Mrs. Reid's Curious Christmas Vacation

Hello Readers!

I introduced the Reids in my Halloween contest submission. Enough people expressed interest and or confusion that I thought I would write a Christmas special. It should answer some questions about them and give you holiday cheer. I might write more about them down the road, but I'm not planning on making it a big series or anything. Please remember to vote and leave comments!

Disclaimer: Everyone getting some is over 18 and happy with what they're getting.

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Mrs. Reid strolled up Hill Street, wishing she had worn more than her red and white Christmas sweater as the wind bit in harder at the crest of the hill. It made her readjust her cute little Santa's hat. She loved walking on her street in winter, when the tourists were distant memories and the fine old Victorian houses were decorated for Christmas. No snow yet, but if you didn't like the weather in Missouri, just wait a few hours. A few houses down from her own, she walked up the cobblestone path to her friend's Italianate home, singing 'Jingle Bells' under her breath. Cathy came to the door soon after she rang it. "Hello! Merry Christmas!"

Cathy invited her into the foyer of the old house to get warm. They had a lovely old house, but she couldn't help noticing the furniture was all modern, chintzy, and didn't really match the house. Jen poked through her oversized bag, bulging with items. "Here's a little something for your family," she said, producing a pint of homemade blackberry jam, and a loaf of sweet bread. "Oh, you shouldn't have honey! Thank you! I better keep that jam away from Gary, or he might leave me for you!"

"Don't worry, I don't want him. I got my hands full with Dennis. He's my horny little Devil!" Their grins became uneasy. Jennifer looked around the empty house cautiously. "How's that going, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Not great." Cathy motioned her neighbor outside, then lit up a cigarette on her own front stoop and breathed it out. "I tried everything, short of pulling the breaker box so the power goes out. He won't stop watching porn. He's on his computer every fucking day. He said it's nothing personal, I just don't do it for him anymore." She took another drag.

"That sounds pretty personal to me. You look like you're at the end of your rope with him. I'm so sorry. Holidays can be really stressful, even without that."

"No shit. Hey, um, I know I kinda crapped on your suggestion earlier, but .. that thing you said you could make? Could you still do it?"

Jen smiled so her dimples showed and nodded. "You sure you want to try it?"

"At this point, I'd ride a goat naked through the living room to get his attention. How long does it take to make a pentagon?"

"Pentagram, actually. And ... I hope you don't hate me, but I had a feeling you were going to need it. So .. I already made one." She dipped back into her bag, producing a wreath about as big across as her hand. Made of green vines with white berries, the ring encircled a five pointed star. "And again, this isn't satanic or anything. Most people don't know this, but the planet Venus does this in the sky," she drew a star pattern in the air with her finger. "Every five years. That's why the pentagram is the symbol for Venus, who is a fertility and love Goddess. The Church made it satanic later."

"We have to go to trivia night some time. Cool cool. What else do you need?"

"A few strands of your hair, and that lace we talked about." Cathy tossed her smoke into the bushes and nodded for her to come back inside. She ran upstairs and soon came back with several feet of ragged lace. "This enough?"

"More than enough." They went into the kitchen. First they wove some of her hair into the coils of mistletoe. Then Jen showed her friend how to wrap the remnant of lace torn from her wedding gown around the pentagram, binding it into knots.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be desperate, making an actual love spell."

"Hey, he started it. And as long as he comes back to you, who cares, right? That's it. Finished. Now, this will have some effect just because you made it, but for max effect, it needs to be close to where he, uh, does his thing," she made a jacking motion with her hand. Cathy rolled her eyes. "The den. This way." They ended up concealing the chastity pentagram right under his office chair. "There. Now, that close to his junk, he won't have a chance. Porn won't even get him hard now, much less satisfy him. Only one thing will satisfy his horniness: you. Careful what you wish for though. You need to be available for him as a sexual outlet, otherwise he's gonna get real frustrated. Don't punish him with it. That's not what it's for. Bring him back with it."

"Like I said, I'll try anything. Thanks, neighbor," she said, hugging her goodbye and waving as Jen left and went down the street, delivering baked goodies and homemade preserves to all the neighbors. If anybody could actually hear the words to the carols she was singing, they would be surprised.

