Santa, Jesus, Rachel & Me

I kiss her again and now her arms go around me and she opens her mouth to me. Her tongue comes out and licks mine; her teeth nip at my lips. Without thinking about it my hand goes to her breast, as if it remembers the way. I push her robe out of the way and feel her warmth and softness in my hand and yet my touch makes her hesitate for a moment.

"Let's go into the bedroom," she says softly.

I wait while she gets up and turns off the TV and the lamp. She stands in the dark room looking at the Christmas tree with the presents around it. The blinking lights make the shadows flicker on her face, Those little Christmas tree lights are always so pretty and somehow so sad and forlorn.

In the bedroom Rachel's shy at first. She closes the door and I take her in my arms. She puts her arms around my neck and stretches her body up against me, but as I kiss her and press her against me she suddenly becomes terribly aroused, and her lips work against mine with a thrilling hunger. She has to break the kiss to gasp for air. She'd trembling in my arms.

"Wait," she says, and she goes and locks the bedroom door. She turns her clock radio on to cover the sounds, and Christmas carols come out. Then she bends down and plugs something in behind the nightstand, and strings of Christmas lights light up on her headboard.

"For me?" I ask

She smiles and turns out the overhead light. "Of course," she says, "I knew you'd be coming, a man I haven't seen in so many years."

She's teasing, but when I take her in my arms again there's nothing teasing about the way she responds. She's almost shuddering with desire, and her mouth captures mine with wild desire, biting me, licking me as she presses her body against me.

"God, it's been so long," she whispers. "You don't know how good you feel."

I can imagine how long it's been. It can't be easy for a woman who works full time and raises two kids to find time to see to her own needs. All that need comes out on me now, and I feel a woman's full hunger and desire. It's exquisite and it makes me dizzy. My cock is aching and my heart too.

"How long has it been?" I ask her.

"I don't know. Over a year. I just don't have time."

I push her back towards the bed and she has time to strip off her robe before she falls back on the covers. She's wearing a black night gown. She's wearing seamed stockings and stiletto heels. She's wearing a black leather teddy with chains and buckles and cut outs for her breasts. She's wearing whatever I want her to wear.

I sink down on top of her and she presses up against me. Every place I touch her it's like an electric shock and she pulls away and then pushes back, demanding more. I can feel her body jerk as if she's hyper-sensitive, and she is. I move my hand between her legs but she grabs my wrist.

"No, I don't think I could stand that. I want you so much."

I want her too. All the things I meant to say to her and never did, all the things I'd thought of over the years, questions, explanations, apologies, reminiscences--even the things I wanted to say to her as I walked across her yard from the sleigh--I forget them all. All I can think of to say is, "I want to tie you."

Rachel gets control of herself enough to smile.

"So you're into that now?" she says, looking up at me. "Yeah, I should have known. You're the type."

She pushes me off of her, sits up, and puts her wrists together. That's all. None of this "You're nuts!" or "What do you want to do that for?" or "That's so sick!"

She just sits on the bed with her wrists together and says, "Okay, tie me. Tie me up and then fuck me. Fuck me like you really mean it."

She'd never talked to me like that before. She'd talked dirty for me, and I'd talked dirty for her, but that was just in play. This is serious, a statement of desire

I take the belt from her robe and make her put her arms behind her back. I want to tie her because I can tell she's so high-strung that she won't be able to stand it if she's not tied up; she's just too hot and needy.

As soon as I get her hands tied I kiss her, grabbing her shoulders and pressing her back so that she falls across the bed, and I follow her down, never breaking the kiss. She falls onto her back and arches her body up against me, biting my lip and growling. My hand glides over her body, feeling her through her nightgown. The fabric's warm, but slick as ice, and I can feel her muscles beneath my fingers as she writhes beneath me.

"God!" she murmurs, "Oh God that feels so good!"

I push her nightgown up, grabbing the hem and pulling and pushing until her breasts are exposed, and I start to kiss and lick them like a savage. Her skin is soft and fragrant like a rose petal, and all I can think of is her warmth compared to the cold outside, beating at the windows. It's been so long since someone touched her like this that she's beside herself, gasping and moaning. Her heat is driving me crazy.

I get up on my knees and pull off my sweater and tee-shirt. I stand up and kick off my shoes and socks while she watches me, her naked tits going up and down with her frantic breathing. On the radio Bing Crosby is singing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." Dead for years but he's alive now, and his voice is what I hear as I get on my knees on the floor and start licking Rachel's naked belly.

"No!" she moans as I drag my tongue lower, to the beckoning hollow where her leg joins her body..

"No, please!"

