist them. His manipulations were on the borderline between pleasure and pain. He suddenly hefted both of my breasts and raised them to his face. He began to alternate between them licking and sucking them both. A fire grew in intensity between my legs.

"My titties," he moaned. "All mine. You haven't been letting that asshole play with them have you?"

"No," I lied. "Let's get naked Billy."

"You've got me too hot for that baby," he gushed. Then he pulled my skirt up and snatched my tiny panties to the side. He rubbed my already engorged labia and forced one of his thick fingers inside of me.

Even as he probed my innards, he pushed me back towards the large, overstuffed hotel bed. As the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed I fell over backwards landing on the soft bed, a pushover in every sense of the word. As my back hit the bed my legs spread of their own volition.

He pulled his pants down, releasing his rampant member and forced it into me in one stroke. Months of practice gave him the experience to know what he could and couldn't do with me. My body's dimensions and the fact that I had already borne two children made accepting his girth and length in one shot not only palatable but pleasurable. If anything, he had to be rougher with me to make sure I felt anything. My husband was actually more endowed than Billy.

Try as I might, I couldn't, even at a time like this, banish Evan from my mind. I hated Evan as much as I loved him. Growing up, I was always in my brother's shadow. Phil was the smart one. Phil was the handsome one. My parents always talked about how Phil would grow up to do great things. I was only the little fat girl in his shadow.

As I entered my teens, my bright, shining brother entered a Military academy. He didn't want to go to war and luckily enough it was peacetime. But the academy offered an education that would rival all of the finest universities in the country. They also offered an alumni network that threaded its way through most of the biggest corporations and most powerful industries worldwide. Graduation from the Military academy would have guaranteed my brother's future.

Unfortunately, the unexpected robbed the world and my parents of the man that Phil could have become. He was killed in a peacetime training exercise. Phil was taking part in a self defense class when he was struck in the jaw. It wasn't a very hard blow. It didn't have to be.

Phil had very fragile mandibular condyles. Basically he had a very fragile glass jaw. The punch dislocated his jaw and the resulting pain, cause him to lose his balance and strike his head on the edge of a nearby bench. He died immediately. The shining star of my parents' universe, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. They never recovered.

The fact that they had a daughter who still needed them somehow failed to pierce their sadness. I grew to adulthood in a house where three people lived, that bore no resemblance to the home that once housed a family.

I'm not even sure my parents ever knew or cared about the hell I went through growing up. I was always a heavier girl. But my breasts developed very early and never seemed to stop growing. The kids, especially during my teen years found me more an object of ridicule than someone to consider dating. I had more boys laughing at me and sneaking feels on my boobs than I ever had friends. I was also the subject of every fat joke known to man.

After high school, I got a series of dead end jobs. I didn't actually have sex until I was twenty two. Even then it was a much older man who had a breast fetish. I don't think he even knew what my face looked like. All he cared about was the two huge mounds of flesh on my chest. I endured that existence, still living in my parents' home.

By the time I was twenty four, I'd had never been in any kind of relationship. I'd been fucked a few times and didn't think that sex was anything special. Most of the men who wanted me, just wanted my tits. Some of them never even got their dicks inside of me before they shot their semen all over my tits.

Then Evan came along. He had just started his business. He had only one or two employees and he was renting space in the back of someone else's shop. But he had a look in his eyes that told me he would do great things. I was waitressing in a greasy spoon near where he rented his space. The first time he came in it was only because the restaurant he usually ate in was full.

After that he kept coming back. I was sure it wasn't the food. I also knew that he liked me. From the start, I figured that although younger and less creepy than the guys I was used to, that his biggest attraction was for my tits. He seemed to be taking his time though. Then he started screwing with my head. He seemed to be summoning his courage. I was used to that. I knew that his next move would be to ask if he could drive me home. Once he got me in the car, he'd size me up and then make his move towards the promised land or the promised mountains. Imagine my surprise when he asked me out instead.

"Where were you planning on taking me?" I asked. I didn't want him to know that it was my first date. I figured that it would be someplace like a movie theater. That way he could feel me up in the dark.

"I know a really great restaurant on the east side near the river," he said. "But if you want go someplace else... ?"

Shock wasn't a strong enough word. Then I noticed it. My blouse had the first four buttons open. I was showing more cleavage than a porn star and he was looking at my eyes.

"Evan, I'll go anywhere you want to go, anytime you want me to go there," I said. From that moment on I was Evan's property and he took very good care of me. I fell in love with the way that Evan made me feel. Where a lot of other guys looked at me and saw a fat girl with a pair of huge titties ... some of them didn't give me that much credit. Some of them just saw a walking pair of tits. I wasn't sure they even knew I was connected to them. But Evan saw me. He often told me how beautiful I was and we weren't even having sex then.

