1 comments/  4387 views/  2 favorites

Every Day Will be Like a Holiday

By: MsQuote



Even though my son Brandon was nineteen and in his second year of college, he still liked to alternate the years he spent holidays with me and his dad. This year was my year for Thanksgiving, and since my parents were in Sarasota for the winter, Brandon and I were left to fend for ourselves.

Or so I thought.

"Hey, Mom," Brandon said to me when he came in for the holidays. "I know we have plans for Turkey Day this year, but Kellie invited me to her dad's house, and ..."

I knew this day would eventually come.

Brandon and Kellie had been seeing each other since they met in a sociology class last winter term. She was a cute girl with a bubbly personality, and Brandon was totally smitten with her. Since both of her parents lived nearby, they saw lot of each other over the summer break. In fact, I liked having Kellie around as often as she was here. She was a sweet girl. Cute and bubby, too. She and Brandon weren't just boyfriend and girlfriend, they were best friends. I couldn't have picked out a nicer girl for him myself.

"... anyway, Kellie's dad said it would be all right if you came, too," Brandon continued. "It's just going to be him, her grandparents, and her aunts, uncles and cousins. I told Kellie you make the best pumpkin pies. Could you bring some?"

It sounded as if my plans were already made. Besides, how could I turn down a chance to be with my son on Thanksgiving?

I drove by myself since Brandon said he and Kellie had plans to go out after dinner. At least I could duck out early, too. Hanging out with a family I didn't know on Thanksgiving would be awkward.

I just didn't know how awkward it would be until the front door opened.

"Uh ... Patty?" said a familiar man at the door.

That familiar man was Kellie's father and Rick, a mistake of a date I had back in July.

Rick and I met over an online personal ad site, and after a couple of emails and a phone call, we decided to meet for a drink and walk down to the town square for a fireworks show. It was the Fourth of July and neither of us had plans.

I thought he was gorgeous, and from first sight he had this dazzling smile that didn't quit all night. I could tell by the way walked, moved and the way his clothes fit that he worked out and had a body that was sculpted, right down to his fingers that reached out every once in a while to toy with my fingers. He had these waves in his dark chestnut hair I thought a time or two about wanting to run my fingers through.

We talked for hours and found things that we were really into immediately – red wines from California, the same favorite players on our hometown baseball team, an equal talent for impromptu and hilarious color commentary over the people watching we did from the sidewalk café.

One drink turned into three, and as the drinks kept coming, his fingers went from just touching mine to wrapping themselves around them and entrapping them. My foot kept finding ways to rub against his ankles to running up and down the back of his calves. Between that smile and those eyes that never left my line of vision, all he had to do was to say, "Let's go back to your place." We were there in less than fifteen minutes.

I was right about that body. Every muscle was defined and looked like poetry in motion when he whipped off my halter top, slid my skirt down, and threw me on the bed. He had the most beautifully rounded ass that I could just dig my nails into all night long if it hadn't been for the way he hadn't pinned them over my head while he bit on my nipples and finger fucked me. He went like a machine on an assembly line, pumping out copious spurts of cum all over his fingers and hands. He spread my slick juices over my belly and around my hips until he lifted them to plunge away at me with his cock of steel.

I clamped my feet over his shoulders to brace myself against the non-stop orgasmic temblors that he sent through my body. He ordered me to tell him how I liked it, and to tell him as loudly as I could. The louder I was, the harder and deeper he drove into me. When he wasn't focused on the fascination of his cum-shined shaft sliding in and out of me, his eyes were on me.

We had totally forgotten about wanting to see the fireworks. We never heard them was we were making them on our own.

I sent him a text the next morning telling him about how I woke up with a wonderful smile I woke up with on my face, thinking I'd hear back from him for a request for Round 2. I kept checking my phone expecting to get a text or a voice mail. My mood sullened throughout the day as I never got a response back. By the end of the night, I felt like a whore that got cheated out of not only my dignity, but the appreciation of my best fuck ever.

That episode cooled my jets for a while. I went on a few dates here and there, but nothing that went beyond a dinner or a show with a couple of nice men I couldn't see wasting my time with or theirs. Even if I had the opportunity to get intimate with a man, I hadn't come across one that could have convinced me more than the way Rick did, and I hated him for it.

So here he was at the door with an awkward silence separated me, him and four boxes of pumpkin pies.

"Gosh, Dad, are you just gonna stand there and let Brandon's mom hold onto those pies or do I have to remind you to be a gentleman?" Kellie said as she came bounding to the door to see me.

