I'll Be Home For Christmas

They kept going. George had long since ascended past and left behind the part of himself to which this demonstration felt bizarre and uncomfortable. He found himself being unable to believe he had been so resistant. He moaned, he groaned...he whimpered, he croaked...he laughed, he cried. Always innovative and inventive as her mind was, Lola was constantly thinking of other things to make the whole act more fun and intense when suddenly, again, inspiration struck.

"Oh my God," she said to Amy mischievously, "Oh my God!"

Sensing she had come up with another errand, Amy said, "No, no, no! Whatever it is, YOU get it!"

"I will, I will!" said Lola. "Amy, do me a favor and stroke his dick for me for a minute, would you? I'll be right back!"

"Okay!" Amy perked up, jumping at the chance to feel the penis for herself. "What is it?"

"I'll show ya in a minute!" said Lola, dashing out. Amy gladly took over stroking George's penis with her left hand—not an igniting rev on it with the rapid hand-hug motion Lola was giving it, but more intimately petting it, smoothing her fingers over and down its slippery slope. The feel of it made her shiver with zeal inside. She felt salivation generate, and swallowed. She wanted to put it in her mouth, but of course not slicked with massaging oil. She thought they should take George somewhere he could take a nice shower at some later point, and made a mental note to herself to then kindly ask for permission to suck his cock. Actually, she couldn't wait to ask for permission to suck his cock. In another minute, Lola ran back in, wearing a Santa Claus hat on her head and holding another one in her hand. "Ta-da!" They were being used as holiday decoration around their working quarters. "How funny is this?!" she laughed. She put the other one on Amy's head. "Santa's naughty little helpers!" she giggled.

Amy felt a little silly handling a man's genitals with a Santa hat on, but she saw that was the whole fun of it for Lola. It occurred to her that to a sexual person who loved Christmas, this would spell major kinky. And hot. "Lola, you are so weird," she remarked.

"You think that's weird?" she asked. "Look what I got out of your purse. Here, here, tickle his balls with this." She showed Amy the other object in her hand.

Amy looked at her incredulously. The sight brought her a good little way back to her senses. She halted petting George's genitalia in mid-stroke. "Are you crazy, Lolly?? That's my electric toothbrush!" she disbelievingly shrilled.

"I'll buy ya a new one!" snapped Lola within one tenth of a second. "TRUST ME, Ames, DO it. Trust me, I saw a chick do it to this dude in a movie once. It drove him freaking crazy!"

"Lola, you're sick!" she laughed.

"I know I know I know I know I know, just do it!" Lola commanded. "Just watch the reaction it gets."

"But, what if it really tickles him?" Amy wanted to know.

"Then just stop. But it won't! Now do it already!" Lola said.

"All right! Geez!" said Amy. She activated the toothbrush, as Lola resumed her rhythmic hand-hugging, and slowly, lightly touched it to his testicles.

The response indeed proved nothing short of immense. The jolt coursed through George's entire body, and he almost leapt right out of his skin. His moans graduated to sharp, booming cries of ecstasy, electricity-crackling shouts of delirium. This action provoked George to create a new sound for the word 'insanity.' He roughly gripped the armrests of the chair, squeezing the ends of his fingers white as the outside snow. A little more intensity and he would have ripped the upholstery right out. His body jerked and spastically thrashed uncontrollably. Amy and Lola had to raise themselves up on their knees and grope harder just to hold on to him.

"OH my GOD!" Amy laughed exultingly, holding the toothbrush on him, watching this fireworks show and wetting herself.

"I TOLD you!" Lola roared back at her.

"Lolly, what if someone hears us?!" shouted Amy.

"Ames, the building is closed, remember?!" Lola shouted back.

The light clicked on above her head. "Oh yeah." She would have slapped herself in the forehead had her hands not been occupied. "Loll," she shouted again, "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but...this is really, really FUN!"

"I know, right?!" Lola sputtered out, laughing so hard she couldn't contain herself. It looked to her like she was going to make him climax before too much longer. Suddenly she stopped laughing with a gasp as she remembered—the whole reason they were doing this in the first place!

"Oh, God! Amy, get the cup ready!"

Amy gasped herself at the same realization. She looked around for it. Where did she put it?

"Hurry up, Ames, I think he's gonna blow!"