I began to feel a touch of apprehension about what it would be like when we did have sex. Would he still see me as beautiful? Or would he see that I was just another fat girl and fall out of love with me. He was like a drug to me. I saw him as much as I could and I could refuse him nothing. His kisses were like the sweetest wine imaginable and his touch set me afire.

When it finally happened, it was a life changing event. Evan made love to my whole body. He licked and sucked every inch of flesh from my toes to my head. He spent as much time playing with my ass and my belly as he did my tits. And my tits loved him. He was so gentle with them. He took his time and lit me up. After all of the men I'd been with, Evan was the first and only one who actually got down between my thighs and licked my pussy. There are some things that most men just don't do to bigger girls. At least with me, Evan had no such stipulations. By the time he was ready to fuck me, I was begging for it. He had me so worked up that I came after only two or three strokes. But he kept going. I almost lost my mind that night. I had lost my heart weeks before.

I didn't think that things between us could ever get any better. My idea of the perfect evening was for Evan to pick me up after work and take me to his apartment and fuck me until we were both spent. Evan, of course, had other ideas. He kept taking me out to shows and restaurants and walks and other things. He wasn't ashamed of me. It was as if he was proud of me.

Then he sent my whole world into a tizzy. Evan took me to his apartment one evening. He sat me down and my pussy started dripping. I spread my legs and leaned back. Evan loved to just massage and caress my body before he even took my clothes off. I was so turned on that my nipples showed through my bra and a sweater, but I really had no idea what was about to happen.

He got down on his knees and I closed my eyes in anticipation of the pleasure to come. I waited for a few seconds thinking that he was teasing me. When nothing had happened in a few moments I opened one eye and went into shock. Evan was on one knee in front of me holding out the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. I was speechless.

"Carol, are you going to give me an answer, or do you need time to think about it?" he asked. In an instant my life changed. Until that evening, I had kept Evan a secret. Only the women I worked with knew about him. None of my family or friends outside of work knew anything about him. That way if things hadn't worked out, no one would have been able to laugh at me or look down on me. I hated the "poor fat girl," looks the most.

I took Evan home and introduced him to my parents that evening. The following morning, I started moving my things into Evan's apartment.

I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. Another benefit that I never saw coming was that my parents were suddenly interested in me. They never had been before. I felt as if I was surrounded by love for the first time in my life. After we were married we visited my parents often. When my children were born we drew into an even closer bond with them. It took a Christmas for me to notice the nightmare, I was living.

My parents had given Evan some very expensive fishing equipment. My dad was also giving Evan a trip to go fishing in the Florida Keys. There were tons of toys for the babies as well. They gave ME, things for the kids. They didn't give me a single personal gift. I realized then that my parents didn't give a fuck about me. I was surprised that they even knew my fucking name. Their only interest in me was that I brought them Evan.

Evan was like some sort of replacement in their hearts for my brother. They also loved their grand kids. I on the other hand was just there to take care of Evan and the kids. My own parents overlooked me at every turn.

It took some time, but eventually I began to hate my parents. I also began to resent Evan and even my kids to some extent. I wondered exactly what the fuck was wrong with me. Why couldn't the people who gave me life, see me as being special and important too?

I don't know exactly when I decided to punish Evan, but for the past year I've been letting Billy fuck me. I see Billy at least a couple of times a week, and every time, it feels as if I'm striking back at Evan and my parents.

I guess I'm punishing my parents for never treating me the way they treated my brother; or the way they treat Evan and my kids now. And I'm punishing Evan, for taking my parents attention away from me.

As I come back to reality and out of my thoughts Billy is pulling his dick out of me and shooting his semen over my chest and belly. He is sweating heavily and breathing equally hard. He lies down on the bed next to me. We settle in and take a nap. Before I leave the hotel, I leave him some money. Billy doesn't have a job, so he needs my help. Giving him money is the least I can do for him. Billy loves ME, not my parents and not my kids. Billy is all mine.


It was the tapping on the windshield that woke me up. There was a guy looking in my Jeep. My head felt really strange. I looked around and noticed that my jeep was wrecked. I had gone off the road. I remember thinking that my fucking airbag hadn't I was clearly wrong as the remains of the airbag were blown out of my steering column. I looked at the guy tapping on the window and tried to open the door. He pulled the door open and started talking to me.

"Are you alright, Evan?" he asked. He seemed to be concerned with my well being. He probably just didn't want me to sue him for running me off of the fucking road.

I tentatively moved my upper extremities and then my lower limbs. I tried to step down out of the ruined jeep and found that I could. In my mind that seemed to indicate that physically I was fine. At least there were no major injuries that I could detect.

"You're fine, Evan," he said. For some reason I believed him. Then the anger that I had come out to try to dissipate came back. When you factored in the fact that this bastard had wrecked my car, my anger was justified.

