11 comments/ 27044 views/ 5 favorites Christmas Cash By: Ellafun Author's Note: This story is dedicated, with tongue in cheek, to the many friends I have made since I joined the Literotica community. A very special thank you to Bronzeage for his counsel and wit. Merry Christmas, everyone! Ella © * Angel sat on the floor, her back against the sofa, and stared at the tree. The twinkling colored lights should have enchanted her and caused visions of sugarplums to dance through her head. Instead, as Nat King Cole crooned about chestnuts from the radio, Angel's eyes filled with tears. Her despair swallowed her as she buried her face in her hands. Brad had been out of work since September. Angel was a stay-at-home mom. Christmas was only a month away, and the money was running out. Brad made sure that he had put three months' worth of finances aside to cover the utilities, the mortgage, and the insurance, but unless Santa could pull off a miracle, the kids would have a meager Christmas. Angel had thought that by putting up the tree and some decorations, she could put some of the worry out of her head. Unfortunately, it just magnified the problem. Nat King Cole faded away, and the next song came on. "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. " It was hard to sit on the floor, crying and miserable, with that coming from the speakers. She shook her head, wiped her eyes with her hands, and got up. She stretched her body out, fingers reaching high for the ceiling, up on her tiptoes, until she felt the blood start pumping again. Damn, that floor was hard. Angel still had a pretty good figure for 47-year-old mother of two. Most of her 5'3" frame was her legs. They were graceful and lean, and they met at what was still a firm, tight ass. That's why the floor was so hard; there was nothing there to act as a cushion. She had never had much in the way of breasts before she had kids, but now she had what Brad called, "more than a mouthful." She loved the way he looked at her. She still felt attractive, and well, sexy. It made her feel young. Ugh. Enough of the awful Christmas music. Angel turned the station to find something less depressing. She walked into the kitchen as a block of commercials started. "Ho, Ho, Ho! Santa needs a Ho, Ho, Ho!" blared from the radio. Angel stopped. She turned and stared at the radio; she couldn't have really heard that. A sultry woman's voice continued, "Ladies, do you need some extra cash for the holidays? Why not be a Santa's Helper? Phone-a-Friend has lots and lots of unique positions, and we have one that's just right for you. Make new friends, have fun, and make some extra holiday cash in your spare time. All you need is a computer or a phone, a few minutes, and a positive attitude. Call now!" Angel ran for a pen and paper and wrote down the phone number. This had to be something illicit. Or illegal. Or fattening. Or enriching. 555-538-7286. All she had to do was dial. Just pick up the phone and dial. What could it hurt? This could be the answer to their money problems. Her curiosity got the best of her, and Angel grabbed the phone out of the charger and dialed the number. One ring. She was nervous; she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Two rings. She started to bite her bottom lip from anxiety. Three rings. "Hello and thank you for calling Phone-a-Friend." "Hi," answered Angel, only to be interrupted by the continuation of a pre-recorded message. "If you are calling to inquire about being a Santa's Helper, please press 1. If you are calling to speak to a Santa's Helper, please press 2." Angel's hands were shaking as she pressed the '1' on the cordless phone. One ring. Two rings. And then a very cheerful, female voice on the other end of the phone. "Hi, this is Colleen. How may I help you today?" "Um, hi, Colleen. My name is Angel. I just heard your ad on the radio about Santa's Helpers? Can you tell me what it is, exactly?" "Oh, sure, dear," answered Colleen. "We offer a chat service for adults. Have you ever chatted with anyone online, dear?" "You mean like social networks and stuff?" Angel asked. "Oh, well, sort of. But this is more personal," explained Colleen. "What we do is offer adults the opportunity to have intimate conversations, either online or by telephone. As a Santa's Helper, you would just allow gentlemen, and sometimes ladies, to chat with you from the privacy of their homes, and sometimes to exchange photos and... Angel interrupted. "Oh, my God. You're talking about cybersex and phone sex, aren't you?" Colleen hesitated. "Now, my dear, that's not what we call our service. We are simply a platform on which adults can have conversations without boundaries. If it doesn't sound like it's right for you, that's fine. Thank you for your call." "Wait!" cried Angel. The money. Ask about the money. "What kind of money can a Santa's Helper make for having, um, adult conversations?" She couldn't believe she was asking the question. "Angel, if you're really interested, I would be happy to connect you to one of our Erotic Listing Finders. You do have a lovely voice, you know. I think you would be a wonderful Santa's Helper," Colleen answered. This was the craziest thing Angel had ever done. What on earth was she thinking? She paced out