Once Upon a Christmas with Mommy

Note: despite the title, this is not a Mother-Son story.

This story continues directly after the events of Once Upon A Christmas With Daddy and involves an estranged couple and their newly returned adult daughter. I suggest you read the first one first, but the choice is yours. There is some strife and anger in the story, but also love and reconciliation. And there is graphic sex, both incestuous and non. All characters are fictional, solely the author's intellectual property, over 18 and remain fully adult during any and all roleplay and wordplay scenarios depicted.

*****

Four years ago.

I heard a crash and cabinet doors slamming. Coming from my kitchen, though I lived alone. Almost three in the morning. I pulled on shorts and grabbed a baseball bat.

The slamming continued. A woman cursed. I stepped into the kitchen entry. "Damn it, Priscilla, can I help you?"

She spun with a sneer ready. "Doesn't seem that way, does it?"

My 'wife' didn't seem too happy. Or sober. I sighed. "Looking for anything particular? If I knew what you were looking for in my cabinets, I might be able to direct you toward it."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She was pissy and pissed. "Direct me. Give orders. Everyone just doin' whatever you want, Mr. Director."

She actually did that head bob thing like a Real Housewife of Los Attitudes. This was a small sample of why I did not live or interact with my wife, Priscilla. Not the head bobs. The angry outbursts and cruel attacks aimed at me and, until Priscilla chased her away, our daughter Christi.

We each lived in separate halves of a large duplex we owned, and we still owned a car dealership together, one her father had started and we had expanded. We were still married. But this was the first in-person conversation, if you could call this conversing, we had held in almost a year. Weird, I know.

I saw a single key on a woven band on the counter. I didn't recognize it, though the key was the same brand as my locks. I snagged it off the granite surface.

"Hey! That's mine." Priscilla took a step toward me, reaching out. I wondered how she'd gotten in. She had sworn that all her keys to my side had been surrendered. Typical.

"If this key fits my lock, no, it's not yours. And I bet it does. Why are you in my kitchen, Priscilla? Why do you have this key? Do you know it's three in the morning?"

She backed up as I talked. "So many questions."

She crossed her arms and pouted. Then realization and shock hit her as she asked, wide eyed, revealing a flash of the old Priscilla, the girl I had fallen for so hard, so long ago. "Is it really after three?"

I nodded. Nobody asks that question that way unless they're pretty damn drunk. She must have been out for dinner, perhaps dancing; the dress she wore was made for it. A little black one, not totally form fitting, but showcasing her toned assets well. And make up. Maybe a little heavy handed around the eyes, but she looked damn good. I had thought she never went out anymore.

"What was the other questions?"

"Uh. Let me see. Why..."

Were." She corrected herself. "What were. Who cares? I'm not answering your director questions."

She pushed off the counter behind her and lurched for the key I had set beside me. I picked it back up before she was close.

"Nope. The key is mine now, Priscilla. I'll change the locks tomorrow anyhow. Guess I should have done that a year ago." I hadn't changed the locks in case Christi came back. If she still had her key, and I wasn't here, I wanted my only daughter to know this was still her home, anytime.

Here was Priscilla, once again, putting up another barrier between me and my daughter.

"Gonna change the locks, huh?" She was slurring. "Will that make you feel safe, scarety cat? Always gotta be in control. Probably why...whatshername left."

Before I had time to think, I was looming over her with my hand cocked back to slap her. After all the shit she pulled, she better not blame me for destroying our family and chasing away Christi. And calling our daughter "whatshername" added fuel to my anger. I held my hand, glared down at her.

My reaction finally gave her the response she wanted. "You gonna hit me?"

The sneer I had seen on her face when I first found her in the kitchen was back, bigger.

"You wanna slam me up against a wall and choke me, you bastard?" She shoved my chest with both little hands. Hard enough with the heel of both palms that it hurt. Her eyes shined bright.

"That right?" She continued. "You trade me in for a new model [another set of palms to my chest], steal my daughter from me [another], and now you're gonna beat me up, big man?"

The third shove was way over the line. If she had caught me higher like that it could have broken my nose or some teeth. As it was, my chest was going to be sore. Probably her hands would be too, when she sobered up.

I grabbed her by both arms, right above the elbow. Even with her still well-toned muscle, Priscilla was small enough my fingers wrapped entirely around her arms. I'm not sure how hard I shook her.

