Christmas Interrupted

I barely had a warning, before a sudden, thunderous orgasm rocked my body. The fireworks were now the only thing left. A thick, creamy rope of cum shot out of my cock, and splattered on my shirt. Then semen started pouring forth. My cock throbbed, straining against her grip. White, warm cum rolled over her hand, and down my shaft. At first I thought it would never stop, but then it fizzled out.

My heart was pounding. The fog of horniness lifted, and realization settled in.

My mother had just jerked me off. She seemed to realize it, too. Her hands withdrew, and she stood up quickly.

"I, uh, think it's best if I head to bed. Yeah. Hmm. Had a little bit too much to drink," she stammered, and walked into her bedroom.

I was wrong. It was definitely possible for this Christmas to get much, much worse. What the fuck had just happened? What is Dad going to do when he finds out?

Why was I still hard?

I wrapped my own head around my dick, still slick with cum, and just started pumping, trying my best to remember how it had felt when someone else's hands had done it.

My hand raced up and down my shaft, and even with the natural lubrication, the friction was intense. I don't think I've ever jerked off so hard. My entire cock was brimming with excitement, and pure, raw need.

I came again, and more sticky fluid erupted out of my cock, running over my hand. I kept jerking until it became too painful, and then sat back, out of breath, feeling my cock and balls give off a twitch every couple of seconds.

And then the post-orgasm wave of guilt hit me. My own mother. Shit.

I went to the bathroom to clean up. There was nothing I could do about the giant cum stain on my shirt, other than take it off. My sweatpants had plenty on it, too. Only my boxers had somehow managed to stay clean. Kind of ironic.

My head started to spin again, and I remembered I was still fairly drunk. The adrenaline must have worn off. I grabbed a towel, wet it, and just wiped off the cum as best as I could.

The entire world spun, and I just wanted it to stop. On the way to my bed, I slammed into the doorframe, and stubbed my toe. I barely felt it.

I dropped on my bed, and fell asleep in seconds.

***** December 25th - Christmas Day *****

I had a dream that night. A great dream. Santa came by on a huge sled, and landed right in front of our house. Except Santa was a hot chick, wearing a form fitting red leather suit. Long, blonde hair, massive tits, and a killer body.

"Hello Thom, you've been a very, very naughty boy."

Santa undid the zipper on her front, and her gorgeous body came into view. I was naked, and the two of us were in bed. I was just about to stick my cock inside of her, when I woke up.

That's the way my dreams always went. Right up until the good part. That's when my mind realized that I was still a pathetic virgin, and forced me to wake up.

While trying to relieve myself of my morning wood, the memories of the previous night came back. Had that been a dream too, or did Mom actually jerk me off? It seemed hard to believe. Maybe it was just the alcohol playing tricks on my memory. Some sort of oedipal wish fulfillment?

Still, I couldn't ignore the stains on my discarded shirt and pants. What the hell was going to happen now? A knot formed in my stomach, trying to think about it. I couldn't manage to finish jerking off, because my cock kept going limp.

Then the full realization hit me. My mom jerked me off. Things would never be the same anymore. Unless, somehow, by some miracle, she wouldn't remember it. Maybe she had drunk way too much, and wouldn't be able to recall it.

I laid still in my bed, trying to will myself to go back to sleep, and wake up in a world where nothing had ever happened.

It didn't work. My mind was racing too much.

An hour later, I finally gathered the courage to get up. Mostly because I had to use the bathroom, and my stomach kept growling.

The house was silent. At some point in the night, the power must have come back on, though. The kitchen and living room were empty, and the door to Mom's room was still closed. I only managed to force down half a bowl of cereal, before losing appetite.

After dumping the rest of the bowl, I walked to Mom's door, and raised my hand to knock. A couple of inches before my finger rapped on the wood, my hand froze. I couldn't hear anything inside. Maybe she was still asleep. Maybe she didn't want to come out. Maybe she did remember, and never wanted to see me again.

I remembered that it was Christmas morning. In the tumult, I had completely forgotten. There wasn't any of the usual excitement. There was just a knot in my stomach.

There were no presents at all under the Christmas tree. Mom brought them all in one of the big suitcases, but she clearly hadn't had time to put them under the tree. I had some presents of my own, but I forgot to put them under the tree, too.