of the kitchen and back into the living room...and saw the Christmas tree lights twinkling at her. "Yes, I'm definitely interested," she said, with more confidence than she felt. "Please let me talk to one of your Erotic Listing Finders." ------------------------------------------------------- For the most part, Angel was having fun with her new "job." Through Phone-a-Friend, she had been given an identity and a client list, and was now officially a Santa's Helper. She was living vicariously through Holly, her online alter-ego. And frankly, Holly was a real slut. When Angel went through her orientation with the Erotic Listing Finder (or ELF, for short), she was told that some of the men to whom she spoke would want her to be "submissive. " Angel had no idea what that meant, and as much as the ELF tried to explain it, she still didn't quite understand. On top of that, she was reluctant to talk to any of her new "friends" on the phone. The ELF said that she could put that off until she felt more comfortable with the online role-playing. When Angel asked what the hell "online role-playing" was, the ELF had sighed so loudly that it sounded more like a growl. Angel stopped asking questions after that. She had been really nervous about "talking" to her first client. It was bright and early on the last Saturday in November. Brad was out with the kids. Angel was all alone in the house, wearing her favorite fleece pajama bottoms with giant snowflakes on them, a long-sleeved thermal underwear shirt and a mismatched pair of fuzzy socks. She sat down at her desk with a mug of hot coffee in her hand. She turned on her laptop and clicked on the chat mode on the Santa's Helper page. A message soon appeared on the screen. FMLYHM is online. All she knew about FMLYHM was that he was a 33 year old male from somewhere in the U.S., and that he was described as a "Dominant." She figured that it was time to figure out what that was all about. Because of the early hour, she assumed that he was on the east coast somewhere, like her. A bubble appeared on her screen: FMLYHM: Good morning. Holly: Good morning. FMLYHM: Are you ready to play this morning, my new pet? Visions of collars and leashes briefly flew through Angel's mind. She looked at the clock; it wasn't even 10 a.m. A little early for that, wasn't it? Oh, well. She slouched down and tucked her feet up onto the edge of the chair and typed back. Holly: Yes, I guess so. FMLYHM: You will address me as Sir. Understand? Holly: Yes, Sir. FMLYHM: Very good. What is your name? Holly: Holly. FMLYHM: I told you to call me Sir. Did you not understand completely? Angel tilted her head to the side a little, and read the message again. "Really?" she thought. "Oh, what the hell. It's your dime." Holly: I apologize, Sir. My name is Holly, Sir. FMLYHM: You may call me Master. I will call you Slut. Angel sipped her coffee and considered what this complete stranger had just called her online. She tapped her fingernails on her mug -- click, click, click, one at a time --wondering about this man. "You are fucking kidding me," she thought. "This is what I'm going to be doing here?" She sighed, and put down the mug. Holly: Of course, Master. FMLYHM: What is my slut wearing this morning? Angel looked down at her fuzzy morning attire. Oh, shit. She better make this good. Holly: I am wearing lace panties, Master. FMLYHM: Lovely. Take a picture and send it to me. Now. Oh, thank goodness for that ELF. Instead of having a panic attack at that moment, Angel simply clicked into the files at the top of her screen that her ELF had placed there. The fourth file contained pictures of models with brown eyes and brunette hair, like Holly; she found one of a lovely lady in a pair of lace panties and forwarded it to the e-mail address on the chat page. While it loaded, she walked upstairs to the bathroom and found the nail polish remover, and grabbed some nail polish. Might as well give herself a manicure while she was between her groveling replies. Several minutes passed before she heard the familiar "popping" noise. FMLYHM: Very nice, Slut. You will take two fingers on your left hand, and you will fuck your pussy with them, while you type to me with your right hand. Angel looked at the fresh nail polish on her left hand, and made a face. Red Velvet nail polish all over her crotch? No way. She reached for the coffee mug again, and with one finger of her right hand, typed a response. Holly: I-a-m-f-u-c-k-i-n-g-m-y-s-e-l-f-w-I-t-h-m-y-f-I-n-g-e-r-s-m-a-s-t-e-r She backed the cursor up to change the "m" in master from lower to upper case. Holly: I-a-m-f-u-c-k-i-n-g-m-y-s-e-l-f-w-I-t-h-m-y-f-I-n-g-e-r-s-M-a-s-t-e-r She pressed the send key while waving her fingernails and blowing on them to get them to dry. Where the hell did she put that top coat? Maybe it was in the downstairs bathroom... The conversation with FMLYHM continued for another 45 minutes or so. By the end of the conversation, Angel...well, Holly...had been bent over and spanked with a bare hand, violated in various holes by several fingers, and gagged repeatedly while her master fucked her face, until he came in torrents of hot, steaming spunk that drenched Holly's face and hair, which she was then expected to lick up and swallow, so