Xmas Helping

This is my entry for the Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022, and my first ever contest. I hope you enjoy it. Happy holidays.

All characters are over eighteen.

Please try to leave feedback in the comments section. Constructive criticism is invaluable for every author. I encourage everyone to vote and leave ideas for future stories as well. Finally, I would like to thank kenjisato for his time and help.

*****

"Go on," I seethed. "Say it. 'I told you so.'"

My not-small pride hated admitting that my husband had a point about not inviting my parents over for Christmas Eve. What started as an attempt to rebuild some bridges had somehow turned into all my brothers and sisters being invited to our house.

Pete responded to my outburst by slipping his arm in and around until he was holding my hand. "Don't worry. It'll be alright."

"No, it won't!" I barked angrily. "My fashion business takes off and I become the richest member of the family, and they're still treating me like I'm a baby!"

"Gwen, can we get some more cookies? My son would like some more."

Throwing my husband a look, I yelled back, "Sure thing, Daryl. Be right out."

Filling another platter of the Christmas treats my husband had the foresight to cook, I wove through several people to reach the food table. We'd ordered several pizzas, but the thought of waiting until they were ready for pickup never occurred to most of the guests.

"Thanks, Auntie Gwen," my four-year-old nephew thanked me as I placed the new cookies on the table.

"You're welcome, Leo," I smiled, noticing that the children seemed more inclined to thank me than the adults.

My bad mood returned as soon as I passed the garbage bags full of wrapping on the way back. Our family had a tradition of exchanging presents whenever we all gathered together on Christmas Eve. There was plenty of torn tissue to clean up, but no one had thought to bring a single gift for me.

"Why did I even bother inviting my parents?" I complained to Pete. "It's not like they approve of us or anything."

By then, I was so short-tempered that I didn't care if anyone heard me. Since the kitchen faced the living room, anyone watching us from behind the bar table would've heard me. Fortunately, no one was interested. The men were watching sports on our jumbo-sized TV, the women were chatting, and the kids were all playing.

I had the satisfaction of seeing Pete's face darken, if only slightly. My parents made no secret of their opposition to my marriage.

"Can't argue with that one," he admitted.

"First they thought you weren't good enough for me. When my business took off, they complained I was too good for you."

"You don't have to remind me," he grumbled. "Trust me, I want everyone gone just as badly as you."

The look we shared was of two co-conspirators. We made a great team, despite being an odd match. I was a short, hot blonde with a fierce temper and an inclination to stress over every detail. Pete was the opposite: tall, brooding, and handsome, with brown hair and matching eyes that revealed his relaxed, methodical approach to life.

"I am this close to just screaming for everyone to get the fuck—"

"No," he said unexpectedly sternly. "Trust me, I have something better planned."

"Like what?" I questioned.

Pete bent down to look at me closer. "I'm going to pick up the pizza. While I'm gone, bring the cooler in the basement up to the living room. Afterward, you will find a box waiting for you on the bed. Open it, then come back down."

I looked at him, befuddled. He answered with a sly grin.

"Trust me, this little Christmas helper has a trick up his sleeve."

He turned and left without another word, leaving me scowling. His cryptic words did nothing to lessen my mounting frustration.

I found the cooler at the bottom of the basement stairs. It was our largest one, and I wondered why he'd saved it when we could've used it earlier. I got my answer when I opened the chilled cover.

"Are you kidding me?!" I said as I held the bottle. "What's he gonna do with this much beer?"

Not just any beer, either. It was from a local brand with a much, much higher level of alcohol than any big brand. It tasted like regular beer, but it could leave a grown man groggy in just a few cans.

I'd always thought Pete was above this, but I was angry enough by that point to decide that if he wanted to spend Christmas with a hangover, that was his problem. So I pulled out the extendable handle and hauled it up, one step at a time, then rolled it to the side of our couch.

It was like a treasure chest had been cracked open. The whole room went wild as the men scrambled for the golden stuff. I still wasn't pleased, but I did notice that in all the commotion, nobody was paying any attention to me, so I used the distraction to head upstairs and check for that gift Pete mentioned.