"Jingle Balls, lick them all, till they whine and beg... Hi Mr. Blackwell! Merry Christmas!" The old man waved back as she crossed the street. "Beg and plead, for dick relief, till cum drips down their leg, oh..."

Her next door neighbor's yard was a riot of inflatable plastic. A dozen large, cheap decorations were set up, with no thought to presentation or an overall theme. Thoughts of needles popping in the night went through her mind. She rang the bell, twice, and eventually a sleepy young man dressed in T shirt and boxers opened the door.

"Merry Christmas Martin! Is your Mom or Dad home?"

"Dad's at work. Mom's out shopping." He ran a hand through messy long hair. Long silence, like he didn't know what to do with an actual guest. "I was just dropping off a bottle of Christmas mead for your folks." She produced a golden yellow bottle from her bag. "What's mead?"

"It's like wine, only made from honey. Dennis makes it by the gallon. Say, I don't suppose you'd let me in for a sec? It's pretty cold to be standing out here in your underwear, right?"

"Yeah, okay." He let her in, and they went to the kitchen, where she put the mead on the counter. "I guess you're off work today then? How's that going?"

"I go in at four. Sokay."

"How's it going with the girl, what's her name? Betsy?"

"Becky. She still works there. I haven't actually asked her out yet, I guess."

She wagged a finger at him. "Now, we talked about this, Martin. Confidence. It's all about the confidence. You're a fine looking young man. A grown man, almost 21. No reason she wouldn't want to be with you. Have you been listening to that audio file I made for you? Does it help?"

He fidgeted. "I listen to it, but, it doesn't make me more confident, it just makes me ..."

She stepped closer, made him tilt his head up so he would look him in her bright green eyes. "How does it make you feel, Martin? Tell me the truth."

"Horny." She smiled at him and patted his cheek. "I'm sure it does. You remember when I caught you spying on me in the backyard last summer? I didn't get mad. I was flattered. I said we could be friends. Friends help each other, and keep each other's secrets. Tell me the truth. Have you told anybody about me?" He looked off to the side. "Nope."

Her expression grew hard. "Martin, you're lying. Come clean. Come on."

"Okay, I told a couple of my friends, but just that my neighbor was hot, and I saw her laying out naked sunbathing, and you played with yourself. That's all."

She folded her arms across her full chest. "I believe you. And thanks for saying I was hot. But I didn't play with myself when you spied on me." He shrugged. "Sounded better that way. I didn't say anything else, swear to God."

She dismissed his oath with her hand. "Don't bother with Him. I know when you've been bad or good, remember?" She pointed at her cute fuzzy Santa cap, grinning. "Here, sit down. I'm going to help you, because I know you kept my secret. Close your eyes." She stood behind him in the kitchen, rubbing his temples through his thick dark hair.

"What are you doing?"

"Boosting your confidence. The audio just doesn't quite do it justice. Lean your head back, relax." The short little housewife next door began to massage his shoulders, neck and scalp. The back of his head rested comfortably between her soft, full breasts. She began to whisper into his ears, first one side, then the other.

Martin. You are a confident, powerful man. Being a Man makes you strong and powerful. You have strength that women are instinctively attracted to.

Becky is attracted to you. All women at a base level need a man. The way you need women. Your manhood is strength and power. Women want to feel your strength. Becky wants to feel your manhood. Becky wants to submit to your male energy.

The whispers in his ears grew faster. There was something about her voice. It was sexy, low, had a weird echoey quality as she whispered faster. Her voice drove its way into his mind. Somehow it sounded like she could whisper in both ears at the same time, almost. It was getting him hard. She paused in her massage. "My, it is getting warm in here, isn't it?" A red and white sweater dropped into his lap. "What the shit!" Slender fingers on both sides of his head forced him to look ahead. "Now now, no peeking, Martin. Remember what I told you about peeping Toms?"

"Kinda, yeah. They go blind."

She continued to massage his head, around his ears. It felt great. She guided his head back to the resting spot between her breasts. "That name comes from the story of Lady Godiva. Everybody knows she rode through a town naked. What most don't know is why. Her husband was the Earl of the town, and was taxing the people too much. She saw their need, and argued with her husband for a year to lighten up. Finally he made her a bet: He would charge less tax if she would ride naked and humiliated before the peasants she was trying to save. She was a proper, noble woman. He never thought she would agree."