as not to waste a single drop of his 'sweet delicious seed.' She finished her third cup of coffee, with French vanilla creamer in it, and she decided to describe the sweet, delectable taste of said spunk through her written words as if it was the cream. She suddenly decided that she would never be able to look at the French vanilla creamer in the same way ever, ever again. She had been called a whore, a pet, a fuck doll and a dirty cum-slut. Angel wondered if she could include that somewhere on her resume. ------------------------------------------------------ Angel was very careful to arrange her appointment times for when Brad and the kids would be out of the house. She had only four regular clients, plus some "walk-ins" who were referred to her by her ELF. Now that she was beginning to understand the concept of role-play, Angel became more comfortable with how Holly was supposed to respond to certain prompts. Almost all of her new "friends" wanted to control her. In fact, FMLYHM seemed to be quite intent about making Holly a permanent toy in his collection. His demands became dirtier and kinkier every time they interacted. Angel was a little concerned about how long she was going to be able to keep him satisfied. The upside about conversations with him was that she had found time to give herself a complete pedicure to go with her manicure. At the end of the week, Angel received her first paycheck. It had arrived at the house via messenger just before noon, while the kids were still at school. She had done about 12 hours worth of work. She sat and stared at the check for about 15 minutes before she started dancing around the living room, screaming and yelling like a madwoman. When Brad walked in the door from his late morning appointment with an employment service, he found Angel jumping up and down on the sofa screaming, "Thank you, Santa! Thank you, Santa!" Brad looked at her in astonishment. Angel was wearing a t-shirt. Nothing else. For some reason, her bra and panties were dangling from the Christmas tree. Angel launched herself off the sofa and into Brad's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. The sudden force of her weight made him stagger back against the front door. "What is going on?" he managed to ask. Angel didn't answer. She unlocked hers legs from Brad, and rested one hand on his cheek while she looked into his eyes. She lifted the other hand, which still gripped the check, up for him to see. "Merry Christmas, baby," Angel whispered. Brad looked at the check. He looked at Angel, and then back at the check. He took it from her hand, trying to comprehend what was going on. As he stood there gaping at it, Angel slid down to the floor and unbuttoned his pants. "Who the hell is Phone-a...." Brad stopped talking as Angel, now kneeling on the floor with her thighs spread wide open, unzipped his pants and yanked them to the floor. "What are you doing?" he asked, stunned at his wife's arousing behavior. Angel looked up at him and gave him the most evil, seductive smile he had ever seen. "Having a lunch break," she answered. She pulled down his cute plaid boxers and pushed Brad back against the door. She wrapped one hand around his cock, and tenderly kissed the tip. She deftly fondled his balls with her other hand, while she lightly kissed and licked and teased him. "I love to feel you get hard for me," she whispered, looking up at him with that same hungry look. "Oh, not a problem, baby. Uuuuhhhhhh...," Brad moaned and closed his eyes. His head leaned back against the door as Angel took his cock into her mouth. "Mmmmmmm, I want to hear you moan while I suck you off," she said, momentarily taking him out of her mouth. "Yes, dear," was all Brad could manage to say. Angel stroked the base of his cock with her hand while she greedily sucked on the tip. Her other hand drifted lazily down to her pussy, where her fingers began to toy with her clit. Her tongue rubbed methodically against his shaft as she took him farther into her mouth. Brad dropped the check and slid his hands into her hair, and started to thrust his hips toward her to match the rhythm of movements. He moaned as he began to plunge harder into her mouth. Angel could feel Brad's body tense. He was going to cum. She started to slide him as far into her mouth as far as she could, when FMLYHM's words slipped into her head. "That's it, slut, take it all the way into your throat. I want to fuck your face like a dirty whore." Angel hesitated, trying to get the directive out of her head, when Brad exploded into the back of her mouth. She swallowed all that he gave her, thinking that it really didn't taste anything like French vanilla creamer. "Angel?" She looked up at him, still licking her lips and the tips of her fingers. Brad stroked the side of her face softly, and she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his hand on her cheek. "That was amazing. God, I love your mouth. But tell me, baby, where did the money come from?" Angel's eyes snapped open in alarm. She bit the right side of her lower lip, the way she always did when her mind started churning. How was she going to tell him? What would he say? She reached up her hand to him, and he took it, helping her to her feet. "I, uh, took a part-time