tagErotic HorrorThe Perfect Gift

The Perfect Gift


Santa shoved the last rectangular gift box into the big red bag he carried as the front door to the living room opened.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HAROLD?!!" Betty Emerson had come home from a long day of fighting the lines at the mall shopping for Christmas gifts for a get together with family and friends. She walked into her modest home to find her husband violently stuffing all the gifts under the tree into a garbage bag.

"ASK YOUR FUCKING SON BETTY; HE GOT SUSPENDED AGAIN!!" Harold had enough of the pudgy, trouble-prone kid sometimes even doubting if the boy was biologically his. The boy had his father's blond hair and that was it with everything else stuffed into an overweight, brooding package.


"THAT FUCKING KID'S A PERVERT; HE WAS CAUGHT WITH VIDEOS OF UPSKIRTS ON SOME OF HIS CLASSMATES-HE'S BEEN EXPELLED!!" Her heart jumped into her throat as she watched her husband sling the bag over his shoulder. She remembered that he'd been finagled into playing Santa for his company office party.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting rid of these fucking toys because he doesn't deserve any of them; maybe I'll take them down to a homeless shelter and give them to some orphans." Betty grabbed his shoulders shaking the portly man like a woman possessed.

"ARE YOU CRAZY; YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY I SPENT ON THAT SHIT?!!" Harry had enough of his wife's coddling of their son and was intent on teaching the spoiled boy a lesson.


"BUT I PAID GOOD MONEY FOR THAT STUFF HAROLD!!" He stopped in his tracks to take a good look at his wife of seventeen odd years. Betty Emerson was the visual epitome of a suburban housewife from the top of her blonde pixie cut to the sensible shoes on her manicured feet. She wore a thick pair of wire frame granny glasses on her circular face that made her appear older than her thirty-four years. Over the years Betty had shied away from regular gym visits earning herself a dumpy, slightly pearish shape. He always loved her huge 36 DD's making it a point to fuck and jizz all over them on a regular basis until Betty had threatened him with marriage counseling for his deviant urges. The couple were lucky if they even had sex once a week. Things had tapered off as she'd lost herself in the mundane idiosyncrasies of everyday life as a housewife and mother of two. Their college age daughter had already begged off family activities in favor of a snowboarding vacation with her boyfriend Mike.

"This is not what Christmas is supposed to be Betty; it's supposed to be about love and family. Our son Chris takes everything for granted from the clothes on his back to the food that he eats. What are we teaching him if we let him have these undeserved gifts?" He spoke from the heart for the first time in years not sure where his emotion was stemming from.

"I'll talk to him and maybe; ground him for the weekend; just put the stuff back under the tree. Don't ruin Christmas Harold."


"FUCK YOU HAROLD!!" She really hadn't meant to curse but he was disturbing her image of what the holiday should be. Betty had always made sure that the house looked perfect on Christmas and here was her husband threatening the status quo with some pretentious reason. Betty never told anyone of the "less than perfect" holidays ruined by her alcoholic father. Sometimes he'd get so toasted that he didn't know who or where he was. This had resulted in an unfortunate incident that few outside of her immediate family were aware.

"You know Betty, I wish you'd fuck me sometimes but you're too busy obsessing over meaningless commercial bullshit. I'll see you later."

"Harold if you take those gifts out of this house it'll be a cold day in hell before you get some of this!" She placed her hands under her large breasts bouncing them for emphasis.

"Promises, promises." He slammed the door as he left dragging the large sack down the snow covered steps leaving her to stare at her barren Christmas tree. It looked truly naked with the foot of gifts that circled it formerly. Moments later her troublesome son lumbered down the stairs dragging a large sleigh behind him and ripping up the red carpeting she'd draped along the stairs.

"Mom, I'm going sledding with some of the fellas to clear my head; dad really embarrassed me at school today!" The cumbersome preteen knocked a flower arrangement off of a table at the bottom of the stairs


"Sorry mom; you shouldn't have put all this shit on the stairs anyhow."

"But that's where we put the milk and saucer of cookies for Santa." Betty had followed her own borderline psychotic protocol for years following some unseen rule book as she over decorated her home.

"Mom, there's no such thing as fucking Santa Claus geez." He face-palmed as she feverishly righted the table arrangement.

"Language mister or you're going into time out!" He chuckled as he peered into the living room.

