tagNovels and NovellasAccustomed to Her Face Ch. 26

Accustomed to Her Face Ch. 26


'Twas the Day Before the Day Before Christmas

For days, now, when you came home from university, one thing or another about the house would be different. You were taking exams by day, studying madly at your desk in the library by night. But every late afternoon as you walked through the iron rail front gate, something would be different.

One day, little electric candles had appeared in all the windows of the house and they were glowing in the dusk as you walked the cobble-stone drive and circle to the big front porch. That day, there were juniper garlands draped in the large living room and on the front stair banister. Their fragrance was intoxicating. There were small pine trees with the little Italian lights along the upstairs hall. Garlands had been hung about the bay window casements in your room. Holiday arrangements were on all the mantles.

The next day, there were colored lights on the porch. A tall Silver Fir tree was being decorated by two ladies in the living room; one on a ladder. In their late twenties, they waved at you as you paused to wonder, smiling. But you hurried on to the library.

That evening, when one of them brought you tea on a silver tray, she introduced herself as Louise. She and her sister, Margaret, had taken up residence in the servant's wing. They were here to keep house. You didn't have time to ask more about it.

You were so busy, we barely had time to talk. A hug, a kiss. You were so tired by the time you came to bed, that you often fell asleep in my arms mid-sentence, talking about your day.

But day by day, one thing after another was changing. The house was becoming lighter, gayer. There were fresh flowers on the dining table, in the library, in your room. Each day the beds were made magically, the towels were always fresh.

Your clothes were cleaned and pressed and returned to the drawers where you put them. When you took a brief peek, you could see that even the lingerie you had bought had been ironed and carefully returned to their drawer exactly how you had placed them. You blushed a little bit thinking of Louise or Margaret carefully taking care of your private, naughty things.

The solstice came, the longest night passed, and at last, the day before the day before Christmas, your studies were done. On your way home from school, you stopped with friends at the pub for a martini or two -- or three. You were elated and exhausted.

Your friends were all going to their various homes for the holidays, dispersing across the country. You were the only one staying in town.

"Aren't you going to be lonesome?" one of your fellow physics students asked.

"Don't feel sorry for her. She's got her gentleman-friend to keep her company." It was you friend Kristin. You shot her a warning scowl and she laughed. The gin was making her talkative.

"Oh yeah. You live at that old manse on the hill. You're friendly with that guy?"

"Oh, she's friendly all right."

"Shut - up - Kris. Yes, he's become my friend. And yes I'm hanging out there all Christmas break."

"Like I said, she's quite friendly." Kristin was a good friend but she could be merciless.

"Kris - shut - up. OK. Look at it this way, you guys. Last Christmas -- where were all of you? Right. We were freshmen. You all ran back to where ever you came from to see your families and boyfriends and girlfriends. Where was I? Right. You don't even know.

"You, Dan. You, Jamie. You Kris -- whose supposedly my friend. None of you know.

"Where was I?

"Well, I was in my dorm room. I was here, in this town, in my dorm room, a-frilling-lone. I got myself a frilling turkey grinder for dinner. None of you even sent me a card from wherever the frill you went home to.

"So this Christmas you still get to go back home, OK? -- but in contrast, this year as opposed to last year, I'll be here, but I get to stay in a place that looks like a Norman Rockwell with a really great guy who treats me like I'm worth something more than the postage stamps you guys didn't use sending me Christmas greetings last year. Give me a break." You were genuinely angry and the hurt of last year's loneliness stung like it was new all over again.

"OK. OK." Kristin took your hand over the table. "I meant no foul. Maybe I'm a little jealous is all. Please don't be angry. You're right. You're completely right. We all let you down last year. But we barely knew each other then and we were just kids. Happy Christmas anyway. In three weeks we'll reconvene and you can regale us with tales of your adventures with your fairy god daddy or whatever he is."

Your friends all laughed. You couldn't help but smile and then you laughed along. "Fine -- I'll tell you all about it. Maybe I'll even invite you over for dinner next semester. I've got to get going." You drained your glass.

It was mid afternoon and snowing when you dashed into the house and around the corner into the living room, still in your coat and mittens. The floor around the tree was piled with gifts. It looked like something out of a Thomas Nast illustration.

You laughed. I came from the butler's pantry through the dining room. You ran to me and wrapped your arms around my shoulders. I could taste the perfume of gin on your breath as you slid your tongue into my mouth. I smiled.

"A little early celebration?"

"Not early -- I'm done. Free for three weeks. Free!"

You kissed me again.

"And yes, it's time to celebrate, Daddy." You pulled off your mittens and kicked off your boots, leaving them in the middle of the living-room floor. You took off your scarf, your coat, you lifted your skirt and, oblivious to the presence of Margaret and Louise, polishing the silver in the dining room, you slid your panties off as I watched. The girls giggled and exchanged glances but didn't pause at their work.