job," she stammered. "It's a job I can do from home. I'm a customer service representative for a, um, website." She realized how unconvincing her words sounded, but wasn't sure what to say. She didn't think Brad would understand what she was doing when he wasn't home. It certainly wouldn't make her mama proud, she thought. He was drilling his eyes into her, and exhaled loudly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't say a word, knowing that she would just keep talking. She never knew when to shut up. He loved to watch her when she was squirming like she was at the moment. It meant she had done something he wouldn't like, which would lead to a disagreement, and end up with some incredible make-up sex. "I mean, I, uh, I talk to people on the internet, and help them to solve their, um, problems." Still no movement or word from Brad, other than the eyebrow over his left eye, which went up slightly. Her stomach dropped. She was screwed, and she knew it. "Maybe you should come sit down, Brad," Angel said. "Yeah, maybe I should, Angel," he answered, waiting for her to move so he could pick up the check and replace his boxers and pants back up to his hips. He followed her over to the sofa/trampoline. Angel sat with her feet tucked up under her backside and chewed on her fingernail while Brad situated himself next to her. She looked over at him, took a deep breath, started to talk, and then stopped. She took another deep breath, tried again, and stopped. This went on two or three more times. Finally, she started to talk so rapidly that Brad could barely keep up with her tirade. "IwastryingtothinkofawaytogetenoughmoneytobuyChristmaspresentsforthekidsandI heardanadontheradiotobeaSanta'sHelperforPhoneAFriendandIcalledandtheysetmeup withsomeclients--well,they'reallmen,really--andItalktothemontheinternet--well,Idon't talk,Itype--andI pretend that I'm having...sex......with.........them...." Angel's voice faded as she ran out of breath. She bit her lip again, anxiously waiting for Brad's reaction. Brad stared at his wife, a smirk on his face. She looked so damned adorable sitting there in just her t-shirt, perched on her knees. Wait -- what did she just say? Did she just tell him she was having sex with men on the internet? It took him a minute to process what she'd said, because she talked so damned fast. The smile slowly disappeared as he finally grasped her words. "Six hundred dollars, Brad. Six. Hundred. Dollars. And I didn't do anything but talk to these guys, I swear," she continued. Her heart was pounding in her chest. "Say something, Brad." "I'm trying to think of something to say," he admitted. "I mean, at first glance, it feels like you're cheating on me. How intimate are you with these guys?" Angel crinkled up her nose, and in a very tiny voice answered, "Very." She looked up at him like a penitent child and said, "I only did it because of the money. I'm sorry, Brad." "Let me think about this for awhile, okay, Angel?" "Sure," she answered. She got up from the sofa and retrieved her bra and panties from the Christmas tree, and went up to their bedroom, leaving Brad to his thoughts. Brad looked at the check, and thought about what Angel was doing. He found the situation wrong on so many levels, but he understood Angel's motives. She was genuinely trying to help with the finances. He knew she was a tremendous flirt. He would often watch Angel work the room at a party, knowing that she could say just the right things to get his friends worked up. It aroused him when she did that, because she knew he was watching, and she would put on quite a show. Then she would come back to him, completely turned on, and when they got back home they would fuck like rabbits. He had no doubt that she was just as effective over the internet as she was in person. The more Brad thought about it, the more he realized that he found it kind of erotic that his wife was the object of other men's desires. He was her number one fan, after all. He bounded off the sofa and up to the bedroom, where Angel was sitting, dejected, on the side of the bed. He kicked off his shoes on his way into the room. He walked in front of her, and slowly began to undress. Christmas Cash Angel looked up at him when his shirt hit the floor, a look of shock on her face. She watched him strip off his socks, then his pants, then his boxers. His cock was getting hard as she watched him. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to her. Angel wasn't sure if she was nervous or excited, but she started to giggle. "What are you doing, Brad?" she asked. "It's time for my lunch break, too," he answered. "Lie back on the bed and spread your legs for me." Angel did as he asked, and he put her legs up onto his shoulders. She sighed as his strong hands slid around her thighs, pulling her pussy closer to his mouth. Brad darted his tongue skillfully around her lips, circling her clit. Then he moved his tongue down and drew it up her slit, lapping her cunt over and over again, before he went back to circling her clit. He stopped to lubricate the middle and index finger of his left hand with his tongue. He slid them slowly into her pussy so he could finger-fuck her. She was getting so very, very wet. She moaned and writhed against his