A Christmas Tart

"You've never done me that way." Mom said and faked a pout that made me laugh.

"You can have it any way you want, but you still have a story to tell. You said that 'most' of the sex you had while I was gone was in your imagination, not 'all.'"

Mom looked down and bit her lip. "What's wrong," I asked.

"This is going to be awkward, but you should know," she said. "It was a couple months ago. I had a lunch meeting with Niles, and he started talking. His wife was in the hospital again, and he was fighting with his daughter. He seemed lonely and miserable, so I invited him here."

"Niles?" I asked. "Mr. Clean?" I put both hands on her arms and pinned her down on the cushion. "He's like the last man I'd imagine!"

Niles was a little older than Mom, but not a lot. Between us, we called him 'Mr. Clean' because he started shaving his head after his hairline receded. His look was pretty unique.

Mom caught her breath and watched me. "It didn't work out like I expected," she said. "I sent the housekeeper home early, and he was on me as soon as the door shut behind her. He took me right out of my comfort zone."

My expression must have told Mom what I was thinking. She hurried to say, "Niles didn't hurt me, or even scare me that much. He pushed me down on this sofa," she said, and patted the cushion next to me, "and had my blouse open before I knew what he was doing.

"Niles' hand was up my skirt almost as fast," she said. "I couldn't have kept my legs together if I wanted to. My skirt was up around my waist before he let me go, and he only let me go to get his dick out. It didn't last, but right then I was turned on."

I was, too. I liked Mom's stories as much as she liked mine.

"Niles pulled my head down to his cock, and I slid off the couch to kneel between his knees," she said. "He wasn't hard right away, but it didn't take very long to get him there. He had lipstick on his hard-on when he pushed me back."

Mom squirmed around under me. She hooked one of those Fuck Me pumps over my hip and reached to touch the front of my pants. I was hard, and that made her smile. "It's almost time," she said.

"That's as good as it got for me. Niles bent me over on the couch and held my wrists behind my back. He yanked my nylons down to my knees, and pushed my face into the cushion. I could hardly breathe."

"Niles fucked me hard and fast, but he still didn't finish as fast as I wanted him to."

I was so caught up watching Mom that I didn't even notice that she'd opened my jeans. She had my cock in her hand when she finished her story. "He acted like he owned me after that," she said. "I had to put him in his place. Don't be surprised if things are a little tense tomorrow."

Mom looked like something else crossed her mind. "He hinted that he might bring Stephanie. I think Niles would do anything to keep your account—even hooking you up with his daughter." Stephanie was ten years old when I was in high school. I never thought about her before. She'd probably be in college now.

I closed my eyes to enjoy the way Mom touched me. When I opened them again she let go of my hard-on and pushed me back to untangle herself. "Let's use your bed," she said. "Take care of the fire and the tree. I'll start recording."

The cameras had been in my room as long as I could remember. First they were baby monitors, and then they went unused for years. Mom upgraded the system to get video of us in bed. Now it recorded four-track sound, used fancy cameras to get pictures that were clear even under dim light, and stored it all on a computer in her room. Watching with her was always fun.

Mom stood up from her computer just as I reached her room. She pushed me back, stepped around her chair, and sorted through a box on her dresser. She turned around with a grin, and a leather strap dangled from her fingers.

"Remember this?" she asked. It was the snap-on cock strap that she got for my high school graduation party—the party that happened after everyone else was gone. We'd used it since, and it was broken in.

She didn't wait for an answer. "Let's go," she said, and pointed to the door. Mom followed me to the side of my bed, and then she pushed me back to sit down. She tugged on the waist of my jeans and said "Off with these."

Mom knelt in front of me and waited while I pushed my jeans down. I'd lost the hard-on that she gave me on the couch, so she bent over my lap and fixed it. She took me in her mouth and drew the head of my cock through her lips. She fondled my balls and wrapped my shaft with her soft hands. I dropped on my back and groaned at the sensations. My cock ached when she let me go.

"Give me more room," Mom said. She pushed my legs apart and worked with both hands between my thighs. She looped the cock strap under my balls and snapped it around my hard-on. My cock surged when she touched it again. It grew even fatter and harder. Veins bulged along its length, and I felt like it would tear through the tight skin.