I went back to my room, and grabbed the three wrapped boxes. One each for Mom, Dad, and Lydia. They only made the tree look worse. My dad and my sister weren't even here, and now Mom hated me forever.

It was officially the absolutely worst Christmas in the history of Christmases.

I went back to my room, and booted up my laptop. The wifi miraculously worked, and I was at last able to get my mind off of things.

It was just after 2 PM when I heard voices from the living room. Well, just one voice. Mom's. Was she calling Dad to tell him what happened? Or maybe the cops, to come arrest me.

The knot in my stomach returned, bigger than before. I got up, and opened the door just a crack, to listen in. She was standing by the landline, with her back to me. She was dressed in jeans, and a white sweater.

"...cleared a path to the road."

...

"Yes, plenty. At least another five days."

...

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Sharon."

Mom was talking to the sheriff. I let out a breath I hadn't even been aware I was holding. She placed the phone back into the charger, and turned around.

"Thom?"

I jumped, and cursed myself. No way to hide now. I opened the door all the way, and walked out. Mom's face was like a mask. I couldn't read anything. Was she angry?

She walked up to me, and gave me a big hug.

"Merry Christmas, Thom!"

"Merry Christmas, Mom."

"I just put the presents under the tree."

Sure enough, a big arrangement of colorful lumps decorated the base of the tree. Now it looked like it was supposed to look it. But why didn't she mention the thing that happened?

"Do you want to open them?" she asked nonchalantly.

I thought about it for a moment.

"Doesn't feel right without Dad and Sis here."

Mom wrinkled her nose.

"I know what you mean. Have you eaten yet?"

"Just breakfast."

"Great. Want some leftovers?"

"Sure."

I followed her into the kitchen, and she pulled the tupperware out of the fridge. While she heated it up in the microwave, I made some coffee. We settled at the kitchen table, and started picking apart the rest of the bird, not bothering with cutlery.

Mom started chattering about previous Christmases, rehashing the stories that each of us had already heard a dozen times, at least. Like that time Dad broke his leg, or the time Aunt Judy crashed into the tree. I just listened, glad that I didn't have to put up a lot of effort.

My eyes kept drifting down to Mom's breasts. Her green sweater wasn't particularly tight, but her breasts were—I forced myself to stop analyzing Mom's breasts. They were just normal breasts. Bigger than average. They also used to feed me when I was a kid. Except I couldn't remember what it was like to suckle on her nipples.

Fortunately for me, nobody would have been able to see my erection under the table. If she remembered anything at all what had happened last night, she didn't mention it. That was probably for the best. It was wrong, and I knew that.

"Any word from Dad?" was the only thing I said during the meal.

"I talked to him earlier, before I called the sheriff. He and Lydia are doing fine. The hotel they're staying at is having a Christmas party. He said they would clear a path over the next couple of days. We'll be able to get out before the year ends, at any rate. Provided it doesn't snow anymore. Forecast says it shouldn't, but you never know, don't you? I'm glad it stopped snowing for now, at least. That reminds me of the time Lydia wanted to build a snowfort, and she nearly got hypothermia. We were so worried..."

She continued telling the story, as if I hadn't been there myself. I was the one who ran for help, after all.

After the meal, she said she wanted to go and read some more, and retired to her own room. I waited until she left the kitchen, before getting up. As soon as I was back in front of my laptop, I pulled out my dick, and started masturbating.

A strong wave of guilt hit me right after I came. How pathetic was I to actually jerk off to my own mother?

I closed all my school documents, and tried to get my mind off of things by gaming. Unfortunately, the wifi kept dropping every fifteen minutes, making it a fairly frustrating experience.

Even worse, it started snowing again. The only reason I even noticed was because I opened my window, and attempted to carve out a shaft for more sunlight to get into the room. As soon as I pushed away the snow at the top, big, heavy flakes attempted to bury me again.

I checked the front door, and there was already another five inches of snow on the ground. I'd probably have to start shovelling again soon. It would be easier than waiting, especially since the sun was already low on the horizon.

With a sigh, I got dressed, grabbed the shovel, and started working. The sun set, plunging the world into darkness. Whenever I looked up, the faint glow from the nearby city lit up hundreds of flakes, falling down. Thousands of flakes. Maybe millions. A never ending assault from mother nature.

