Angela Goes Home for Christmas

M: Yeah, probably, but he hasn't seen yours. And anyway, it's not a good idea to encourage him, especially live, in person. Besides, it's Christmas. Let's keep it clean, okay? 😇

J: Tell that to Mark and especially to Shane. Shane won't leave me alone! You give the man a suck and a fuck and he thinks he owns you

M: You sucked off and fucked Shane, both??

J: Is that okay with you? Are you jealous? You divorced the man, remember?

M: Water under the bridge, at this point

J: More like semen down my leg 😜

M: TMI, Joanie

**

"Well, that was a wonderful Christmas dinner. Big thanks to Angela and Joanie. Am I right, men?" my ex husband Shane said. He always appreciates my cooking. Shane is a man who's always appreciative, and about most everything. I have to say, however, I wasn't feeling too close to him just then, knowing he had fucked the bejesus out of my BFF Joanie, on Christmas Eve, no less, not to mention his other affairs, while we were married. Shane was supposed to be mine, and only mine.

I know, I know, I had fucked my Dad on the same night, and for the first time, and now every time I looked at my Dad, I couldn't help but smile.

Dad too, could not stop looking lovingly at me. I'm sure he was channeling the ghost of Charlotte, his wife, and my sweet, loving, and lovable mother, when he looked at me. I think I was actually helping him recover from the funk he was in after her passing. My Dad just could not seem to get over how much I resembled my Mom when she had been my age. In private, he kept telling me I fucked just like her, too. I guessed that was a compliment?

Mr. Alcott looked like a kid in a candy store. I remembered that Joanie, would, on occasion, change clothes in my bedroom. So, he had probably seen her naked, too, or at least close to naked, in a bra and panties set.

"For the after-dinner entertainment, would you ladies like to finish modeling the underwear you bought yesterday at Victoria's Secret?" my brother Mark said. I shot him a look. Just how sexually insatiable was my brother, anyway? He had fucked Joanie every which way but Tuesday, but so far this visit he and I had not connected, that way. Did he want that, too? I, for one, was fairly fucked out.

"No, I don't think so," I replied.

"Yes, of course we would. Come on, Angela," Joanie said.

"Can I have a word with you, Joanie?" I asked, and I pulled her off to my bedroom. I pointed out that there were four men, counting Alcott, and two of us, and they all wanted each of us, and was it wise to prance around in underwear under those conditions? Joanie agreed it was folly, complete and total folly, but she wanted to do it nevertheless. "You want to, too, and don't deny it," Joanie said.

"Why do you want to?" I asked. "Is it just simple exhibitionism, or are you hoping for a small Christmas orgy?"

"I just want to keep the men happy. It's Christmas. They're all hurting, you know. Your Dad is mourning your Mom, your brother is nursing a rather serious wound vis à vis his wife Alice, who apparently had an affair with his boss at work. Shane is devastated by your lack of interest in him, and Mr. Alcott -- well, he's just weird. Who knows what his demons are?" Joanie said. "We need to cheer them up. It's the Christian thing to do, and it's Christmas."

"It's a sexist, provocative thing to do, Joanie. Don't pull this Christian nonsense on me," I said.

"What, Christianity can't be sexist? What planet are you living on?" Joanie asked.

"Planet Angela," I said. "Hand me the red panties. I'm going bra less. Everyone's seen my boobs, up close and personal, anyway." Joanie was already in her blue bra and panty set.

"Mr. Alcott hasn't," Joanie said.

"He saw them last night. Dad and I, well, you know, in my bedroom window. He saw it all," I said.

"Whoa! Kinky, kinky! Your own Dad? You going to fuck Mr. Alcott, too?" she asked.

"Certainly not! I'm not fucking anyone tonight. Not my Dad, not my brother, and most certainly not my ex! I'll make a brief appearance, so they can get their drools on, and then I'm getting dressed again," I said.

"So, I get all four men? I can't handle four men," Joanie said.

