A Rose for Christmas

Paul did not have long to savor his first look at Rose's unadorned body before she pulled him into their first nude embrace. It was fierce and warm and accompanied by more kissing, after which she pulled back and whispered, "I want you now," again. She reached for his cock and tried to guide him in, but Paul had a few more ideas first.

"Soon," he whispered. Before Rose could protest, he dove down between her thighs and began rubbing and kissing them. He could smell her feminine perfume and feel the dampness on her thighs, but as earlier he was careful to avoid going straight for the treasure. He did rub hard on her inner thighs, and Rose wiggled them and sighed approvingly, but she also let slip with another I-want-you-now between gasps.

Figuring it would be mean to tease her quite so much this time, Paul reached into Rose's pubes and ran his fingers through them while working his lips further up her thighs. Rose spread her legs further in anticipation, and Paul slipped his thumb just inside. Rose barely had time for a yelp of joy before he pulled it back out, or a groan of pleasant frustration before he reached in again. Her vagina was wonderfully warm and inviting and he longed to reach in further, but that could wait.

"Oh God, Paul, so help me, if you don't put something in there pretty soon..."

Before she could finish, Paul dove in and reached his tongue as far inside as it could go, drawing shakes and a screech of elation from Rose. He then drew his tongue up further and flitted it over her hard clit, drawing even louder howls. Licking harder now, he reached one finger inside. Rose's moaning was reaching a fever pitch and Paul was almost afraid of how loud she would get with two fingers, but he resolved to find out anyway.

Good thing we didn't wait until the neighbors were probably in bed, he thought as Rose responded to his second finger and his increased sucking. Remembering not to push too deep inside, he rubbed in tiny circles with both fingers just inside her while licking her clit as hard as he thought she could stand. The angle made his neck sore, but it would be well worth it for her reaction, he was sure. He could feel the sheets shift as Rose grabbed at them. She was close. If she took much longer to come, his neck would really be hurting...with that thought, he kissed and rubbed harder and faster than ever.

Paul had been with a screamer or two in his time, but he'd never heard anyone screech quite as loud as Rose did. "Oh my God!! Gimme that, Paul, make me feel it!!" Still fingering her, he looked up to see her grabbing bunches of the sheets in both hands and grinding her head back into the pillow as she came.

"Thank you!" she managed to say once she'd caught her breath. Her body went limp as the orgasm subsided and she pulled his shoulders upward, beckoning him upwards. Paul tried to get up to wash her juices off his face, but she pulled him down and kissed him on the mouth. "Mmm, I taste wonderful, don't I?" she snickered.

"Yeah." It was all Paul had a chance to say before she rolled him over on his back and climbed atop him. Looking elated but not satiated, she grabbed at his cock firmly with both hands and, with all the delicious frustration his slow foreplay had built up for her, slid it effortlessly inside at last, as deep as she could reach it. "Whooooooaaaaaaaah," Paul exhaled loudly as he felt her soft pink vaginal walls envelop him fully for the first time. He had often wondered if sex felt different with a woman who'd had a baby; now he found it wasn't as different as he'd expected. If a bit less tight, she seemed more toned than what he was accustomed to, and he could feel her clamping down again and again on him as she rocked joyfully back and forth. Taking both his hands in hers, she rocked hard and ground into him again and again.

For the first few minutes, Paul's eyes were closed for savoring the wonderful intense sensation, but he wanted another look at her body. He opened his eyes to see her beaming at him while her breasts jostled every which way. She was still grunting. "Gonna come for me, Paul? I'm gonna come again. Come with me!"

Squeezing her hands tightly and looking into her eyes, he did. While they were both still in the throes of orgasm, she threw herself down at him and clung tightly, and he returned the embrace. The climax seemed to hang on for minutes, and judging from Rose's lusty yells, she was feeling the same. When at last the sensation died down, wordlessly she rolled over beside him and snuggled up to him, one arm thrown around his chest.

Paul was deliriously happy, until he heard Rose crying beside him. He snapped out of his reverie and propped himself up on one elbow. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing, that's just it," Rose sniffled. "I haven't really made love, for real, in so long. So beautiful."

Paul wanted to say "I love you," but he feared that would make matters worse. Instead he said "Merry Christmas, darling," and kissed her chastely on the cheek. She returned the well-wishing and snuggled up closer by his side. Soon they were both fast asleep.

Paul had been sleeping heavily lately, making up for the many sleepless nights he had endured in recent weeks. So he was disappointed, but not surprised, when he woke up late the next morning to find Rose had dressed and left. For a moment he struggled not to cry, reminding himself again and again that he'd known it would be fleeting as he sat up, disbelieving, alone in his bed -- their bed. 'I promised I would never love anyone again,' he reminded himself. 'Now we remember why.' Back to the slopes, he vowed, and then back to trading up a fortune -- somewhere.

As he showered and dressed, Paul was already wondering what he might say to her if he saw her again. He found no good answer. No good could come of dwelling on that just then. Whatever happened next, he reminded himself, they both now had a wonderful memory. Recalling what he had said about being glad he hadn't slept with Serène, he was relieved to find he didn't regret having slept with Rose. He had touched her just as she had touched him, at least. It was three days yet to Christmas, and Paul was there to enjoy the whole week. And enjoy it he did. Contenting himself with the one wonderful memory and a vague hope for the future, he was at peace with it all as the big day approached. Paul had all the closure he needed.

He told himself again and again that he needed no further closure; but on Christmas Eve he got it anyway. Arriving back from the slopes, he opened his room door to find a large manila envelope before him on the floor. He opened it to find a picture -- a full-color picture of Rose curled up on a hotel bed just like his. She was smiling straight into the camera, wearing a red Santa Claus cap and nothing else. Scrawled across the image of her lovely body in red pen was a message: "Dearest Paul, thank you for teaching me once again how real love feels. This need not be the end! Write me in January and let's talk of the future. Love always, Rose".

Paul turned the photo over. To his relief and joy, Rose had written her e-mail address in the same red ink.

Paul enjoyed his two more days at the resort more than ever, but it was no longer all fun and games. He was now busy making plans to move to England and look into working there, and thinking of just the right words to say in the first e-mail he would send to Rose, when he got home. Going home no longer scared him.

On his last afternoon at the resort, he'd had enough of skiing and spent the afternoon at the hotel pool. While there, he met an American couple with a young daughter who was still quite high on the just-passed holiday. "I was so scared of coming here for Christmas!" she told Paul while they were playing in the pool along with her father. "I thought Santa Claus would never find us here. Then my cousin told me Santa Claus isn't even real! But now I know Santa Claus is real! Do you believe in Santa Claus, Paul?"

"I sure do," Paul said. "This year she gave me back my love for life."