Sweaty, cold, and wet to the bone, I stumbled back into the house. My arms were aching, and for once, I wasn't thinking about the handjob. Mom sat on the couch, in front of a merry fire, reading. She didn't even look up when I entered the room, but I was too eager to jump into the shower to be bothered by it.

Twenty minutes later, and I was starting to be warm again, in crisp, clean slacks, and dress shirt. I brought that outfit along specifically to wear for Christmas day, and I thought I might as well get some use out of it. I definitely did not have any intentions to look as good as possible to anyone who might happen to take notice of me.

"Thom?"

I went back to the living room.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's not much of a Christmas, but what do you say that we hunker down in front of the fire for a while, and eat some sweets."

Mom must have changed clothes while I was in the shower. She wasn't in a jeans and sweater anymore. I've never seen her wear that dress before. It was lavender, and simple, but elegant at the same time. It reached down to her knees, and had a gap on the side, where her pale skin showed through. It clung to her curves, like a lover's embrace. The neckline showed just a hint of her cleavage. Enough to know it was there.

My breath caught in my throat, and I barely managed to croak out a "Yes". Mom patted the sofa next to her, but then stood up, and walked to the kitchen. My eyes followed her all the way around the corner, glued to the two cheeks that bounced up and down with every step.

She came back carrying a tray with assorted pastries. Coconut macaroons, chocolate chip cookies, vanilla horns, gingerbread, candy canes, chocolate pecan sandies... and a big bottle of wine, with two glasses.

Once again she motioned me to sit down, and I took place next to her. When I grabbed a macaroon, she poured wine into the two glasses.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Of course."

Did she really not remember what had happened last night? I grabbed another macaroon. Mom handed me the glass, and settled into the other side of the couch. I was so nervous, I took a big gulp, and it went down the wrong hole. That led to a rather painful coughing fit, ending with Mom clapping me on the back.

When I settled into the couch again, Mom didn't move back to the other side. She remained next to me. Her leg was touching the side of mine. The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat of her body. I smelled the faint scent of the orange hair wash that she loved.

Mom raised her glass, and we toasted.

"To Christmas," she said.

"To Christmas," I echoed.

There was a definite tension in the air. Mom didn't even touch any of the pastries, she just drank wine. Glass, after glass, after glass. Neither of us said a word.

An hour later, and the plate was half empty. The bottle of wine was very definitely empty. Mom shook the last drop out of it, mumbled something, and suddenly stood up. She walked to the kitchen, and returned with another bottle.

"Are you really sure?" I asked.

"Yes."

She didn't pour herself another glass, however. The open bottle just stood there in front of us. Mom sat down next to me again, and leaned into me. It was like touching an oven. I didn't move a muscle, for fear of disturbing her.

"Your father and I are having problems," she said suddenly.

"What kind of problems?" I asked.

"Things just haven't been the same. Not for a long time. Like we've grown apart. We wanted to go to marriage counseling, but... that was two years ago. We never actually went. We just kept drifting further away. We haven't even been intimate with each other since Valentine's day. I was hoping that maybe we could get something going this Christmas. Rekindle some of the old fire."

I was speechless. I had no idea. To me, they always seemed like the perfect couple. They fought sometimes, when I was still younger, but it was never anything serious. They even used to go out on plenty of date nights.

Things must have changed a lot since I moved out.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because... because I want you to know that you're not intruding on anything when we... I mean, it's ok. You're not—I'm not—"

"When we what?"

Mom got up, and stood in front of me. She looked down at me, and smiled. In the firelight, she looked like a beautiful dream. The light of the fire illuminated her outline. Her black hair seemed to shimmer. She reached behind her back, and pulled down the zipper of the dress. I gulped.

The sides of the lavender dress rolled down, like they were the wrappings on a Christmas present being opened up. It was the most beautiful present I've ever seen. She shrugged out of the dress, and it fell down to her midriff. Her breasts were constrained by a black silk bra.

The fabric slid down her body, and dropped to the floor. Mom wasn't a supermodel. She was far better. She looked just like the kinds of women that kept popping up in my dreams. Soft, and shapely.