The noise thankfully died down the further I got. When I got to the bedroom, it was silent for the first time in nearly twelve hours.

"Oh, thank god!" I exclaimed, closing my eyes to enjoy being able to think again. I'd never be inviting my parents for Christmas again. The best thing about Pete was that he seemed to know when I needed my space.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a large, purple box placed in the exact center of the bed. It was almost comically large and had a green ribbon tied into a bow, making it look almost like a Joker gift. I honestly thought it would turn out to be anti-climactic, but it wasn't.

It was a dress. Like, the sexiest possible red bodycon I'd ever seen. It felt like it was made of pure silk and extended about as far down my legs as a French maid's outfit. One look told me I'd never be able to wear it in public.

Unfortunately, it was offset by the un-sexiest apron imaginable. It combined the old-fashioned look of a fifties housewife with the aesthetics of a chef's outfit. As a fashion businesswoman, I screamed in silent horror. It even had click-on leather shoulder straps. What was the point of the dress if it was going to be canceled out by something this hideous?

At the bottom was a single note. "No panties."

I was still annoyed, especially by the lack of an explanation, but I had to admit the dress looked great. I circled several times in the mirror, admiring how seductive it looked. Wearing something like this out on the streets would be borderline dangerous. Besides how tight it made my curves, it couldn't have shown more cleavage if I wanted it to. The slightest bend or breeze would expose my smooth, hairless pussy to anyone who cared to look. The dark-red color was a natural fit for my short-cut blonde hair. I couldn't help being impressed with Pete's sense of style.

I felt like liquid sex wearing the dress, but I turned stone cold when I put the apron on. Any thoughts of arousal vanished; if I went out wearing this, the only looks I'd get would be from people wondering why I was wearing something so ugly. I shuddered at the thought that my husband was forcing me to wear something that made a mockery of everything I'd accomplished in fashion.

There was one pleasant surprise. The dress was so smooth that I enjoyed the feeling of it. The heavy nature of the apron meant the silk caressed my skin with every movement. I could get used to that.

As I predicted, no one looked at me like I was inappropriate for children. What made it especially annoying was that it made me look like a maid when I was already being treated like one. My cheeks burned with humiliation.

When I returned, there was an entire pile of crushed beer cans littering the floor, but they soon dried up. It wouldn't be long before the effects started to kick in.

"Gwen, would you please take this trash?" Samil, my sister-in-law, held up the emptied box from her son's present.

A flash of light in the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was hard to see because of the thick layer of snow that permeated the darkness of the night, but I recognized Pete's car. I heard the engine shut off, followed shortly by the lights, but he didn't get out. Instead, I got a text on my phone:

Clear off one of the tables and put it in the living room. Grab every paper plate and wait for me.

We'd agreed to serve the pizza in the kitchen. If he thought I was going to spend my Christmas cleaning up grease stains from the couch, he had another thing coming.

Done.

Pete re-entered stealthily. Well, as stealthy as a man holding a stack of pizza boxes that went to the top of his head could. It was heavy, even for him, but he smiled when he saw I was wearing his ridiculous little gift.

He winked, then walked into the living room, me trailing behind with my arms laden with plates.

"Pizza's here!"

The kids went wild, especially when he started handing out plates, telling them to take a seat by their parents. The couch quickly filled up and several people had to eat standing up or sitting on the floor.

I watched the whole scene with a mouth full of pizza myself. This was no cheap frozen pizza from the grocery store. I savored the cheese and tomato sauce, enhanced by the veggies I loved. Pete definitely hadn't forgotten my favorite toppings.

Speaking of, he'd somehow managed to slip out of sight. I was turning my head around when he pressed into me from the back.

"Act natural," he whispered into my ear. Before I could ask what he meant, his hand was rubbing down my leg. I don't know how, but he found a weak spot in my outfit and slipped a hand under my dress.

My eyes widened as I felt him press... something into my pussy. It felt vaguely cylindrical, except that one end was like a dome with rounded edges larger than the rest of the body.

As quickly as it happened, he withdrew his hand, letting my dress fall under the apron and leaving the object firmly in my pussy.

