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I left work early on the Friday before Christmas, early enough to avoid most of the traffic of people who also left early this day before the holiday. About halfway home my cell phone rang so I carefully opened the center console beside my seat, pulled out the phone and peeked at the caller id. I was a bit worried that it might be someone from work needing me to return to the office, but it was my wife.
“Hello, I’m on my way home now,” I answered.
“Hi honey, could you stop by the store and pick up a few things?”
“Sure, what do you need?”
“Could you grab a couple of pie crusts and some pumpkin pie filling?”
“Pie filling? I thought you were going to do the pie from scratch this year.”
“Well, I just got to thinking, with the kids away this year, why go to all the trouble?”
“But you said that with them gone, you had the time to do the pies from scratch. That’s why I left early, to come help,” I said.
“Well I decided the pumpkins made too nice of a display on the front porch, besides, I had another idea.”
“And what is your other idea?”
“I think I want to keep it a secret now, just stop by the store and get the pie crusts and filling, I should have everything else here.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“Love you too, see you soon,” she said and then hung up the phone.
I carefully returned the phone to its case and closed the console, reminding myself to catch the correct exit for the grocery store. Wondering about my wife’s little secret, I drove to the grocery store, picked up her pie ingredients and headed home.
Stephanie, my wife, met me at the back door wearing a festive cooking apron with a large Christmas tree on it, looking for the pie filling. I handed her the can and she said, “Good, I had all the other filling ingredients in the mixing bowl.”
She turned and walked over to the can opener when I noticed her tight, bare ass and suddenly it hit me what her surprise was. I quickly undressed and by the time she was emptying the pie filling into the mixing bowl, I stood behind her with my erection pressed tight against her ass.
“Oh, you figured out my surprise did you?”
Lifting her curly red hair, I kissed her neck and mumbled, “Oh yes.”
“I figured we could make, making Christmas dinner really special this year.”
“It’s been a long time since we had Christmas by ourselves,” I replied, untying the knot on her apron.
Turning, she pulled the apron over her head, but instead of tossing it aside, she looped it over my head and used it to pull me as she backed up across the kitchen. My hands cupped her large breasts and gently squeezed as I slowly followed her to the kitchen table.
“Do you think it will hold our weight?”
“Hell, this old table would hold our car,” I answered, reaching to her waist and lifting her onto the table, pushing aside the measuring cup she had carried with her.
She scooted back onto the table and I gingerly followed her, crawling up between her legs. Reaching down, she grabbed me and immediately guided me into her. She moaned as my cock slid easily into her wet opening.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“You’re so wet,” I whispered.
“Yes,” she gasped, raising her hips up to meet my thrusts.
I slowed down my movement, to slow her down a bit, draw it out, but she wrapped her legs around me and pulled her feet against my ass. Following her lead, I quickened the pace, as her feet continued to pull me into her.
In just moments, she rested her head on the table, arched her back and grabbed my arms tightly as she came. Seeing her writhe beneath me, on the kitchen table, quickly drove me over the edge and I pushed deep, getting closer and closer. Pulling back, she moved away from me and my cock slipped out of her pussy.
Before I could move to get myself reinserted, she reached her hands down, grabbing me and stroking wildly. I came, but instead of seeing my cum shoot across her stomach, I noticed she held the measuring cup so it caught my jism as it spurted from me. She continued stroking, finally slowly milking the last of my cum into the cup.
Kissing me on the mouth, she carefully slid out from under me, dumped my final ingredient into the pie filling mixture and turned on the mixer. After a few minutes, she poured the mixture into one of the pie crusts and slipped it all in the oven.
“Should be ready in about an hour,” she said with a mischievous smile on her face.
I’ve never tried her pumpkin pie cooked from scratch, but I must admit, the pie we shared the next day was the best I have ever tasted. And when my wife’s pain in the ass sister stopped by after dinner and just wouldn’t leave until she had a taste of my wife’s “made from scratch” pie, we both didn’t have the heart to tell her, it was simply from a pie filling.
“And I just have to get the recipe from you,” her sister said, gobbling up her second piece of pie. “It’s so good I don’t even need any whipped cream.”
I was about to reply, but my wife’s glare kept me quiet. “I’ll email it to you later,” she replied, as her sister reached to cut another piece.
Yes, this was quite a nice Christmas surprise.