If a bomb had gone off next to us, I wouldn't have noticed. The only thing I paid attention to was her body. She unclasped the bra, and it fell down next to the dress. Her breasts clung to her like teardrops. I've seen tits before in porn, but they looked much bigger in real life. Two big, pink buds adorned them, surrounded by areolas the size of a quarter.

Were those really the same nipples that I used to drink from as a kid? I had no idea why that thought entered my mind just then.

Mom slipped her fingers under the sides of her black panties, and slid them down. A dense, dark patch of hair revealed itself. Definitely not like any of the porn I've ever seen. The porn stars were always shaved, and they had these neat, perfect pussies. Mom looked trimmed, but just barely. And between her legs, I was able to just make out two dark, hanging lips.

"Am I the first woman you've seen naked?"

The question ripped my eyes away from my mother's labia, and up to her eyes. She actually looked nervous.

"Yes," I said in an abnormally high pitched squeak.

"I hope it's not a disappointment."

"It's perfect. You're perfect."

The smile returned to her face, and an intense warmth filled me. Seeing her smile that way at me made my heart beat a million times a second. My pants were stretched so tight they hurt.

What was going to happen now? I was sure that if I weren't a pathetic loser, this was the moment where I'd stand up, bend her over, and fuck her like a real man.

"Do you want to touch me?" Mom asked, as if she had been reading my thoughts.

"Yes."

She sat back down on the couch, and then swung her legs up. Her breasts seemed to deflate somewhat. She wiggled her body left and right, until she settled into a comfortable spot, with her knees bent.

And then her knees parted, and she spread her legs. My gaze was fixed between her legs. Her labia clung to each other. One of her knees touched the back rest of the sofa, but the other leg went further down. As it descended, her labia slowly peeled open, revealing bright pink flesh.

"Go on," she encouraged.

My fingers were shaking. I had pictured this moment in my head a million times over. I've fantasized about it for hours, and hours. Her pussy was a lot wetter, and warmer than I imagined. I dragged my fingertip across the ripples of her lips, and Mom let out a soft moan.

I slipped my index finger inside of her, and the walls of her vagina welcomed me with a squeeze.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you want to use something other than a finger?"

"Like wha—oh! Is that... possible?"

Mom laughed gently, and I pulled my finger out.

"Of course it's possible, sweetie."

"I mean... can we? Me, with you?"

"Are you scared?"

"Yes."

"Don't be. I want to do this for you, Thom. I know that things can be quite... intimidating the first time, but I promise you that I've already seen pretty much everything there is. You don't have to worry about anything. Now take off your clothes."

I got up, and my knees were so weak, I almost fell back down. My hands were shaking, and I barely managed to undo the buttons on my slacks. The hot, dry heat emanating from the firepit felt great on my naked skin. My cock yearned for freedom, and with one smooth motion, I released it from its cage.

"Oh, wow," Mom gasped.

My heart lurched.

"What?"

"It's... bigger than I expected."

"But you saw it yesterday."

"Yeah, but you were sitting, and I was drunk, and..."

"I'm sorry."

Mom laughed.

"You don't have to apologize, it's a good thing. Now your shirt."

I pulled my shirt over my head so quickly, my chin got caught, and a button popped off. It hit the surface of the table with a ping. My cock throbbed with anticipation. Mom was still lying there on the couch. Naked. Legs spread. Her perfect, hair pussy between her legs.

Mom reached out, and grabbed my hand. She pulled me down on the couch, and it was like she was in charge of my body. She guided me on my knees, between her legs. She didn't say anything at all. There wasn't a need for words anymore. She smiled at me, with that same warm smile that made the heart in my chest roar.

I knelt between her legs, and my aching penis stood out like a mighty spear. I measured it once, it was six and three quarter inches.

Mom let go of my hand, and I knew that I was in control of myself now. This was my job, and only mine.

I braced my hands next to her midriff, and carefully lowered myself. My cock poked the soft fur above her pussy. My balls touched the wet folds. I nearly came to the thought of my dick being so close.

With one hand, I guided the tip to the entrance. Wet, warm, and welcoming. I closed my eyes, and pushed in.

Angels appeared out of thin air. An entire fleet of winged cherubs. They had trumpets, and harps, and all around me, they played a fanfare. Celebration everywhere. The moon shone a little brighter, and the fire roared hotter. The angels started singing, harmonious and cheerful.