Mom was staring at my cock when I sat up. I put one hand behind her neck, and shoved her robe off her shoulders with the other. We were both breathless when I let her push away, and then I rolled her onto the bed.

Mom was my sex doll—my very willing sex doll. I bit her throat, squeezed her breasts, and kneaded the tense muscles in her back. I pushed my knee between her legs and pulled her against me with my hand on her hip and then on her ass. She gasped against my chest and ground against my thigh.

"You have big hands," she said when I slipped my fingers over the soft curves and folds between her legs. "Big, rough hands." Mom tipped her head back to look at me, and I could see the excitement in her face. I wanted to watch that excitement dissolve to ecstasy.

Mom had told me her fantasies about me for the first time, and I meant to make them come true. I overwhelmed her and gave her no choice. Her nectar wet my fingers, and my fingers swirled over her clit.

"I love you," I said, with my lips close by her ear, "and I always have." I kissed her face and the tender spot below her ear, and I whispered, "I'll never love anyone else like I love you."

Mom exhaled against my chest, lifted her Fuck Me pumps, and laid her nylon-covered leg over my hip. I worked her harder and faster and felt tension build in her body. She was on the verge of her climax before I pushed my cock into her. She groaned and twisted under me to free her other leg, and then lifted it around me. I was wrapped in her warm thighs when her body yielded. She arched her back and writhed.

I thrust into her once, twice, and that's all it took. I gripped her hair and pulled her head back to watch. Mom screamed for me, and then that tension in her face faded to ecstasy. Her body was limp in my arms. I held her close. I stroked her hair and whispered in her ear, and I made her warm and safe.

My cock burned deep inside Mom's body the whole time, but I moved slowly, gently until I felt her excitement return. "Was it good for you?" she asked, and stroked my jaw. "Did you come?"

"You were great for me," I said. "But you know I don't come with that strap on. There's time for that."

Mom sighed when I pulled my cock out of her. I rose to my knees and pulled the bed clothes from under us, then I turned her around and held her back against my chest.

"You smell better than Heidi did," I said, and Mom laughed. I tasted the soft skin on her throat. "You taste better, too." Mom leaned her head back against my shoulder. She knew what I was going to do, though I'd never done her that way before.

"Give me your hand," I said. Mom's hand seemed so small when I held it between her tits. "And your other," and I pushed it down between her legs. She swirled her fingers over her clit, and I could hear the wet sounds her pussy made.

I pulled back to let my cock slip down the crack of Mom's ass, and she squirmed in my hold as I pushed it between her legs. She touched the head of my cock, and then its fat head slipped into her. Mom gasped at my first thrust. In one motion her soft butt settled against me, and my cock pulsed deep inside her.

I bent Mom forward, and I pounded into her. The sensations from her body around my shaft were maddening. I held her up against my chest, and I fucked her.

Mom's excitement had never really faded after her first climax, and it gripped her body again. I thrust into her harder and slapped my hips against her butt. She clutched at her trigger and clenched her teeth. Mom groaned, and then screamed when she climaxed again.

I felt her body relax, and I knew she was done when she let go of her clit and slipped her wrist from my hold. I held her hips up under me, but let her head lie on the pillow. My cock still moved inside her—it was involuntary, there wasn't a way I could stop that. I stroked her back, knotted my fingers in her hair, and turned her head to see her face.

"Are you in your comfort zone?" I asked. She nodded her head without saying a word, and I said "I'm going to take the strap off." She nodded her head again. It was all she could manage.

I tugged at the snaps until they let go, pulled the strap from around my cock and balls, and relief rushed through my body from my aching package. The leather was covered with Mom's nectar. I sniffed it, tasted it, and then dropped it on the pillow next to her.

I could do Mom the way Niles did her, but I could do her better. She watched from the corner of her eye as best she could, and I moved slowly so that she knew what I was doing. I found one of her wrists and held it behind her back, and then found the other and held them both in one hand. Sweat glistened on her skin, and deep beneath her heart-shaped butt, my rod pumped slowly inside her.

I held Mom's hip to keep her from slipping away, caught my breath, and thrust my cock into her. Without the leather strap, I was finally going to come, and it wasn't going to take very long.