"Mr. Alcott's no threat, so it's three, not four. You can quietly send my brother upstairs to me, and then you only have two: Shane, and my Dad," I said.

"I'm not so sure about Mr. Alcott not being a threat, and both he and your Dad are kind of old men, you know?" Joanie said.

"The old man known as my Dad gave me the best fuck of my life, last night, as God and Mr. Alcott are my witnesses," I said.

"Well, if you put it that way..." Joanie said, and we walked downstairs, my boobs bouncing like crazy as my feet hit the stairs heavily.

**

We did end up with a mini orgy. I let Dad and Mark takes turns on me, while Hank Alcott and Shane enjoyed Joanie. Joanie could not get enough of Hank, who drove her to more climaxes than she could count. She became hoarse from screaming to the high heavens so much. Shane made a play for me, but even the Christmas spirit could not get me to make love to Shane.

I know Mr. Alcott wanted me, too, but he was happy to get Joanie, and who wouldn't be? A thirty something sexpot like Joanie had to be thrilling to an old man like Hank Alcott. As for me, I realized that since Alice wasn't there, I was living the dream, with Mark and Dad sharing me. What a talented family I have!

A few days later, Shane came back to pick me up, since I had turned in my rental car. Alice had shown up, and she and Mark settled their differences, as Mark, good Christian that he is, forgave her, her trespasses. He's a better man than I am, even if I'm very much a woman.

Joanie was still Joanie. I had succumbed to the wishes of my Dad, and I let Hank and Dad spit roast me, with Dad fucking, and Hank Alcott getting my mouth. Only Shane had been denied my body.

I felt strange blowing Hank Alcott. I had always had a bond with him, as for over ten years I had watched him watch me, and I had developed the habit of taking a long time to choose my outfits for the day, while standing nude, or just in panties, before my closet. The time I took, standing naked, was for Hank's benefit, and he knew it.

Hank had always greeted me when I'd pass his porch. He would give me a smile and a wink, and I'd wave daintily back, giggling nervously. Then I'd rush to my room and change clothes, spending a while in only my panties, while Mr. Alcott watched. Even at some tender ages, it turned me on that he was seeing me naked, and it took me a couple of years to figure out why.

And now I had given Mr. Alcott a blowjob? It kind of ruined the nature of our relationship. Joanie told me it simply evolved the relationship, but I knew she was just saying that to make me feel better. Well, my Dad wanted me to do it, and so I did it. Mr. Alcott didn't seem to mind. I just didn't know what was going to happen the next time I visited my Dad!

In the car ride home, Shane and I had a long discussion. We were divorced, true, and it was prudent not to fool around with each other for a certain period after the divorce was final. The judge had told us that.

"Are you going to let some old white man, a constipated judge who doesn't know you from Adam, have sway over your sex life, Angela?" Shane had finally asked.

"How do you know he's constipated?" I mockingly replied.

"Pull over at the rest stop up ahead," I said. Shane did, thinking I needed the toilet. He knew constipation was not a problem for me!

"Get out and come with me into the woods," I said. There was a small woods behind the rest stop, although in winter it did not provide much cover. Still, it was something.

"Angela, it's 30 degrees and snowing," Shane said.

"Shut up and come with me," I insisted.

I stripped off my clothes, lay down in the snow, made a naked snow angel, and when my legs were maximally apart, I said, "Fuck me, lover. Fuck me now. Merry Christmas."

Shane might have been a philandering husband, but he was all man, and he wasn't stupid.

"You make one hell of a snow angel, Angela. Given your name, I'd expect nothing less," Shane said, as he got on top of me, and gently slid himself inside me. By the time he was done fucking me, his back was covered in a thin layer of snow. I returned to the car giggling. Shane kicked up the heat to maximum, and I took my time dressing myself, as Shane drove down the highway, south to Seymour, 'The Crossroads of Southern Indiana,' where we live, and where John Mellencamp was born (no relation).

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy New Year, too.