fingers. He used the fingers of his right hand to expose her raw clit and then he furiously flicked her throbbing bud, while his fingers moved faster in and out of her. Angel looked at her husband's head buried between her legs and drove her hips to meet his oral assault. She reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair, moaning his name. She began murmuring to him while he drove her toward climax. "Oh, my God, Brad. You feel so good. Lick me. Yeah, baby. Lick that pussy. Lap up my juice with that dirty little tongue of yours. Oooh, yes. Just like that. Lick me. Oh. God. Oh. I want to cum in your mouth. Lick me, Brad, lick me!" Angel screamed as she raised her hips, grinding her pussy against Brad's mouth as hard as she could. Her orgasm washed over her as he continued to lick and suck on her clit. She was pulling his hair, and his deep moans vibrated through her as her spasms slowed. Finally, she begged him to stop and join her on the bed. Brad had a raging hard on and was more than happy to climb up on the bed next to her. He stretched out next to Angel and whispered softly in her ear. "Get on your hands and knees. It's time for me to remind you that you're mine." Angel didn't have time to react before Brad flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her up into his favorite position. He moved behind her and spread her legs so he could kneel between them. He leaned over her so he could reach her tits, and his fingers found her nipple and pinched so hard that she cried out. She could feel his cock twitching against her ass, and she arched up into him. Brad moved back so that the head of his cock teased Angel's tight ass. He saw her clenching reflex when he touched her, and he smiled. God, how he loved that ass. He slid his cock down until it effortlessly penetrated Angel's dripping wet pussy. Now it was his turn to talk dirty to her. He knew how turned on she got when he talked while he was fucking her. He grabbed her hips and slid his cock into her and held still for just a few seconds before he pulled almost all the way out. He loved to watch his cock disappear inside her. He started to pick up the rhythm as she leaned back into each stroke. "You like that cock inside you, don't you? That's my pussy. Don't forget that. I get to eat it. I get to fuck it. It belongs to me. My own private little pussy. I like to fuck that hot little pussy. Mmm, yeah, I love to fuck you, my little Angel." While Brad whispered to Angel, he lifted his thumb up to his mouth and licked it before he traced it over her backside and to the rim off her puckered asshole. He circled only once before he plunged it into her, making her arch her back. "You like that don't you, you dirty little girl?" he rasped. Angel couldn't answer. She could feel another orgasm welling up inside her. All she could do was ride his cock and wait for him to release her desperate need. Brad could read her body's response to his thumb in her ass. He reached up with his other hand and tangled his fingers through Angel's hair. He pulled it, hard, and he lost all control as he began to fuck her with abandon, his cock driving into her, hard and deep. She could feel his balls slapping against her as he rode her to climax. He was pulling her hair so hard that she couldn't even make a sound, but he could feel her pussy clench onto his cock, and he exploded inside her with a primal grunt. They collapsed on the bed, his cock still buried inside her. They were getting chilled from the drying sweat, and trying to catch their breath, when they heard the kids come home from school. "Wow. Long lunch break today, babe," said Angel. Brad wrapped his arms tightly around his naked, satisfied wife. "Yeah, I noticed," he said. "Guess you'll have to work some overtime to make up for the lost wages." ------------------------------------------------------- Angel spent the next two weeks working from her home computer. Brad was helpful with keeping the kids out of the house so she could chat online undisturbed. In between typing one-handed responses to her oversexed clients, she managed to finish decorating the tree, wrap some of the gifts she had already bought and bake about 12 different kinds of cookies. The Advent countdown calendar hung on the wall right over her desk. It was her constant reminder of why she was giving herself to complete strangers. It was almost midnight on Christmas Eve. The kids were sleeping, waiting for Santa to arrive. Angel sat on the floor with her back against the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the Christmas tree. There were so many gifts under it that it looked like Santa had turned his sack upside down. Brad was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of Asti Spumante. "Meet Me Under the Mistletoe at Midnight Christmas Eve" was playing on the stereo. Their Christmas Eve tradition for the past 21 years was to do just that, while listening to this Randy Travis song. Angel was a bit intoxicated. Earlier that day, she had received her weekly check from Phone-A-Friend. She had gone out and cashed the check, and drove straight to the liquor store and bought a case of Asti. She had finished most of the first bottle by herself. Brad had finally seized the bottle out of her hand and