"Head back into the kitchen," he growled huskily into my ear, the smile in his voice all but unmistakable. "I'll deal with everyone myself."

For the first time, curiosity was its own emotion rather than a subset of my still-lingering anger. It was on the walk back that I discovered the object was a vibrator. I gave a minuscule jump as I felt it start happily buzzing as I passed my oldest sister.

The dome acted like a harpoon. I could still pull it out without any pain, but it wouldn't be accidentally falling out anytime soon. Pete must've had some sort of remote because it kept randomly changing from intense to extremely intense. Uncharacteristically of me, I got off from realizing how powerless I was. Unlike him, I couldn't find a way to get my hands under my dress. I was subject to his whims as he remotely played with my pussy, and the thought that I couldn't stop him if I wanted to turned me on.

I was jilted back to reality by the children cheering Pete, who stood at the far end of the living room, the large-screen TV to his back.

"All right, kids. Are you looking forward to heading home?"

"Yes!" over a dozen children said simultaneously. They said it in a good way, like they were wrapping up a fantastic party, but many of their parents got a 'what the fuck?' look on their faces.

It was at that moment that I recognized the brilliance of my husband's plan. Between the beer and the children's unanimous approval to leave, everyone had no choice but to leave. The husbands would be spending Christmas Day with a hangover, while the wives would be the ones driving home this evening.

Pete is normally so soft that I refer to him as a teddy bear, but when the occasion calls for it, he can be a real evil genius. I watched the man I was proud to call husband with heartfelt admiration as he taught my family a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

It would've been satisfying to watch on any day. With the vibrator in my pussy, and him obviously playing with it while his hands were clasped behind his back, it was doubly so.

"Good, but first, I have a special treat. Have any of you heard of superscaling?"

"You mean like a giant playground?" I heard one of my nieces ask.

"No, not super sliding," Pete laughed. "Superscaling. It's a technique computers can use to upscale and enhance old videos from, say, the nineteen-sixties to look better on newer TV screens. How would you like to see 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas!' looking better than ever?"

Oh, that was clever. Watching 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas!' was a tradition for my family, and the kids went into an uproar like he was some kind of hero. Watching from the kitchen, my back bent as I clutched the table's edge while squirming from the constant stimulation of my pussy; I had to admit the picture looked good. I suspected that he'd just bought the latest version of it, but I recognized the sales technique. It was a good way to get your parties excited, which was exactly what he was doing. Everyone's eyes were glued to the classic cartoon that put the bastardized modern-day ripoff to shame.

Mine were, too, at least until Pete approached with a look I could only describe as predatory. Faster than lightning, he engulfed me in a deep kiss. The fact that there were children literally feet away was forgotten.

I allowed all the rage and frustration from that day to fuel me as I kissed him back. There was an animated cartoon playing in the background while I had to stand on my toes to reach my tall husband as we made out while a vibrator was slowly torturing my pussy.

"I know you're angry," he said affectionately. "Good. Let's put that to good use."

With more force than usual, he spun me around and pressed me against the table. I finally discovered why he wanted those ugly leather straps; all he had to do was loosen them with a 'pop,' and the whole thing fell to the floor.

I felt like a butterfly. A very sexy butterfly. One reason I had so much pride was because the genetic lottery had been very kind to me. I'd been told on multiple occasions that I was both the brains and the beauty of the family. I certainly had the biggest tits, and I let out a grinning sigh as my husband cupped them.

"You've done well, my little minx," he said, squeezing them harder than usual. "I think it's time for your own present."

My eyes widened, forming a panoramic-like view of the room. The still-buzzing toy was pulled out, but it was swiftly replaced by something much more potent: his tongue on my clit.

I whimpered, wanting nothing more than to scream in delight as Pete worked his magic. Even crouched, he had to bend awkwardly to reach me from behind, but it felt great regardless.

One thing that quickly became apparent was how aggressive he was being. Pete's approach to lovemaking was kind of like his approach to business: slow and deliberate. There was none of that here. He simply bombarded my clit until I was breathing deeply, then bit it to send me over the edge.

"Motherfucker!"