I pulled her face close to mine. I spoke slowly, enunciating clearly, trying to control the rage I felt. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Like you don't know? You fucking asshole!"

Her kick caught me in the shin. I stumbled back, off balance. My butt hit the floor sliding, with her on top of me, just before my head slammed into the sheetrock wall. I saw stars.

In an instant, Priscilla was on her knees straddling me on the floor. "Are you okay, Daddy? I didn't mean to..."

Her voice, a small, high pitched one I hadn't heard her use in many years, trailed off as she started to rain kisses on the top and side of my head.

Daddy? She used to call me that, back when we were trying to get pregnant, and when Christi had been a baby. For some reason she had stopped, about the time our daughter started walking and talking.

My head was clearing out the stars and fog. Rewinding what had happened, a detail popped out. My vision had been distracted, but I thought I recalled seeing a flash of bare, shaved flesh when Priscilla's short dress came up as she hopped down on my lap.

Not totally surprising, but funny what you forget about someone, living apart. She had started going 'commando' at my request when wearing dresses years ago. No panty or bra lines. I liked knowing her hot little body was hidden, but barely.

My very drunk estranged wife was now stroking my head, holding her cheek against my temple. Through her dress, I could feel one small, firm breast against my jaw.

I could feel the tiniest of shaking from her. Then she sniffled. Was she crying? Priscilla was not a crier. Slowly, unsure of the reaction I would get, I put my arms around her.

The shaking increased. And the sounds. Almost an actual sob. She was definitely crying. "I'm so sorry, Daddy."

It came out wet, muffled and full of despair. "Your little girl didn't mean to hurt you. Please forgive her, Daddy."

I wrapped my left arm further around her tiny runner's waist while my right hand slid up to massage her neck. I whispered. "It's okay, baby girl."

Little girl. Daddy. Baby girl. They took me back to those hungry, lusty, youthful days. She wanted me inside her, filling her with my seed, all the time. Me, her Daddy, filling my girl's belly with a baby. She seemed to crave an authority figure taking charge, taking her, allowing her the space to be the irresponsible one she had never permitted herself.

She had been so incredibly turned on by the idea, able for once to let go, at least in words. Even If she initiated it, I was the one getting her pregnant; I was the one emptying inside her, knocking her up. And I was always Daddy, or Papa, but she was never Mommy.

And that's how it worked out: I ended up being the active parent. Usually, the only actual parent. The more our daughter became a person, rather than just a wiggly, living doll, the less interest Priscilla showed in being a mother. And the meaner she became.

She pulled my head in closer to her and I felt the other breast too. She touched a very tender spot on my skull and I winced.

"Ow. Am I bleeding back there?" My voice no doubt must have sounded muffled to her. When I talked my cheeks moved against both her breasts, lodged as I was between them.

"No blood on the wall." She sniffled. I winced again as she pressed her fingers on the spot. I imagined her examining them. She pressed again and I winced harder.

"Hey!"

"And none on your head."

She took each side of my head in a hand and kissed the very top, like a blessing. Then her arms went around me again, careful to stay below the tender spot this time. Again, she started to shake in my arms, crying almost silently.

What could I do? I hated her for years of cruel words and actions toward me and especially to our daughter, but I knew I hadn't married evil incarnate. She had a heart. She was just hurt somehow, or broken, only I didn't know how.

"It's okay." I whispered and stroked the back of her neck at the base of her skull.

She seemed to cry a little harder, or perhaps didn't hold back as much. So I simply held her.

I might have been still stunned a bit from the blow to the head, but I started thinking how nice it felt to hold a sweet little sexy woman, even if she happened to be the only person in the world I personally hated. It had been a long time.

I noticed how, while my arm was snaked around her narrow waist, my two lowest fingers were entirely on the swell of her small, very round bottom.

I became aware of that inside curve where each breast disappeared into the sternum, that sexy transitional area displayed and manipulated by push-up bras and bikinis for generations. One of Priscilla's special spots she loved me to lick and taste, and its mirror image, both inches from my lips right now, and hidden under her clinging dress.

Under my pinky finger, furthest down on her left hip, I thought I felt movement. One minuscule twitch.

I felt my cock flop to the side in my loose shorts as it started to fill. At least Priscilla wouldn't be able to feel me getting hard. She'd assume it was from the Daddy talk and wouldn't let me forget it.