banished her from the kitchen. She sat there on the floor in a daze, trying desperately to sort out the cobwebs in her head. She looked like she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Brad asked as he sat down on the sofa. "Or are you going to make me guess?" His guess would have been that she had started to despise sex in any way, shape or form. She had become a completely different person in the bedroom over the past few weeks, and it worried him. There was no more affection between them, no honest intimacy. She had started to treat him the same way she said she talked to her damn clients. It was obvious that she was just going through the motions when she was with him. "I dunno," she slurred, more from exhaustion than from the wine. "Guess I'm jus a lonely fuck doll withou' a masser. Wanna' boss me aroun'?" She turned and looked at him, and tried to toss her hair provocatively over her shoulder. In her present condition, however, all it did was make her lose her balance. She grabbed Brad's arm and righted herself, and in the process spilled his glass of Asti all over his lap. "Thas' okay, baby, I'll lick it off for you, just the way you like it." She reached out to unbutton his pants when Brad grabbed her hand. "Angel. Look at me," he snapped. "Wassa matter, baby, don't you want me to wrap my mouth around your thick, hard, throbbing cock?" she mumbled. She looked up and could see the alarm in his eyes. "I'm talking to Angel, not Holly," he answered. Angel knelt there on the floor and put her arms around Brad's waist and her head on his lap and she started to cry. He gently stroked her hair as her emotions poured out of her. "I'm so sorry, Brad. I'm so confused. I feel so dirty. And used," she blubbered through her tears. "I love you so much. I just wanted to earn some extra money. I didn't think it through. It's tearing me up inside. I didn't think it would make me feel so...so...cheap," she sobbed. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. "Please don't cry. " He wondered how long this had been tormenting his wife. God damn that Union. If he hadn't been laid off, this wouldn't be happening. He reached down and pulled her up onto his lap, letting her cry on his shoulder. This was turning into a very wet, messy Christmas Eve. He held her until she became still in his arms. "Angel, sweetie, everything is going to be okay. You don't have to talk to those guys anymore. I'll get a job soon, I swear. I'll take care of you, I promise." Angel looked up at Brad and tried to smile as she answered him, "I know you will. I love you so much. I fucked up. I should never have taken this job. I'm so sorry, Brad." "You have no reason to apologize. Except for that filthy language. Watch your mouth, young lady," he teased. Angel smiled and snuggled her head onto his shoulder. His strong arms were wrapped around her, and she felt safe, and warm. She felt all of those familiar feelings seeping back through her veins. The love. The trust. The honest-to-God attraction that she had always felt for Brad. She nuzzled his neck softly with her lips, and gradually moved up to nibble on his ear. "What are you doing, Angel," he asked, knowing full well what she was doing. "Make love to me, Brad," she whispered into his ear. He groaned at her words and turned so he could kiss her. He gently pressed his mouth against hers, and kissed her deeply. Holly was gone; Angel was back. He finally pulled away, and Angel stood up, still a little wobbly. Brad helped her out of her favorite t-shirt and snowflake pajama pants, and then slowly removed her panties. He looked up at her and winked. "I get to open my first Christmas present already," he said. She smiled at him, and his heart melted. "Jesus, Angel, I love you. Let me get out of these wet pants." Brad undressed quickly and sat back down on the sofa. Angel straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. He grabbed onto her hips as she started to rub her pussy against his already hard cock. She was so aroused that he slid right into her wetness without breaking the kiss. Angel finally leaned back so she could watch Brad's cock penetrating her. She sighed and closed her eyes as he filled her. She felt complete again. She began to thrust her hips more quickly as he held onto her. Brad watched his wife's face as she approached her climax. He knew that once she came, he would be helpless to keep from exploding inside her. She was grinding herself onto him, not making a sound. He let her ride him at her own pace until he saw her eyes flutter closed, and then he lifted her up and pounded her onto his cock, hard and fast. He felt the clenching spasms of her walls around him, and he pushed into her as far as he could and held her there while he came inside her. They stayed snuggled together until Randy Travis stopped singing. Angel was starting to shiver. Brad gently stroked her cheek, and kissed her forehead. "Merry Christmas, my little Angel," he whispered. "Merry Christmas, Brad. I love you," she murmured. "I love you, too, baby. Time for bed. We have to get up early and clean the sofa before the kids get up." Angel smiled as Brad lifted her in his arms and carried her up to their bedroom. Life was good. And she was definitely quitting her job.