"How the fuck would you know whether or not I'm fine?" I screamed suddenly. "Are you a doctor, or do you play one on TV?" He looked amused. There was no fear in him at all. As I looked at him, not knowing exactly what he expected of me, he seemed to be almost overly calm. Even as I glared at him, the idling motor of his nearby Mustang revved.

"Uhm, Evan, you need to calm down," he said glancing over at the Yellow Mustang.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked. "Can I see your insurance information and ID?"

"I'm Tim Matthews," he smiled. "Your car is fine. You don't need to involve the insurance agencies."

"Oh shit," I said. "You don't have any fucking insurance, do you?"

"We don't need no stinking insurance," he laughed. "Your car is fine. Let's get started."

He gently grabbed my arm and started leading me towards his Mustang. The car, in an almost eerie vibe that felt more like Halloween than Christmas, revved its engine again as we approached. A light snow had begun to fall, but strangely enough, none of the snow seemed to land on the car. Each and every gleaming body panel seemed to be dry and untouched by the moisture and snow. It seemed kind of weird to me that the car would be sitting there dry and gleaming while snow fell all around us.

I looked at the driver again. "Uh, Tim, where are we going?" I asked.

"I'm doing a favor for a friend," he said. "I have to show you something. Come on we don't have much time. Chrissie won't hurt ya."

For some reason I just didn't feel like arguing. He really seemed to be trustworthy. It was his car that frightened me. Nevertheless I got into the car. I sank down into the rich thick leather.

"Tim, maybe you should slow down a bit," I said. He just laughed. He released the parking brake and gave the motor some gas. The car shot forward faster than anything I had ever felt. Even on the snowy and slushy road surface, the tires seemed to bite and propelled the car forward as sure footed as a mountain goat. I looked at the speedometer and noticed that we were passing cars like they were standing still. One hundred miles an hour in sleet seemed foolish. One hundred and fifty had me assured that we wouldn't survive the ride. As we shot past two hundred miles an hour, with traffic just a blur outside of our windows, Tim reached over casually and hit his stereo. The song sounded really cheery with bells ringing and an old man talking.

When they reached the chorus of the song I realized that Tim was out of his fucking mind. The song was called "You ain't getting shit for Christmas," and Tom laughed maniacally every time the chorus came on.

As soon as the song ended Tim stopped the car and we got out. I recognized the place as being my old apartment building.

"I used to live here," I said. Tim just smiled at me and said, "Duh."

I followed him into the building, thinking that maybe we were there to call the police to report the accident. He grabbed my hand and we stepped right through the fucking wall. It was really disconcerting. It scared the shit out of me.

When I got my bearings back and my mind started to function at a level that somewhat resembled normal, I noticed that we had stepped directly into an apartment. We were watching two people on a couch. The woman was lying on her side in front of the man on a sofa. As they watched television, she pumped her large ass against his lower abdomen. He reached around and gently reached under her sweater freeing an incredibly large breast. From the second that she moaned, an alarm went off in my head. She looked familiar, but her hair threw me off track. Then I remembered. For the last five years Carol had been cutting her hair short. I was watching myself fucking my wife before we were married.

"God damn, those are huge titties!" yelled Tim.

"That's my wife, asshole ... Hey wait a minute! How the hell are you doing this? What are we doing here?" I asked.

"My friend wanted you to see this," he said calmly. He was craning his neck to see Iris' boobs.

"Who the hell is your friend and why does he want us to watch me with my wife?" I asked.

"My friend calls himself the ghost of Christmas past," said Tim. "And I think you're supposed to be learning something by watching this. Holy shit those things are epic!"

"Will ya stop gawking at my wife's hooters?" I snapped. "Wait ... did you say the ghost of Christmas past?"

"Yep," he said. "Relax, they can't see or hear us. So she's never going to know I saw her sweater melons."

"Yeah, but I'll know. And this is my wife you're ogling," I said. Even as we spoke the couple on the sofa forgot about the television and began to concentrate on each other in earnest. The younger version of Iris spread her legs and pulled me on top of her. God, she was beautiful back then. Looking at her face I saw nothing but love in her eyes. This was before she became such a spoiled bitch. I wondered what had happened to change her. Was it me? Had I in fact done something to her to cause such a dramatic change in attitude?

"It wasn't you, Bubba," said Tim as if he could read my mind. "Quick quiz ... what are we looking at?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come on Evan. Get with the program. This is two crazy kids in love right?" He just looked at me. "Nod your head if you're still with me."