Mom's butt bounced and squeezed under me, and my pace quickened. Her wet pussy sucked at my over-sensitive cock, and my pace quickened again. I thrust into her faster, and harder each time. I felt like I was about to explode when her wrists slipped out of my grip. She braced herself and pushed back against my thrusts.

I roared at the ceiling when I came, and Mom flattened on the mattress under me. Cream shot through my burning shaft and gushed into her; one spasm and then another until I was empty, and she was full.

The mattress was soft and the sheets were cool where I fell next to Mom. She followed me and kissed my face, and she asked me again, "Was it good for you?" All I could do was laugh. I touched her lips and her pretty face, and I laughed.

* * *

The restaurant was decorated for the holidays, but the decorations were subdued, as I expected from such an expensive place. Mom and I had time to appreciate the decorator's good taste over cocktails, because Niles was late. When he did get there, he was towing Stephanie beside him with a big hand on her elbow.

Stephanie didn't look like a ten-year-old anymore. In fact, she looked elegant—for a sullen college freshman. I stood for Niles' introduction and couldn't help but notice how Stephanie's perfume contrasted with her appearance. It was strong and cheap.

"Henry, Mrs. Banner," Niles said, "this is my daughter Stephanie." Stephanie tucked her knee-length skirt under her and took the seat beside mine. He took the seat across the table and added, "We're late because Stephanie had to fix a wardrobe malfunction."

Stephanie laughed—but only a little. Her hair was pinned at the back of her head and fell neatly behind her shoulders. It was flaxen, but for a single blue lock tucked behind her right ear. I knew she was nervous by the way she dragged that blue lock between her fingers.

Mom offered Niles her hand without smiling, and then pulled it back as soon as he touched it. She smiled at Stephanie when she said, "You can call me Claire. Whatever the problem was, Stephanie, your outfit is lovely now."

I had to agree. The soft fabric shaped around the contours of Stephanie's breasts without interference from a bra. Her eyes met mine when I looked up, and she smiled. There was no secret where I'd been looking. What I'd been thinking was, 'more than a mouthful is wasted.' Stephanie was very efficient.

Niles seemed to alternate between trying to get Stephanie engaged in conversation, and sitting back with a sort of disdain for his daughter. She never did loosen up, and he was hard to read.

We didn't talk business until the table was cleared to the white table cloth. I was nursing an espresso when Niles straightened his back and produced a leather folder. He handed it across the table and said, "These are the records you asked for."

The folder contained a current statement of holdings in my trust and a summary of transactions since my father's death—two things I'd never seen before. I skimmed through the summary and said, "I'll look more closely tomorrow. This doesn't seem to be the right time or the right lighting." When I looked up, I found Stephanie leaning over my arm to look at the bottom line—thirty-four million dollars. It was maybe a little less than I anticipated.

There was a third document behind the two I'd asked for. "There's nothing you need to do now but sign that," Niles said, and he reached across the table with a pen that he took from inside his dark suit. I waved the pen away and held the paper up to the light to see what it was.

"This is a contract for continuation of your services," I said. I didn't feel a need for Niles' services. I had a degree in finance, and now I had time to make my own decisions. "I'll have our attorney look at it."

"It's a standard contract," Niles said. There was an air of protest in his voice. "And given the holidays, you probably won't be able to get it looked at until next week." He glanced at Mom, at Stephanie, and leaned forward as if they wouldn't hear. He nodded toward his daughter and said, "It's not in the contract, but there is a signing bonus."

I couldn't believe what I heard, or what I thought I heard, but Stephanie protested, "Oh jesus, Dad!" and rolled her eyes. She found me looking, and turned so red that I could see it even by the restaurant's dim light. Niles had just offered me his daughter.

He must have felt a need to explain himself. "We've been associated for a long time," he said, and glanced at Mom. "Sometimes very closely."

Mom straightened her back and glared at Niles. Even Stephanie noticed.

"I'd like our association to continue," Niles said. "It can be closer than before." He sat back to look around and seemed self-conscious about people around us. "Call me, and we can talk," he said, and then turned to his daughter. Niles cocked his head toward the door. "Let's go. Your step-mom is expecting us home."

Stephanie set her jaw. "I'll find my own way home," she said.

Mom waved to our waiter and had the staff bring our coats. We were waiting outside the restaurant for the valet to bring Mom's car when Stephanie stepped out behind us. Mom turned and asked, "Stephanie, are you sure you're going to be alright?"