Amy looked around for it frantically. She put it right there on the floor, beside her! Didn't she? DIDN'T she??

"A-MY, this dick feels like a friggin' volcano in my hand! I cannot stop it! Get, the damn, cup!"

Forcing her libido to momentarily behave itself, Amy dropped the toothbrush. She looked around the corner of the chair. Ah! There it was! That was right, she had kicked it over there by mistake and forgotten to retrieve it. She stretched her arm out as far as she could, just nipping the side of the cup, but not quite far enough to grab it. She pulled her whole body a few inches closer, finally grasped the cup, pulled herself back up and around to Lola's oil-caked hand pumping George's throbbing penis like a Super Soaker, held the cup to just under the glans, almost dropped it, kept her hands steady...

And not one nanosecond too soon. The instant Amy touched the lip of the cup to him, it was as if a vacuum attached to his urethra and vehemently sucked him dry, draining his testicles spurt by spurt by viscous spurt. To all three of them, it was glorious. They could almost see it happening in slow motion and hear it cue the majestic music, ornamented with the Christmas bells and angelically singing voices...

"O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!..."

A couple seconds after he started coming into the cup, Amy remembered the toothbrush. Not knowing if it would still have any more of an effect at this point, she nevertheless jolted his balls with it again as Lola's now exhausted hand kept milking him on and on, and it did seem to keep the ejaculation going longer than she expected. At last he wound down, his consciousness temporarily shut off, and he deflated in Lola's fingers. Lola and Amy let out a unisonous, "Whew!" What relief!

"YAY!" cheered Lola. "We did it!!"

"DAMN!" exhaled Amy dizzily, feeling like she was about to fall over. Her heart was thundering through her chest. She thought she was wound up before, but when she saw their prize shoot from that penis, over and over again, she just about lost her mind. "Maybe you should take this," she said, handing the cup to Lola. "I think I...have to go to the ladies' room for a minute..."

She got to her feet, made her way to the door, got out of Lola's line of sight, and immediately shoved her hand under her panties, thanking God there was nobody else around. Inside her head, she heard her vagina beeping like a metal detector in a satellite dish.

So THIS is why the guys are in there alone, she thought, hurrying into the closest restroom stall, deliriously rubbing herself.

***

A little while later, it was just about 7:00. The party was over—so to speak—the computer had been booted up and sample number thirty was soon to be processed through. Four female hands, one penis and one vagina had been toweled off. And one electric toothbrush had been properly disposed of.

George indeed passed out for a few minutes, but when he came to, he found that he had been redressed. They waited for him to wake up. He looked up to see the two of them standing on either side of the chair. They were no longer wearing the Santa hats.

"Am I..." He looked back and forth between them. "...okay?"

They put their hands on his shoulders. "You're just fine, George," Lola assured him. "Your hands aren't chunks of ice with fingers anymore, you don't have snow in your hair or a nose like a cherry, and your balls are good and empty. So you've gotta be feeling calmer and better now." She gave him a little rub on his shoulder blade and his neck. "You hungry?"

"Oh," George leaned forward, trying to pick himself up out of the chair. "More than you could possibly imagine..."

"Me too!" said Amy. "And I will be so ready to get outta here, just as soon as I take care of one more little thing."

George turned to face her. "Uh-oh..." he mumbled.

Amy laughed. "No, no, George, it's nothing like that." Well, not right now, anyway. "You see, I'm processing your sample through our system like I was telling you, and I just need to know your last name."

George closed his eyes, dropped his head an inch and chuckled.

"What?" Amy and Lola asked simultaneously.

George reached around the back of his jeans to make sure his wallet was still there, and pulled it out. "You're never gonna believe me...I'm telling you, you'd never take my word for it. So here." He handed Amy his driver's license. Checking it out, Amy's eyebrows bounced up an inch and disbelief covered her face.

"You're right," she said, looking back up at him with a chuckle, "I don't believe it."

"What?" asked Lola. Amy handed her the license, provoking from within her a similar reaction. She looked back up at him as well.

"Carlin??"

He shrugged. "I told you."

"But...but...but..." Amy sputtered.

"...but...you're dead!" Lola declared, finishing the thought with a laugh.

