Decorating for Christmas

When I get near her soaked labia, I inhale deeply, taking in the perfect perfume of her arousal. I pause for a full five seconds, making her beg me to begin.

And then I'm off, flitting and fluttering and floating with my lips and tongue. Caring and caressing her thighs in my hands. Her moans heighten my own excitement, and I am soaked once more by the time she pulls me off some minutes later.

"Abigail," she says, looking me in the eyes. "I want to come together."

I meet her gaze. "How?"

"In your hand, and you in mine." She places my right hand down between her legs, and I take her left between my own. We watch each other the entire time, not saying a word, keeping our eyes open. I can't help it, I am so happy I begin to cry, and she gives the warmest smile at my tears.

When we come, we come hard, rocking onto each other's palms, not trying to hold back the volume of our moans. We hold each other, naked, for a long time after.

"Alexa," I tell her, minutes or hours or days after the fact. "I think I'm in love with you."

"I know," she says, quietly. "I feel it, too." And as the bell tower on campus strikes midnight, hailing in the best Christmas I can think of, I don't know what else to wish for.

"Maybe just this," she says, answering my unvoiced thoughts. And she leans in for a kiss.