"HOLY SHIT; WE'VE BEEN ROBBED!!" The pudgy little fellow bolted into the living room staring in horror at the empty space under the tree before bolting down the hall to the kitchen and snatching the phone off the wall. He would have called the police if not for his mother yanking the receiver out of his grasp.

"Your father took all of the gifts Christian."


"Because you got in trouble at school and he wanted to "Teach you a Lesson" about being naughty." Betty always mocked her husband's voice when he wasn't around. She preferred the friend approach to parenting with predictable and disastrous results.

"WHY'D YOU LET HIM DO THAT SHIT MOM?!! IT'S FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!" The bawling teen was already sloppily chomping on a pile of gingerbread men that were cooling on a cookie sheet. The sight of her dumpy, spoiled child's despair tugged at her heartstrings.

"Everything's going to be okay son; don't you worry about a thing." She tried to reassure her child who'd removed a carton of eggnog from the fridge which he chugged until he coughed. He had this sort of annoying, bleating cry that made any sane person want to scratch their eyes out.

"Did he take my Play Station Gold-Special Edition?"

"Well; yeah son..."

"OOOOOOHHHH SHIT THAT'S FUCKED UP MOM; THAT'S A COMPLETE AND TOTAL DICK MOVE!!" Christian punctuated his outcry by spiking the carton on the linoleum floor. He went full blown tantrum knocking some of the cookies and other entrees around on the counter before repeatedly slamming the cabinet doors.

"CALM DOWN BABY; I'LL FIX IT I PROMISE!!" At this point he sounded as if he were hyperventilating and slowly faux-collapsed to the floor into a pathetic whimpering mass.

"MOOOOMMMY, DADDY HATES ME!!" Betty knelt on the cookie littered linoleum floor cradling her son in her arms smashing his circular head between her huge boobs. His entire face was reddened and glistening with tears.

"No he doesn't; he loves you very much." She kissed his cheek and forehead tasting his salty sweat and tears.

"BUT HE TOOK MY STUFF MOMMY; HE WANTS ME TO DIE ON CHRISTMAS!!" Christian had manufactured a distressed, forlorn look on his face designed for maximum emotional manipulation.

"NO BABY; I WON'T LET THAT HAPPEN!!" In a manner contrary to his pudgy stature, the kid quickly stood and stomped off flapping his arms around like a spazzing addict. He marched into his father's den and slammed the double doors locking himself inside and alarming his mother.

"OPEN THE DOOR BABY, MOMMY'S WORRIED!!" She could hear him lumbering about smashing into the furnishings and cursing up a storm. Betty ran back into the kitchen retrieving a kitchen knife to pick the lock.

"CHRISTIAN NOOOO!!" She found him down a pint of his father's best gin noticing that he ripped a door off of the liquor cabinet. They struggled for the pint before she was able to get it away from the spoiled brat spilling quite a bit of it on the carpet.

"I'LL SHOW DAD, I'M GOING TO TAKE DRUGS AND JOIN A GANG!! I'M GOING TO CUT MYSELF AND ROB A FUCKING CONVEINENCE STORE!!" Betty fast snared the troublemaker in her arms doing her best to keep him from scurrying away as he broke down sobbing into her bosom.

"Christian; mommy promises that you will have Christmas like you always had. Come tomorrow you're gonna just find that tree loaded with presents and you have my word on that darling." He finally calmed down looking up into her blue eyes with his bottom lip quivering.

"You promise?"

"Yeah, nobody is gonna ruin my baby's holiday not even mean ole daddy with his stupid morals and sappy talk about the true meaning of Christmas."

"True meaning of Christmas?"

"Daddy says the holiday is supposed to be about love and family, not just gifts and toys."

"Wow dad's so clueless mom; everybody knows it's all about the fucking toys." The boy genuinely scratched his blond scalp perplexed by what he'd been told.

"Language young man."

"Sorry mom but you're so much smarter than dad; did you really mean what you said about there being toys under the tree tomorrow?"

"Of course son and you know mommy never breaks her promises." He was struggling to get back to right himself and had to be assisted by his mother.

"Well uhm; I guess I'll go sledding after all to take my mind off of the disaster that almost happened here and mom?"

"Yes honey?"

"It's a mess in here, you probably should clean it up before dad gets home. I'll be back later after I have some hot cocoa and cookies at my friend Troy's house." She watched her kid drag his sled out of the house knocking over a few more holiday decorations as he went. The pudgy disaster didn't even bother to close the door letting the cold winter air blow in to the house chilling Betty to her core.