I felt another twitch under my hand. And another. The movement was still very small, but definitely had the rhythm and motion of Priscilla humping her hips. On my lap, hugging me close, crying while she called me 'Daddy.'

My left hand betrayed me. Making decisions it had no business making, it slid down and outwards an inch or two, onto the full slope of her hip, tugging my arm into a tighter grip in her waist. As she humped toward me a third time, the traitorous fingers cupped her firm ass cheek and pulled it closer, encouraging her action.

"Daddy." It was almost not a word. It wasn't a sigh or a groan, either, but it was somewhere between those two, mixed with a pinch of questioning whine.

It brought me the rest of the way erect.

She started to ride me, taking my hand along with her. Held tight to her chest, I could feel her breath quicken. Then her thrusting brought her in contact with my now upraised cock, lifting the crotch of my shorts with it.

She gasped and stopped moving. Stopped moving while pressing her groin against me. Her fingers entwined with my hair on either side of my head as she pushed herself back to look down at me.

I looked up, the light a little too bright, either from having my face buried in her chest, or the impact with the wall. Her lips were parted and her eyes bright. She was very aroused. Black streaks ran down from both eyes, smeared on her cheeks.

Her voice was small.

"Is Daddy hard for his little girl?" She pushed harder against me, answering her own question.

"Daddy's girl is getting wet and slippery." She started the humping motion again, looking down at me, as she pressed her front teeth into her lower lip.

It had been almost a year since I had touched any woman, and now a beautiful woman, who knew every button I had to push, was pushing those buttons every way she could. Was she drunk? Probably. Did I hate her? Absolutely. But I'm not sure that those facts didn't add to my lust right then.

I released my right hand from her neck and slid it low between us. With no hesitation, I let it slide down her belly, past the skirt of her dress bunched around her squatting hips, and directly between her swollen shaved lips. I held her waist tight when she arched, her head back.

"Yes you are. You're a very slippery girl."

She pulled my face up and kissed me, hard and sloppy. As her tongue went past my lips and I felt her tear-streaked cheeks wet against me, I shoved two fingers into her. She screamed into my mouth.

As she screamed she humped her hips into my hand. I kissed her back, hungry and urgent. Finally, she pushed back from my lips and tongue, shuddering in a deep, ragged breath.

I looked up at her, face more smeared that ever, and pressed my thumb alongside the hood over her clit. Keeping my fingers inside her, I moved my thumb in circles just above.

Her eyes widened as her brows furrowed. "Daddy..."

She wasn't in control anymore. "You like that, little slut?"

"Uh huh." She answered. Her writhing hips answered the same.

"Tell me what you like."

"I..." She hesitated. "I...like Daddy's fingers...fucking me."

"Good girl." I swirled my thumb around her clit a little faster.

"Would you like anything else to fuck you, baby?"

"Yeeeesss."

"Tell me. Tell Daddy what you want." I let my fingers wander from inside her, to massage over her soaking lips. A slippery finger teased lightly over her tiny butthole before they slipped back into her. She looked like she might cry again.

"I want. I want Daddy to fuck his little girl. With his thingy."

"The finger thingy? I'm already doing that."

"Nooo, Daddy. Your...penis thingy."

"Say it."

"I want Daddy to fuck me with his penis." She smiled, relieved to have gotten it out.

"Call it a cock, sweetie. Call it a cock and ask me nicely."

She took a deep breath. "Please, Daddy. Please fuck your little girl with your big fat cock."

"Good girl." I wiggled my fingers as deeply into her as I could. I felt her body tensing. I unwrapped her waist, releasing her.

"Okay. Suck me first."

Her face showed open surprise but I ignored it. I reached into my own waistband and pulled my shorts down enough to free my cock. It sprung loose and upward.

"Come on. Suck it."

And she did. First she wiggled her hips back down past my knees. She leaned forward on both hands and took the head in her mouth. She immediately started to bob up and down on me, her ass held higher than her face.

I reached out and grabbed a handful of dress. Enough to pull it up and expose her ass and back as she swallowed my cock.

"Good girl."

She answered with a "Mmmm."

I could tell I wasn't going to last long, and didn't really want to. Part of me was disgusted with myself for not throwing the bitch out long ago. Part of me liked having her begging, groaning, and swallowing. A big part.