Her hip bone stands up like a snowy hill bathed alternately in blue and pink from the Christmas lights, and my tongue is like a lone skier as I drag it down towards the low point of her body. Her stomach flutters with nervous little anticipatory spasms as I get near the waistband of her panties. She's sweet and salty and there's something mysterious and urgent in the taste of her, some powder or perfume or just her natural fragrance, intimate and terribly female.

"No! No!" she begs, "Really, I don't think I can't stand it!"

I ignore her though. I pull her legs apart and press my face against her panties and she sobs. She's hot and musky, and as I kiss her I can feel her dampness. Her voice catches in her throat and she goes absolutely still, waiting.

I'm still on my knees on the floor, her legs on either side of my head. I can look up through her breasts and see her eyes closed, her jaw clenched tightly shut. When my tongue makes contact with the crotch of her panties, she groans, "Oh God!"

It has been a long time for her, and all the need and frustration has built up to the point where she's terribly sensitive, ready to burst. When my tongue touches her, her hips jerk up off the bed in reflex. I reach up and take her breasts in my hands and slide my tongue up along the side of her panties, between her leg and her pussy.

Something happens to Rachel then, and she becomes desperate for me. She raises up and looks down at my head working between her legs and she snarls at me, "Oh yes! Eat me! Eat me like that! That feels so good, baby!" She brings her knees up and opens them, giving me access to her pussy, then she drops her head back down and arches her back, and I can see her bound hands beneath her clawing at the bed spread.

The taste of her and the feel of her softness inflames me. I can move her soft labia around through the sheer fabric of her panties by pushing with my tongue, and when I do that she starts to fuck back at me. There's a feeling I get sometimes, a need that goes beyond the pleasure of sex to something more primal and basic; like an urge to fuse with someone, to melt into them, and yet it comes out as sexual desire and I don't even try and fight it. I lose myself in it, lose myself in her.

Over a year, she said. What a waste! What a waste of that heat and softness, the pleasure of her body. She said she didn't have time, but how can she not have time to share this? How could other men resist her? I pull her panties to the side and spread her open with my tongue, kissing her just the way I'd kiss her mouth, for the pure sensual pleasure of her flesh against my lips and mouth, her taste and wetness.

All the times I've fucked her before, all the times I've played with her, slipping my fingers into her in the back of someone's car, sneaking into her dorm room in college fuzzy with beer and making her kneel on the bed while I stood on the floor and pulled her back onto me and she bit the pillow to keep from crying out. The times when we lived together and shared a bed, the times I've held her to me as I emptied my loneliness into her body, or—forget that—pulled out of her and rose up so she could watch as I ejaculated onto her skin, her eyes bright with amazement and pleasure.

It's all one now. She's everyone to me, and I press my assault on her pussy, licking her, sucking her, growling like a bear with his tongue in a honey comb. But she's gone too long without it, and her nerves are all on edge.

"Oh God," she wails, struggling to keep her voice down, "I'm going to come! You're going to make me come!"

"Oh no!" I say, pulling away from her and licking her musk from my lips, "Oh no! Not like this! I want my cock inside you when you come. I want to make you come with my prick."

I grab the waist band of her panties and skin then down over her ass, down her legs and off. She's still wearing her night gown, but it's all bunched up under her armpits. I get on the bed and put my arm beneath her and pull her to the center like she's a rag doll. She eagerly arranges herself in the middle of the bed as best she can with her wrists tied behind her back, opening her legs. A wisp of hair has fallen into her face and she blows it out of the way and waits excitedly while I position myself between her knees.

I kiss her and her tongue pushes boldly into my mouth without reservation, and as I kiss her my hard cock is searching for her, looking for her center. She throws one leg over mine and holds me in place while she searches for me, pushing her pussy up, groaning in impatience. When the head of my cock touches her in the right place, her hips freezes and she and pulls at me with her leg, showing me that's it; that's the place, urging me to enter her. I freeze too, being mean., I want her to fuck me. I want to feel how much she wants me, but when I feel her trying to work her cunt up on my prick I lose it. I can't wait anymore and I push into her, feeling her part before me.

"Mmmmm!" She moans into my mouth with pleasure as my cock sinks into the tight, viscous clutch of her pussy. No, no one's been there for a long time, and she's virginally tight, her cunt swollen down to a tight tube with her hot arousal. She spreads open before me, I force her open, and she flowers before the hard insistence of my cock.

Now it's my turn to moan, and I reach beneath her and grab the cheeks of her ass to pull her up to me as I sink into her to my very balls, making her take all of it: hot, wet. Her cunt is trembling with eagerness as she encloses me and her legs fold over my ass. I bury my face in her hair and inhale deeply: the scent of a woman beneath me, willing, loving it as much as I am, my cock at home deep inside her body: paradise.