The neurotic yet dutiful wife cleaned up her son's mess as best she could and spent the remainder of the morning calling various relatives in a mad attempt to borrow money for some last minute Christmas shopping.

"Sorry Betty you know I love you but your kid is a fucking mess; remember how he set fire to my backyard last summer?" Betty recalled her son explaining it away as horseplay gone wrong.

"WHAT; THAT KID CUT OFF ONE OF MY DAUGHTER'S PONYTAILS!!" Well she wasn't as close to that relative anyway.

"I know you think this is some sort of emergency Betty but if you recall Brian and I babysat Christian. He stole our credit card to join fifty porn internet sites. One of them was called "Tranny Surprise" if I am correct. Can't help you out hon." So went the rest of the morning until Betty exhausted all of her possible contacts.

"HEEEEY SAILOR; if you bring back those FUUUCKIN TOYS I'll totally make it WORTH your while buh-buddy!!" Betty's speech was slurred and uneven as she realized that it was an answering machine she was talking with. She was ready to barter with her own husband using her body to get her son's things back. "

"YOU BETTER HURRY UP YOU BASTARD; THE CLOCK'S TICKING!!" She threatened as the message finished recording with a standard automated beep.

The embattled housewife was at her wits end knowing how upset Christian would be if he didn't get presents. She'd become increasingly intoxicated drinking from the pilfered flask of gin until she was a bright red tint sweating and partially drooling. She helped herself to a fifth of scotch and was working on the cooking sherry when an idea suddenly popped into her drunken melon. What was initially intended as a sprint up to her bedroom became a drunken comedy of errors as Betty stumbled up to her bedroom. The house seemed to be shifting and swaying nearly making the blasted wife drop what little was left in her bottle. Ironically the bottle ended up on the floor when she tried to set it on the dresser to peel off her pale blue blouse laughing at the fact that one of her boobs was free of her brassiere.

She cupped the pendulous breast with its large pinkish areola and squeezed. Betty never told anyone how much she hated her puffy areolas, how she felt weird because of her inverted nipples. Harold on the other hand loved her charms enough to spend hours nursing on them until they revealed their pencil-thick nature. She worried about having kids and having her husband fighting with their offspring over her treasures. Her thighs quivered a bit at the memory of Harold's aggressive love making in the early days of their marriage. Some days Betty wouldn't be able to move freely around their home without being taken repeatedly by her lust crazed husband. She'd always told herself that his behavior was only because they were each other's firsts. She reached back unclasping her plain bra letting the dull garment fall to the floor. She cupped the undersides of both breasts holding them up and rolling the nipples until they popped out.

Harold never hid the fact that he thought she'd turned into a prude and sometimes joked openly about her "lack of fire" amongst his closest friends. It seemed that he liked sleeping on the couch for weeks at a time until she would invariably crack and bring him back to bed with a little oral makeup session. A shiver radiated through her body as Betty continued pulling and manipulating her overly sensitive nipples. Sometimes her roguish husband would suck and nibble on them until she squirted and then make fun of her reddened cheeks before going down on her to clean up the mess. The stresses out drunken matron could feel something familiar on the horizon. Something she hadn't experienced in months and was more than welcome after Betty's insane morning. Her plump thighs were already shaking in anticipation as she sat on her plush bedding drawing her khaki capris down until they rested on her expensive oriental rug. Her husband had given her hell for that thoughtless purchase but she'd won him over with a particularly nasty early morning blowjob.

Betty was rubbing her thick mound trying to increase her drunken pleasure. She'd always had a somewhat pronounced clit that her loyal husband loved to tease and suck until she screamed to the rafters. Betty's inebriated mind wandered further replaying steamy various episodes from her married life as her fingers found their way into her panties. She wondered what it would be like with someone other than her husband. The decidedly frumpy wondered if someone else would enjoy her charms as much as Harold. The climax she was seeking seemed just out of reach nearly cresting enough times to frustrate the housewife into retrieving a very private item from her bedside table. One of her friends had given her the rabbit as a joke during one of Harold's forced couch furloughs. She wondered how her husband would feel if he knew about her little cheat during her "frigid" periods. The buzzing toy worked wonders on her clit but still seemed to bring her no joy.

"Wh-What's going on here?" Her masturbation took on a more feral manic nature as she strived to get herself over that edge but nothing seemed to work as she began spanking her clit with her palm.