I somehow managed to keep my voice down. Just as the initial wave passed and my energy started ebbing, he spun me around and planted another hot, lustful kiss on my lips. I welcomed it, pulling his head down to press my body against him. He was trying to make sure I tasted my own juices, which I was more than happy to do.

"That was hot!" I grinned.

"Good," he smiled, his hand moving to my ass. "But I hope you know we're not done yet. I still have to give you your real gift."

"Oh, you mean there's more?" I said innocently.

"Much more," he confirmed with a squeeze of my shapely rear. "Sometimes gifts aren't immediately obvious. They have to be pulled back in layers."

"And what do I have to do to receive this gift?" I asked.

He gave me a sharp whack, making my butt sting and my pussy a little wetter as Pete displayed a dominant side I'd rarely seen from him. The guy was normally so respectful that he allowed me to direct what happened in our bedroom.

"Turn around."

I eagerly did so, wiggling my ass to tempt him. Pete's imagination was on full display. I was less restrained than my conservative family, but the thought of fucking mere feet away from an unaware audience would never have occurred to me.

He wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants. I could hear the gentle dropping sound they made as they fell to the floor, presumably with his boxers joining them. I shivered in anticipation, knowing that one way or another, this was gonna be an exceptionally hot fuck.

With one hand grabbing my hip, he guided his rigid cock to my entrance. He teased me by rubbing himself over my lips without actually penetrating. I whined and protested, but he remained stubbornly out of reach. The head touched my folds repeatedly, shaking side to side to part them, but he refused to just shove the damn thing in me.

I was panting and desperate, ready to throw my pride out the window and beg when he finally relieved my torment. With a single stroke, he drove himself in deep. The force of his upward thrust left me biting my lip as he lifted me straight off the floor. Pete was big. As in, every single sex toy I'd ever bought for him was useless because he was too thick. That's how big he was. And he was spreading my pussy more than usual.

Once he was settled and I was on solid ground again, I could appreciate how hard he was. When I tried squeezing him with my tight hole, I didn't even make a dent. Then he started moving, and I lost myself to the feeling of his motions rubbing every square inch of my walls.

"Like your gift so far?" he whispered into my ear.

"Mm-hm," I whimpered. Pete never failed to get me off, and whatever he had planned, I was sure it was going to be glorious.

"Good. Choosing presents is like an art. You have to balance keeping it a surprise with making sure you get something they want."

Pete didn't start slow. He immediately started ramming me with everything he had.

"There's a fascinating history of gift-giving," he explained without so much as a pause. "It was found in every major culture long before the Romans picked a date to celebrate Christ."

Jesus Christ, he was working my pussy.

"Of course, it wasn't always equitable. Some people got big gifts, while others didn't get any. That was how life worked."

Indeed, it was. While my ungrateful, hospitality-abusing guests wouldn't be getting any good presents, I was receiving a great one: having my pussy split open by my husband's thick motherfucker of a cock.

Pete grabbed my hips the same way I held onto the table for dear life. His hips smacked against my ass, generating a loud crash between hard muscle and soft ass every time. My lungs exhaled hot, steamy air, and my breasts swung with the force of gravity, demanding that I let them free from their inadequate cage. I felt my eyes zoning out from our blissfully unaware audience as Pete did things to my pussy that had never been done before. My only role was to lay there and absorb the hard fucking he was giving me.

"Still, the spirit of selflessness always prevailed in the end. It was just that some presents are meant to be enjoyed in private."

Then he did something really unexpected. He grabbed my bodycon and pulled it straight down, exposing my tits not ten feet away from a room full of children.

"Like right now," he whispered so low that I strained to hear him. "If anyone looked around, the parents would have some explaining to do. If they complained to us, all we'd have to say is, 'No one invited you.'"

He went back to thrusting like nothing had happened. My large tits swung freely as I reflected on how right he was. This was our house. If we wanted to make normal husband-and-wife activities part of our Christmas, we were under no obligation to alter our behavior for guests who had invited themselves.

I still rather hoped my nieces and nephews wouldn't turn around, but the act of rebelliousness did seem like a sweet, holiday-friendly form of revenge. Oh, my next orgasm was going to be magnificent!