She kept massaging his head, pulling it back rhythmically, pulling it back into her soft, comforting boobs. He was rock hard now. "She told the peasants what she was going to do, and why, and they all agreed not to watch. Every door and window was closed out of respect as she rode through silent streets. She was trying to save them. She was a hero. They should all have respected that. And they all did, except for that little fucker Tom. He peeped through the window. And for that, Peeping Tom was struck blind, because Godiva was also a witch." Her fingers pressed harder, so that her fingernails dug into his skull. She spoke into his ear with velvet steel. "So the moral of that story is, keep your disrespectful pervert eyes to yourself, because you never know if the woman you're spying on is a witch who can burn out your retinas. Let's give you a test." He felt her moving behind him, and then a bra landed at his feet. Red, lacy, with full cups.

"Oh shit!"

"Oh shit is right, neighbor. Close your eyes. Keep them closed." She kissed one of his cheeks, then the other. "You keep them shut the whole time. Don't you dare peep. I'll know if you did." She slid around him, straddling his lap as he sat on the kitchen chair. He could smell her. Her bare skin smelled like apple pie. She massaged his scalp and neck again, and went back to her strange, encouraging whispers:

Your cock is your strength. Your cock is hard and strong. Women want your strength. Becky wants your strength. She wants it inside her. I want your strength. I want your cock. Your cock wants to be inside a woman. Your cock wants to be inside me.

He was rock hard. He put his hands on her hips, trying to rub her against him, even with boxers and sweater in the way. She slapped him away. "Play nice. Sit on your hands and listen." She kept whispering in his ears, alternating faster, her movements causing her tits to brush against his face, just barely, teasingly, more and more.

Your cock is your strength. It feels good when it's hard. Women like to feel a hard cock. Becky likes to feel a hard cock. I like to feel a hard cock. I want to feel it everywhere. Your cock belongs in my mouth. It should be rubbed on my skin. Your powerful come should be rubbed on my skin. My hands, my chest, my face. Most of all it belongs in my pussy. Your cock is fine and strong Martin. You should shove that dick deep inside a woman where it belongs. Give it to Becky. Give her that good hard cock. Think about fucking your new girlfriend Becky for the first time. See it. Smell her wetness. She welcomes you inside her. She wants you to come inside her. You will make her feel such pleasure. Feel it Martin. Feel her pussy tight around your cock. Come for her. Come now Martin.

Her voice was incredible. The whispers in both ears began to sound like two separate voices, then like four. His hardon raged, his hips thrust, and as she pressed his face into her tits, motorboating him, he came in his shorts. The feel of her breasts, so soft, so warm, smelling so good, filled him as he messed himself. He grunted into her chest and she held him tight, rocking him through his orgasm as she slowed down her whispers.

"Well, that was fun." She gave him a gentle squeeze through the sweater on his lap, then put it back on. There was a little come on it. His boxers had a big wet spot. She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You can open your eyes now, sweetheart. Good job!" He watched her pick up her red bra and casually stuff it into her bag of presents. "Now, you go and direct some of that strong male energy to Becky. I think she will be open to your suggestions. And No. More. Spying." She bopped his nose with a finger with each word. "Tell your Mom I stopped by! Merry Christmas!" Leaving her neighbor's son in a daze, she happily hummed as she cut through the crowd of crappy inflatables in the yard to her fine old house. "Let every heart, prepare some rooms, so Jesus can stay for free, so Jesus can stay for free.."

She eyed her home appreciatively as she went up the walk. The Queen Anne had a lovely turret on her left hand side, and a wrap around porch with fantastic craftsman railings. She had decorated simply, with a string of green garland hanging from the white picket fence, and a bit more wrapped around the entry columns on the porch. That and a candle light in every window was all the decoration the fine old painted lady needed. She checked the little green mailbox in the yard, attached to the Enchanted Garden Bed and Breakfast sign. She collected four dollar bills from it. Smiling, she went into her home.

She found Dennis in the study. He sat at the thick walnut desk massaging the bridge of his nose. He was looking over their finances. "The Thompsons just canceled."

"Oh no! All of them?"

He nodded, putting his glasses back on. "All three couples. Weather says there's an ice storm shaping up for Sunday. They didn't want to be caught driving back in it. So, refunds all around." She went over and gave her husband a big hug. "I'm sorry, honey. I know you were looking forward to them. I like them, too."