Stephanie had a distracted expression when she looked up from her phone. "Call me Steffi like my friends do," she said, "and you'll sound less like Dad. I can just call an Uber, but, you know, I don't really feel like going home right now." She gave a frustrated sigh. "Most of my friends are gone for the holidays. They're having fun, and I'm here being pimped by my dad."

"Why don't you come with us?" Mom asked. She saw my surprised expression and laughed, "Don't you want to hear Steffi's side of the story? I sure do."

"What are you guys doing?" Steffi asked.

Mom turned to tip the valet, so I made up an answer. "Sit in front of the fire, maybe watch a movie, have some drinks, talk, watch the Christmas tree. All that."

"Drinks sound good right now," Steffi said, "but I hardly know you guys, and you seem so close. I don't think I should butt in."

"Oh, butt in," Mom said. It wasn't hard to convince Steffi. Maybe she wanted to tell her story. We talked on the way home about university classes, trips to Chile, charity organizations and anything else but Niles, and by then Steffi had opened up.

I took their coats when we got inside and hung them with my new blazer while Steffi trailed Mom to the kitchen. When I caught up, I heard Steffi ask, "Is Henry always so nice to you?"

Mom touched my chest and said, "Usually. He can be a little overbearing sometimes, but I raised him right." She put a glass of white wine in Steffi's hand and picked up a glass of her own. She used her glass to gesture to a bottle of beer on the counter and said, "I thought you'd like that more than you'd like the Chablis."

Steffi waited on the sofa while Mom lit the Christmas tree and I lit the fireplace. When we were done, Mom settled on the cushion next to Steffi and said, "Now I have to know how that all happened. What made Niles think he could pimp you for a signature?"

I stood up from the fireplace and said, "And I want to hear about the wardrobe malfunction."

Steffi laughed at me. "I think those are both the same story," she said. "As near as I can tell, Dad doesn't have any respect for women—least of all, me." She slipped her high heels off and pulled her feet up under her. "If I tell you this, then you have to tell me what happened between you and Dad. I saw the way you looked at him."

"Henry knows, so I suppose you can, too," Mom said. "Now go on."

"Dad told me this afternoon that he wanted me to 'cement the deal' with Henry." She looked at me and dragged that blue lock through her fingers again. "It took me a second to realize what he meant. He wanted me to have sex with you so that you'd sign his contract. Jesus, I was pissed.

"I refused, but he was going to cut off my allowance if I didn't go along. I'm not ready to work for a living," she said, and laughed. "I want someone to hand me thirty-four million.

"This is the wardrobe part. I decided that if he was going to treat me like a whore, then I'd dress like one. I had some black mesh stockings from my Halloween costume. When he was ready to go to the restaurant, I showed up in those stockings, my highest heels, my shortest shorts, and a bikini top. I had makeup to match."

"Is that where the perfume came from?" I asked. Steffi sipped her wine and watched while I sat down next to her.

"Yeah. I bought that crap when I was in fourth grade," she said. "I practically bathed in it."

"Dad went apoplectic. I thought he was going to hurt me. He dragged me back to my room, rifled through my closet, and threw like three dresses on my bed. He told me to get my makeup right and then pick one."

"Where was your step-mom while that was going on?" Mom asked.

"Asleep," Steffi said. "Dad has her so drugged-up now that she hardly has a personality, and she sleeps all the time—except in the middle of the night."

Steffi looked from Mom to me and went on. "Dad calmed down a little after that and kinda tried to make up. He said I didn't have to have sex with you. All I really had to do was promise you sex until you signed the contract. He didn't care after the contract was signed if I actually laid you or not."

"You seemed surprised when he made his offer," Mom said.

"I was," Steffi said. "I mean, I was pretty sure it would happen, but it seemed so odd when he called me a 'signing bonus.'" She laughed and leaned a little closer to me. "I'm glad you guys didn't haggle over the price."

Steffi sipped her wine, then drained the glass. "Is there more of this?" she asked.

"I'll get it," I said, and I took her glass and Mom's glass to the kitchen while they talked. When I got back, Steffi was saying, "I don't know where he got the idea that I even could do that. I mean, I'm not Daddy's Little Virgin, but I'm not Daddy's Little Vamp, either."