"Fucking-I juh-JUST WANNA CUM!!"She screamed in frustration realizing in her heat that there was a vague image forming in her mind. She saw Harold in his Santa Claus suit ransacking the tree of its gifts and the extreme tantrum of her spoiled son Christian. Her flustered state spiked as she cursed her son and husband internally while going to town on herself futilely.


Suddenly the entire home shook and dipped jolting Betty out of her lustful stupor in dramatic fashion. Some of the photos and framed pictures crashed to the floor along with some bottles of perfume from her dresser as she sat in the middle of her bed quickly pulling her discarded shirt around her figure. There was a defined fissure at one corner of the room that was so deep that plaster dust was issuing forth from it as a slight mist. The bedroom felt unnaturally cold and still as she managed to stand first placing a pile of clothing back on a chair it had fallen from.

"Just my luck; a fucking earthquake on Christmas Eve." Her blond head was still spinning from the epic amount of alcohol consumption as she staggered out into the hallway finding it strangely intact. As she took a few steps into the hall Betty drunkenly noted the eerie quiet and looked over her shoulder at every little creak. A sudden thunderous impact hit the roof of her house starling the partially dressed woman who tumbled to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. She trembled as she noticed clumps of snow falling past the window.

"What's-?!!" The housewife attempted to shake the cobwebs out of her blonde head as a distinct series of clopping sounds denoted one or more objects of distinct weight on her ceiling. A loud braying sort of sound echoed through her second floor shocking the poor woman so badly that she actually hiccupped out of fear. Another loud sound much like footfalls caused the woman to shriek and run back into her bedroom locking the door. She attempted to call the cops only to find the "Nutcracker" playing from the receiver.

"Holy? Wait-a-minute this isn't..." There was a loud crash that came from the bottom of her stairs as the half-naked woman steeled herself with a long swig from the pilfered alcohol from her own kitchen. Figuring the empty bottle would make a good bludgeon, Betty tightened her grip on the glass neck and stepped back into the hallway finding it surprisingly warm. In fact it was downright toasty and humid as she crept to the top of her stairs peering down into her living room.

"Harold?" There he was lingering in front of the Christmas tree and Betty figured that he'd received her drunken phone message full of the promises of nasty sex. Her heart fluttered a bit knowing how much it must have hurt Harold's pride to go back on his word. He seemed adamant earlier that day about teaching their errant son the error of his ways by confiscating his gifts. The portly, dumpy man apparently had a price after all. Still swaying from all of the booze inside her soft body, Betty held fast to the railing as she half stumbled down the stairs to the living room. It was a miracle she didn't break her neck. She wasn't going to give him a chance to change his mind about things. Christian would have the perfect Holiday after all...and Harold wouldn't care one bit. She'd see to it that he was walking on cloud nine when she was done.

"Couldn't resist huh?!" Her speech was still a little slurred as she stumbled into the living room locking her arms tightly around her husband burying her face in his faux Santa coat. Betty coughed hard burping and gurgling up some of the booze in her stomach as a stench akin to several hundred full ashtrays assaulted her nostrils. It smelled as though Harold had been to a couple of questionable dive bars. Betty rationed that perhaps he'd been overcome with regret after taking off with the presents and resolved to drink up some liquid courage.

She was shocked as his pudgy body shifted violently almost tossing her to the carpet but the sauced up house wife held fast with one hand on her husband's package. In seconds she'd dipped into her Santa's pants grasping his surprising girth in her sweaty palm. The mounting insults about her "Epic Frigidity" and other jokes over the years were swirling in Betty's drunken head and she was determined to make her husband remember the wanton slut she'd been during their college years. She nipped his wide bottom with her teeth and jerked on his meat like it was going out of style. He seemed to dip and go a little weak in knees as she snaked her blonde head forward capturing her prize between her lips. Harold bellowed as she captured mushroom head of his member sucking hard and tickling the underside of his glans with her tongue.

It had been months since she'd been with her husband and his personal taste was decidedly bitter and it smelled as if he hadn't showered in weeks. Betty cupped the underside of his massive unshaved balls with her right palm and tightened her fingers around the base of his cock. Her plump lips barely pursed around his girth and her round cheeks pursed inward from the suction. The drunken housewife's efforts were rewarded as her husband bellowed with delight. His belly was so pronounced and huge that she had to work hard to get a decent rhythm going. The natural jiggle shook and bounced against her working head as she pushed her face deeper into his crotch. His heavy breathing filled the living room intermingling with the carols blaring from her stereo.

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