He nodded. "I know it," he agreed. "Trust me, you would not believe the amount of reactions I've gotten just like that. Literally my whoooooole life. I do not understand what my parents could have been thinking." He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "Not many normal everyday folks have to say the words, 'NO, I'm not him!' ten times a day."

Lola and Amy looked at each other, neither of them knowing exactly what to say. Finally, Amy said, "Okay, well, I'll...just get this in the system." She stepped out of the room, and George was left with Lola.

She chuckled, and intertwined her arm with his. "Hey, y'know, if it's any consolation, I do have a bit of an idea how you feel," Lola told him. "I know it's nowhere near the same thing, but my name's Lola, and a lot of people I meet for the first time think it's really cute to go..." Gesturing with her unoccupied hand, imitating Barry Manilow, she sang, "'At the Copa, Copacabana!...' And if it's not that, it's, 'She walked up to me, and she asked me to dance, I asked her her name, in a dark brown voi...'" She let the lyrics trail off and shook her head much like George did just a minute before.

George chuckled. "It's okay, really, Lola," he said. "I'm well used to it by now."

"Aw!" It was now Lola's turn to be moved. "That's the first time you called me Lola!"

Amy dropped back in.

"Amy, George just called me Lola!" she joyfully announced.

Amy regarded her with a bizarre expression. "Congratulations...Lola..." she said, bewildered. She handed George back his license. "Thank you, Mr. C.," she said. ...for several things.

"Oh, wait a second, Ames," Lola said. "I think we owe him more than just that." She turned to George, taking him by both hands. "George, I admit it didn't seem like such a big deal before we, uh...y'know, did this whole thing, but...well, now that we have, and I've had a little time to think about it, I realize that not a lot of gentlemen would do what you just did for us."

Amy's eyebrows raised. "Um, actually, Lolly—"

Lola released one of George's hands to hold up and stop her. "Hush, Amy, will ya please, I'm trying to make a very nice speech to a very nice man here." Returning to George, she continued, "Now, I know, I know, you also didn't have much of a choice, and...that was kind of a devious thing we did, taking advantage of your not being able to go anywhere and all, but still, you didn't really have to actually go through with this for us. I mean, it's not as if we threatened your life or anything."

Amy piped up again. "Uh, yeah, but Lolly, we did kinda—"

Lola cut her off again, still just focusing on George. "But you still did! You sat there for us, and you let us touch you, and stroke your dick, and make you come, and you could have run at that point, you could have tried to boot us away, but you let us do what we did just for a little extra Christmas bonus. Again, how many dudes we've never met before would do something like that?"

"Lola, seriously, I'm telling you, th—"

"ALL I'm trying to say here, George..." paused Lola, giving him a sweet smile, "...is that you, are a very, very special person."

Amy smiled too. It had turned into quite a warm moment. She said, "Well, I won't argue with that."

George's expression dropped. "Yes, well, tell that to Clive Clopman," he said solemnly.

"Who?"

"My landlord."

The ladies' expressions changed back to disappointment again as they remembered all the details of his recent trauma.

Lola said, "Yeah...again, we really are so sorry you had to go through all that, but y'know what, we made you a promise to take you out to dinner and to put you up in a hotel room, and we are gonna stand by that promise." She motioned out the door. "So let's just take things one step at a time, and just go to dinner right now, and we'll talk about it, and we'll see what we can do for ya," she said.

Amy stayed put as they headed out the door. "Wait a minute," she said.

They stopped and turned around.

"Did you say...Clive Clopman?" asked Amy.

"Yeah, he's my landlord," George repeated.

Amy thought for a moment. Then something in her mind clicked, and she hurried out the door in front of them and went in a different direction. "Forgive me, guys, I know we're all starving, but I've just gotta check something out real quick here..." She booted up the computer again.

"What are you doing, Ames?" Lola asked wearily.

Not answering just yet at first, Amy opened the appropriate computer application and brought up the donor database. She used the "find" feature, typed in the name, and sure enough, the program directed her right to it. Clive Clopman.

"I knew it! I knew that name sounded familiar!" She clicked on the name's hyperlink, and the computer brought up his donor file with an array of his personal information. "November 28th. I remember this guy! Lola, you remember this? This really stuffy British guy, blonde, three-piece suit, kinda looked like a store mannequin?"

George chuckled dryly. "Yup, that's him."