Again, I reached out. This time I stretched forward, my hand open, before I brought it down on her exposed ass cheek with a hard smack. Her head popped up off of me in surprise.

I didn't give a chance to protest. "Okay. That's enough. Turn around. It's time to fuck that little pussy."

She seemed confused as to what I wanted her to do.

"Turn around." I said it as though she was an idiot, or at least drunk. "On your knees."

She spun around, resting her head on crossed arms on the floor as she wiggled that fine little bottom my way. I could see she was open, as well as the shine of her juices on her thighs and crack. She certainly was doing what she was told after complaining about me being Mr. Director.

I pulled my shorts the rest of the way off and kneeled behind her. My breath was now ragged too. A long string glistened from the end of my cock where a drop of precum had fallen, stretching it behind. I grabbed my cock and dragged it up and past her slit. She pushed back, trying to get it inside.

I slapped at her clit with it from below and she moaned over the smacking wet sounds it made. I dragged the head harder over clit, opening lips, and then teasing the crack of her ass with her own juices.

With one hand, I lined the head up with her opening.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Daddy. Please fuck me. Please fuck me with that fat cock. I neeeed it, Daddy."

I wrapped my hand around the base, leaving the head and last couple inches of shaft sticking out beyond. "Push back on it, baby."

She did. I guided it in, but held myself still. Priscilla pushed back until the head slipped between her swollen lips, holding her open. I heard a low whine, but she pushed again.

She pulled back off of it and pushed back harder. I felt my cock opening her up again, then the wet smack as she met my hand. She pulled off again.

I let her fuck herself a few times before directing her. "All the way out now. And push back hard."

I felt my head slip all the way out of her. As it shoved back in I jerked my hand away. Her tiny body swallowed my whole length.

Priscilla cried out and buckled. She might have dropped off my cock and down flat on the floor if I hadn't caught her hips.

She was tiny, and limp in my hands. I still didn't move my hips, or not much. Instead I pistoned her little body back and forth on my cock, pulling her in tight as I filled her, then pushing her away, only to slam her back onto me again. I'm not sure if her knees were even touching the floor at that point.

At first she couldn't said no words. It was just a series of cries that went higher in pitch whenever I buried my cock back into her.

When I slowed a bit as I felt my balls tightening, she could finally speak.

"Do you like that? Do you like fucking your little girl?" It came out of her as a fast low whisper.

"I may regret it later, but yes. Yes, I like fucking you. Fucking you hard from behind."

"Oh, Daddy, yes. Such a bad Daddy doing his girl that way. Giving it to her for being such a naughty naughty girl."

My fingers dug into her ass and hips as I pulled her back up onto me with every thrust. Her dress had slid up to her shoulders, partly covering her face, exposing the side of one tit compressed into the mock wood floor. Her talk, my recent lack of sex, and the sight of her lean strong back arching below me had my balls tingling and my breath starting to get ragged.

"You gonna cum in your little girl, Daddy? You gonna knock me up? Please, Daddy, cum in your baby."

I groaned almost in pain. She knew I was about to burst.

"Yes, Daddy. Cum in your slutty little girl. Pump her full. Mark her, Daddy." A guttural cry escaped me with my first spasm into her.

"Yes! Fill your daughter up! Make Daddy's little girl your fucking slut." I watched her back flex and felt her start to convulse in orgasm.

I stopped mid thrust as her words sank in. Your daughter? 'Daddy' implied that, but we had never gone there in our roleplay, used that term.

"No! Don't stop now." Priscilla reached a hand blindly back toward me, pushed her pussy back onto my cock with a moan. "Fuck your girl, Daddy. You know you want to fuck your sexy slut of a daughter. Christi is here, Daddy, fuck her."

I pushed her off me, onto the floor. I was disgusted to see my last spray of cum landing on her splayed legs. Her hand was between those legs.

"Nooo. Why did you..."

I stopped her by grabbing her arm, hauling her to her feet with me. I was furious.

"That's what this all was? Some creepy accusation of incest?" I dragged her to the heavy double doors that provided the only interior connection between our two dwellings. Both were wide open. She stumbled when I half tossed her over the wide threshold. I had her secret key to mine now, but I'd still change the lock the next day. "Christi is not here, you treacherous bitch! She is not here because you're a miserable, bitter fragment of a person who lied to her family and tore them apart."