She's soft, glowing, and I don't know: it might be love, it might just be lust, it might be that there's no difference right now. It's just the deep comfort of someone giving themselves to you, of sharing themselves. I move inside her and feel her hot breath scorch my neck before her lips find my skin and then I turn my face to her mouth and plunge inside.

I can feel her desire in the eager thrust of her hips against me. She tells me not to hold back, to fuck her hard, to give in to what my body wants to do, and I do. I begin to fuck her with delicious desperation, eager to spill my seed inside her, and my passion ignites her own, so that the harder I thrust into her, the more she opens up to me, spreading her legs and giving herself, making a target of her need. I raise myself up on my arms and look down at her and her eyes open to look at me, to show me the fire inside, how close she is. She whines through clenched teeth, her hips revolving against me in hungry circles as she scrubs her clit against me every time I plunge deep into her, mashing her swollen labia against my loins. I grab her breasts and squeeze hard, making the nipples stand up high for my lips and teeth, and as I suck and bite her she sobs and begins to come.

We're selfish to join; selfish to give to each other and to take, selfish to push each other into that dark pleasure of orgasm. Her skin is so soft and she's so willing; she feeds my hunger with her kisses and her cries. What feels good to me feels good to her. It's the secret of love: that pleasing her is my only pleasure, that every thing I do for myself is good for her as well, and we strive against each other now, two people in the dark of Christmas eve in this lonely bed, bodies entwined, hunting for that savage beauty that's the only cure for loneliness we know, brief, but brilliant with light, and as she comes her body convulses against me in helpless surrender, pushing itself onto my punishing cock as I grit my teeth and wail. My hot seed gushes into her as I hold her as tightly as I can, as if holding her I hold this moment against me as well, welded together in the heat of orgasmic release.

Hold her. Hold her as if that keeps the night away, as if that keeps the cold from entering while I luxuriate in the delicious embrace of her body amidst the tangled sheets, the steamy bed, the sound of the Christmas carols still playing softly from her radio below the sound of our harsh gasping.

I untie her wrists and she rolls towards me, presses herself against the deep rise and fall of my chest. I open my mouth to speak but she puts her fingers to my lips.

For a long time I can't speak and neither can she, or she just doesn't choose to. But as our breathing eases, our same old minds return, and finally I have to say something.

"I'm sorry," I say, moving her hand. "Maybe we shouldn't have done that. Now I feel bad."

"Why do you feel bad?"

"I feel like I should be with you tonight. Like I should be with all the people I love tonight. All the people I've loved."

"Who says you aren't?" she asks me.

It's only a story, a piece of my imagination after all. Maybe she's right. I don't know what to say.

"You don't always have to talk," she says. "You don't always have to explain. Whenever I think about you you're there. Sometimes that's enough."

~ ~ ~

Outside it's started to snow. Not a lovely peaceful Christmas snow like I'd pictured, but sharp, hard little pellets of frozen ice, blasted by a wind that's picking up dark and cold from the west. Santa is still sitting in the sled, leaning on his elbow and reading a Stephen King book, his eyebrows raised in mild alarm as he gets to the good part. Jesus is standing by the sled hands in pockets, stamping his feet like he's cold.

"Hey, I'm sorry I was so long," I say. I really feel bad now that I was inside fucking while the Son of Man and the Spirit of Christmas were out here freezing their balls off, but Jesus looks at me and I see he really doesn't mind. If anything, he seems happy with me.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "It's okay. There's all sorts of ways to love someone. That one counts just as much as the others. There's nothing to feel bad about."

I wonder that he would know about that, but then I remember he came down as a man, just so he could know what it was like, to know all the things we go through. Surely he knew all about what goes on between men and women, all the ways it pushes and pulls our hearts.

"Saves me a trip," Santa says, stretching. "There's some presents I just can't give, you know. That's one of them."

Jesus laughs and waits while I get back on the sleigh. This time he makes me sit in the front between them, then he hops on. Santa sticks a candy cane in between the pages of his book to keep his place and picks up the reins. Now that I'm back in the sled between the two of them, it's pretty warm.

Santa gives the reins a shake, and the sled leaps up into the dark and bitter air, and I see Rachel's house disappear beneath us. I can't help it: my heart still aches.

~ ~ ~

I stand up from the keyboard, stretch and look out the window. It's 12:30 in the morning, Christmas day officially, but really still dark. On the street, some of the Christmas lights are still on outside, lights burning to keep the dark away, to show that even on this longest night of the year we still don't give up. Inside some of the houses people are still awake, like me, but they're wrapping presents, still putting toys together.

I had Santa and Jesus drop me off at my house as we passed by, and I floated down and landed in the backyard as gently as a snowflake. I let myself back into the house, sat down at the keyboard and finished my story, writing it just as it happened.