"Oh, yeah," Lola scrunched up her face a bit, bringing back the details in her mind. "Yeah, yeah, he had some kind of...weird little story for us when he dropped in here, didn't he?"

"Oh, you bet," said Amy. "I'll never forget this story. He came in by himself, real sneaky, like he was up to something, I gave him his cup, and then later I happened to walk by while he was in the room, and I overheard him on his cell phone..."

"Right!" said Lola. "But that wasn't his wife he was talking to, was it?"

"Nope! 'Cause he said on the phone they just had to make sure his wife didn't find out."

"Oh, George!" Lola turned back to him. "George, listen to this, this is the best part! Tell him, Amy."

"So when he came back with the sample, I knew it wasn't directly my business, but it was bothering me, so I said may I ask what that phone conversation of yours was all about, and he got really nervous. He didn't want to tell me. But I had told Lola about it, so she came up to him and asked him about it too. And we didn't want to let him leave until we found out what was going on."

"Geez," said George. "What...was going on?"

"Turns out he was playing around on his wife. He had a girl on the side, and the girl was...well, kind of a psycho."

"To put it mildly," Amy added.

"She wanted to get pregnant, but she wanted him to be the father, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. She wanted him to have sex with her, but he didn't want to do it, so he thought he could get around everything by coming in here."

"You're kidding me!" said George. "That's...just...well, kinda disgusting."

"Right?" said Lola. "So he told us that it was really his business, and he'd work it out himself, and well, technically, according to our policies, we had to keep his sample and not throw it away, and just let him leave."

"Yeah, but I distinctly remember he said one more thing to us before he left," said Amy. "He asked us to please keep this confidential, because if his wife ever found out about it, she'd kill him."

Lola nodded. One second later, the light bulbs over both Amy's and Lola's heads lit up. Their eyebrows jumped, they turned back to each other, both with one word written across their faces: Eureka!

"Lolly," said Amy quietly, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Lola put her hands on the desk threateningly and pursed her lips together. "Where's the phone?!" she demanded.

Amy scribbled down the number and they hastened out into the waiting room. Amy put the phone up on the desk.

"Put it on speaker and let me handle it," Lola crossly ordered.

"All right, 555-2778," Amy dialed and pressed Send. George was about to ask what they were up to, but Amy quickly got up from the desk and took George's arm. She put her finger to her lips and led him over to sit down and watch Lola work her magic.

Three rings in, the phone was picked up. A male voice. A British male voice. "Yes?"

"Yes, hello, Mr. Clive, Clopman, please?" Lola said, drawing out the name.

"Speaking," the voice skeptically crackled through. "May I be of assistance?"

"You may," Lola said. She leaned against the desk. She was going to enjoy this. "Mr. Clopman, this is the cryobank in the greater downtown area calling, at 661 Kit Kat Street. If you recall, precisely three Fridays ago, on the afternoon of November the 28th, you paid us a visit. Do you happen to remember this visit, Mr. Clopman?"

"I...believe so," the voice said.

"Excellent. And do you, sir, happen to remember the...details attached to this particular visit?"

Pause. The voice came through the slightest bit quieter. "...I am reasonably certain I do remember those details, yes."

"Very good. Because, you see, this is where you may be of help to us. Mr. Clopman, may I ask you a personal question?"

"...Yes?"

"In the past three weeks since this visit, has your, uh, wife..." She paused for effect. "...been in any way informed of these details we are discussing right now?"

There was a silence which lasted several seconds. George looked at Amy, about to laugh, but she gently put a hand over his mouth, the index finger of the other to her lips again, thinking, Although I'd LIKE to put my hand on your—STOP it, Amy, you horn-dog!!

The voice returned. "She has not."

"And if I remember accurately, Mr. Clopman..." Oh, Lola was liking this, George and Amy could tell. "...you were really quite emphatic in your desire that your wife should absolutely not become abreast of said details, were you not?"

Another short silence. The voice jumped over a couple of lines, to the next segment of the conversation. Mr. Clive Clopman said, "...Yes, well, now, would it appear that we've a bit of a blackmail situation on our hands?"

"Oh, you know, Mr. Clopman, I really don't care for the word 'blackmail.' You see, I'd rather think of it as a little...favor exchange, if you gather my inference..."