I nodded my head and he shook his as if he really didn't believe me. "Chrissie!" he screamed, and suddenly we were back outside standing in front of his yellow Mustang. We got into the car and before I could close my seat belt he was driving again. Trees, houses, people and cars streamed past the window at an alarming rate. We passed a cop car so quickly that I don't think the officers even saw us. The strangest thing about it was that for a while during the drive, the temperature warmed up and the sun came out. Then even as I watched the leaves on the trees changed colors and suddenly it was winter again. We parked in my driveway, but the house looked different. The privacy fence that we'd put up a few years ago was gone. And looking in the back yard, I didn't see the pool or the deck. It was strange.

I looked over at him to ask a question, but he was already outside of the car. "Hurry up dude, we're on the clock," he said. I got out of the car and I was confused. What the hell were we looking for? He grabbed my arm and stepped through the wall. I was ready for his Kitty Pryde routine this time though. We stepped into a scene that had to have been three or four years ago. My family was complete but the kids were probably only about five and six years old.

It was obviously Christmas morning. I was beginning to see something. The first place we'd visited had been a Christmas too. Iris and I had just gotten together. That had been our first Christmas together. Back then we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. The scene we watched now was years later. We had money and we spent it on our kids. But Carol and I were still crazy about each other. As I watched the scene, I noticed something. I stepped into the scene only inches away from Iris and looked closely at her face. Her face was different. I couldn't exactly pin down what the difference was but it was there. Her face was harder. Perhaps it was the passing of the years or the problems we'd overcome in getting to where we were.

I looked over at Tim. "Well your head is partially out of your ass," he smirked. "But you're still not seeing it. At least you've noticed something though, so there may still be some hope for you."

I walked into the kitchen. I looked on the refrigerator at the calendar. It was Christmas of 2009. It was four years ago.

"Can I have some kind of clue?" I asked. "Am I looking at Carol or at me?"

"Evan, think about what you were just looking at. You think that the difference in your wife is all of the shit you've gone through, right? That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard. Your wife doesn't do shit. You're the one who goes out and works. Where is she going to run into problems? Maybe she had a heart attack between the refrigerator and the couch?"

"What do you have against big women?" I asked. "All women are beautiful in their own way. Different men like different types of women. We don't all fit into the same box!"

"Well your wife sure as hell won't fit into most of the boxes," he smirked.

"You liked her well enough when you were going gaga over her tits on that couch," I said. "So maybe you do like bigger girls, but you're just ashamed of it. I think you're a closet chubby chaser."

"I think you're a closet idiot," he said angrily. "I have no problem with bigger girls. What I have a problem with is skanky, cheating whores who..." He clapped a hand over his mouth as if he'd said too much.

"Are you trying to tell me that... ?" I began. He grabbed my arm and stepped back through the wall. "Tim, now that you've started this you have to..."

"My time is up, Bud," he said. "See ya!" He jumped into that yellow Mustang and revved the engine. I jumped in front of the car, sure that he wouldn't run me over. He revved that monstrous engine a couple of times. I stepped back involuntarily. My belief that he wouldn't run me over was fading quickly. I could see the headlines in the local papers. "Business man and father, run down three days before Christmas. He leaves behind..."

Suddenly I stopped. Just what would I be leaving behind? The car lurched forward and drove off down the road almost too quickly to be seen. The car had passed directly through me. "See you later," yelled Tim, leaving me no doubt that the two of us would meet again.

I stood there, in the middle of the street, in front of my house. But it was my house four years ago. I watched as my wife and I walked out of the house with our kids and got into my old car and drove away. I passed within inches of myself. All kinds of weird things went through my mind. I couldn't help thinking about the theory from all of the sci-fi movies I've seen, that two instances of the same person can't exist in the same time and place without destroying the fabric of the space time continuum.

"Oh my God you don't really believe that do you?" asked a voice from behind me. I whipped around to see the person who'd said it.

It was a woman. She took my breath away. She was very short, but also very beautiful. She had an olive complexion and long, thick, wavy black hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Her dark eyes appeared to be laughing as she looked at me, but her overall expression was one of pain and sadness. The contrast between the two extremes only added to her beauty and to the sense of mystery about her.

Unlike my wife this woman was nearly flat-chested. But somehow, even to me, it just didn't seem to matter. Her full lips and her porn star-like ass captivated my attention.

Against my conscious will, my dick sprang to life. She looked at me and it was as if she too could tell what I was thinking.

"A few years ago, I would have let you..." she said sadly. Her voice sounded like cigarettes and too many nights spent doing really nasty things. " ... and once you got a taste, you'd have been hooked. I'd have had you scratching my itch every time I felt like it and sometimes when I didn't. But that's what sentenced me to the hell I'm in right now. I'm trying my ass off to be the kind of woman..." She sighed deeply and paused. The look in her eyes filled with pain again.

"Besides, even if I gave you some right here, right now, we'd both regret it almost as soon as we were finished. I know YOU would. You're too much like Tim not to," she said.

"You're Tim's wife?" I asked. "You're the Chrissie, he yelled for?"

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