My cock was getting hard in my pants. I couldn't wait to have you. You took my hand and dragged me upstairs to your bedroom. You closed the door.

You came to me, unbuckling my trousers and sliding them down my legs.

Now you take my cock in your hand -- gently holding my balls in your other one -- it feels so good -- and you kiss my cock's head. I weave my fingers into your curls as you begin to treat me to your caresses, licking, sucking my tip, then taking my cock deep, clear to its base, down your lovely throat.

And so you work me perfectly and long -- teasing me -- making love to me. I rock my hips, fucking your mouth. You have become so good at this. You are truly wonderful.

But then you stand, you turn to your bed table, opening the drawer and getting out the bottle of lube you bought last week. (I note the acquisition.) You quickly lubricate yourself. You turn, lifting your skirt as you lie frontward across your high bed, and spread your legs, your sweet ass high and available and ready.

So I stand behind you, adjusting you. I slide my cock between your ass cheeks and push. You groan and squirm. I flirt with your tight little ass-hole. I push harder.

I am stretching you as I tease. I am opening you slowly, gradually, deliciously, as your cunnie floods. The tip of my cock feels hot, and you stretch, stretch, and then your body yields. I slowly enter you, sliding all the way in while you groan and gasp and begin to pant, impaled on my hard member.

I begin to fuck you. The feel of my skin is marvelous. It is perfect friction -- nice and slow, "Oh my God! Oh, Daddy."

You are hot inside. I know you well. I want to prolong your enjoyment. I know you are a little drunk and I know this makes you slightly wilder. It's wonderful.

In a wave, emotion sweeps through me. It's like a rush of warmth in my heart. I say quietly, as I fuck your ass, "I love you so much, darling."

But you are busy. You are squealing and squirming in your pleasure. You don't hear my quiet declaration. I know it and I smile.

After a bit, it's time to push you harder. Time to lift you and give you release.

So I fuck you harder -- deep, hard, fast now.

"Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy." You are moaning loudly. "Oh, Daddy, make me cooommmeeee."

And so you do. You are squeezing me hard as I continue to fuck you, to push you. You flex and spread wider so my cock can push even deeper. You shout, "Dadddyyyy!" You come again -- so hard.

Then, I push harder and deeper and roughly. Gripping your hips I thrust and thrust. Your sweet, tight body is mine.

You know it. You cry out, "I'm yours, Daddy. I'm yours. Take me now. Take meeeeeee."

You are fueled by the glory of your semester's accomplishments, by your lust, by your frustration, by the excitement of your coming holiday, by the anticipation of our fun to come, and by three martinis. You scream my name as you come again and that pushes me over the edge.

"Baby! Little baby girl." The heat in my legs, my balls, my groin -- the rush of heat in my cock as it swells -- and now the delicious pump, the release, coming in your little body.

"You are mine!" I shout. It's wonderful.

"Daddy!" You scream as your body is wracked with another orgasm.

I pump the last of my spunk into you. I hold myself as hard and deep in your body as I can. You can feel me throbbing inside you.

I withdraw.

You lie on the bed before me. Your legs spread open. You turn quickly. You are leaning back on your elbows, grinning.

Your legs are spread wantonly exposing your dripping pussy. You slip off the bed and hurry to your bathroom returning with a wet cloth with which you clean me off and before I have the chance to get the least bit soft, your mouth is around my cock again. You suck me hard.

You slip your hand down to your pussy, making you fingers drenched, and then, quickly, before I can react, you slide your hand between my hips and find my ass hole with you finger. I groan, "Oh, little baby," as you slide into me.

It is a wonderful treat. You frig me, as you suck. You work me, and, as you slip a second finger into my ass, I explode. "My baby! Oh -- yessss. Oh yesssssssss. My baby!"

I groan again and pump my come into your mouth as you suck every drop. You tease my ass as I twitch in your mouth, withdrawing your fingers and taking my cock deep in your throat again.

You release me. You slide my pants back up my legs, tucking in my shirt and buckling my belt. You stand before me, grinning up at me.

You are tipsy and funny. Your eyes are sparking. "I love you, Daddy." You giggle. "How about a sandwich? I'm starved."

We laugh together.

"Sounds great by me, little girl." I smile warmly. "Welcome back."

But you are too tired. You sit down on your bed. I catch you as you swoon.

I slip off your thick socks, unbutton your blouse. I undress you. I pull back the covers and arrange you in your bed. I cover you and kiss your sleeping forehead.

Your eyes are dancing beneath your eyelids. I know you are dreaming. In your sleep, you whisper "Shujin." I'm stunned. It's a pet name from long ago.

"Thank you, Konekochan." I whisper.

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