"I like their money better. That's nine hundred we were counting on that isn't coming. December's looking pretty damn bleak. January doesn't look much better."

She sat on the edge of the desk, kicking the drawers with her heels. "That happened last year though, right? November was good, and February's always good around Valentine's Day."

He leaned back in the chair, defeated. "Bookings were down this fall. Winter looks terrible. Add to that the bathroom repairs in Lavender, and us going a little overboard on Christmas ... I'm not saying we can't make it, but it's going to be damn tight. Damn tight. We suck at this bed and breakfast thing."

"It's only our second year doing this, babe. We agreed we wanted something classy but lowkey to settle down with." Jen showed her husband the dollar bills from the mailbox "See, I disagree. I take this as a sign. I'm feeling really positive. I Know our finances are going to turn around. Just have faith."

"Wait, you know it, or you Know it?"

"Know it," she said confidently. She kicked him playfully. "Come on, babe. It's Christmas! It's a season for miracles!"

The doorbell rang. A lot. "Quit leaning on my fucking bell," menaced Dennis as he got up and jogged for the front door. Opening it, he met two young men standing on his porch. "May I help you gentlemen?"

The skinny one with blond, spiky hair like Eminem sniffed and looked out on the street. "Uhh. Yeah. We want a room. Well, we both want one, I guess. We want the, uh, executive package." Dennis inventoried them quickly with a practiced eye. Two hundred dollar fresh sneakers. Armani jacket. Six grand Bulova on Eminem's wrist. Two grand on that gold necklace. Sidekick's Rolex is two grand, necklace maybe a grand. So sidekick. He looked out at the street. Late model Range Rover. Modified.

"Hello there!" Jenny bubbled from behind her husband, coming around him out on to the porch. "I'm Jennifer, and this is my husband Dennis. And you are ..?"

"Not impressed," said the taller sidekick, eyeballing Mrs. Reid over the top of his wraparound sunglasses. "Bro. I thought you said she looked like Lily from the AT&T commercials."

The blond guy shrugged. "That's what I was told, bro."

"Lily from AT&T's Moms, maybe."

Dennis stepped up a half step. "I think you two have the wrong house. You should leave."

"Whoa, easy now, Mr. Reid," Eminem said, holding up his hands to him. "We got off on the wrong foot here. I'm Will, and this is my friend Andre. Your establishment came highly recommended. Highly recommended. My great Uncle Auggie sent us up here. He said this would be the perfect place for us to crash for a while. We couldn't find your number, so we just thought we'd swing on by. This is Enchanted Gardens, right?" He leaned back to read the sign in the yard.

Jen squinted her eyes in thought. "Wait. Uncle Auggie. You wouldn't happen to be from St. Louis, then?"

Will tapped his temple. "Now you're getting it. Yeah, we've been in the STL the whole time. So, you gonna let us in or what?"

Dennis folded his arms and scowled through his beard. "That remains to be seen. We were getting set to close up for the holidays. Looking forward to some down time."

"Now, darling, let's not be hasty," his wife said, patting his meaty forearm. "After all, any friend of Uncle Auggie? From St. Louis?"

"Ah. Still don't know that I care yet. How long would you two be staying?"

Andre stretched, popping his lean, athletic arms as he twisted. "Till the sixth."

Dennis' eyes popped out. "Sixth of January? That's three full weeks! Through Christmas as well? No, sorry boys, I don't think we can help you. There's a nice Red Roof out on the highway."

"Nah, that's not gonna fly," said Andre, waving his hand and stepping up. "See, my boy here, he's got himself into a little situation. Show em, Willy." Will kicked up his track suit pants, showing an ankle bracelet monitor.

"See, Will's got himself into another misunderstanding with the judicial system. I'm sure the lawyers will straighten it all out, but that's not until his court date on the sixth. So, as part of his probation until then, he's got to be on lockdown somewhere. Originally it was going to be back at the old house in STL, but the folks got all into some drama about that. So, Uncle Auggie told us to go see Mrs. Reid here. Milf extraordinaire. Said you all would take care of us, keep us from going stir crazy. So, you got any other bitches up in here, or is it just you girl?"

"Watch your mouth. That's my wife."

Jen put a gently restraining hand on her husband. "So that explains why he's here. What about you? Are you his bodyguard or something?"