"Yes, Kellie, you do," I thought to myself as I tried to plaster a smile on my face the best way I knew how.

Rick took the boxes off my hands and Kellie and Brandon took me around to introduce me to the rest of the family.

Either Rick really enjoyed cooking or he found the kitchen to be a very convenient hideaway. It was fine with me. As long as he wasn't around, I was managing as well as I could spending Thanksgiving afternoon with my son, his girlfriend, and nineteen strangers who happened to be related to him. They all seemed to like me, especially Rick's parents, who went out of their way to tell me what a nice young man I had.

My luck ran out at dinner. The only seat in the house was next to Rick. I tried to hide my wince every time Brandon and Rick would say something funny that one of them did between each other in the eleven months they knew each other. Brandon had told me often how cool Kellie's dad was, but seeing how these two bonded made me feel incredibly uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that all I could manage to do was push my food around my plate with my fork.

What was I supposed to do? Tell Brandon that I didn't want to see Kellie anymore? With him being nineteen, it wasn't my place. Besides, I really liked Kellie. She was a good girl and good for my son.

"Patty, I have to tell you that you have quite the son," Rick said as if he were being unfamiliarly polite with me. "If it were up to me, I couldn't have picked a better young man to date my daughter."

"Thank you," I said tersely without looking at him.

Under better terms I would have told him that I thought the exact same way about Kellie. Instead, I tried my best to start a conversation with anyone else at the table. I seemed to have charmed the pants off Rick's parents who seemed more than impressed that I was a curator at the historical museum. I took a special kind of delight to see Rick squirm when he heard his dad say that he would make a point of making a very special donation to our new exhibit before the end of the year.

As soon as dinner was done, I saw my opportunity to get the hell out as soon as Brandon and Kellie say they were going out for the night, except Rick stopped me right outside of the front door.

He looked at me with sheepish, apologetic eyes, and said, "I owe you an apology for being a jerk."

I wanted to say, "When? Today or back in July?" I kept my mouth shut. I could tell he had more to say, even if it wasn't coming immediately out of his mouth.

"I really want to make this right for the kids," he said. "Kellie already went off on me like white on rice for being rude to you. "

I wanted to make things comfortable for the kids, too, but I didn't want to go too easy on Rick.

"Tell me this," I said, "Is the reason why you never called back was because you thought I was some kind of loose slut? The kind of woman you couldn't have around your daughter? The kind of woman you couldn't bring around to meet your parents? Because if those were your assumptions, I blew them right out of the water."

He looked humble, and said, "You proved yourself before you came into my house. Your son is an awesome kid. If I had my way, I wouldn't want another gentleman around my daughter. I don't see that continuing until I start treating his mother like a lady."

For the first time since July I saw that bewitching smile come across his face. He lifted my chin up to make sure I could see it. I really wanted to fall for it like I did the last time. I just stood there not knowing what to say until he said, "And I also have a weakness for sexy women who are confident. Confident enough to handle a situation like today with class."

He kissed me open-mouthed on the front porch just long enough to make the first winter chill in the air feel like that balmy Fourth of July evening when he melted my inhibitions away.

Then he pulled away, put that smile back on his face, winked, and said, "Good night. Drive home safely."

I didn't remember how I got home. My mind was in a blur over everything that transpired over those past few hours ... The awkwardness of finding out my son's girlfriend's father was a one-night stand ... Surviving the most awkward Thanksgiving Day ever with a family I didn't know except for my son and his girlfriend ... Getting the most gentlemanly and sincere apology from a man that came with one of the sexiest seductions ever.

I didn't quite know how to process it all. I had a glass of wine that put me right to sleep.

Every Day Will be Like a Holiday Ch. 02



I got home from Black Friday shopping the next afternoon and found a long florist's box with a big red bow on the dining room table. I was just about to open it until Brandon ambled down the staircase.

"That just came for you," he said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

I told him that I didn't, and then he asked, "So what was that weirdness between you and Kellie's dad about yesterday?"

I couldn't tell him that we had met and that he was an embarrassing one-night stand. I just told him that I didn't know what he was talking about. I'm sure Kellie told him how she chewed Rick out.

All I could tell him was, "It was just awkward meeting Kellie's dad like that, but we had a nice talk after the two of you left. He thinks you're a great kid, and I told him what I thought about Kellie."

He gave me a hug and said, "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot to me. But do you want to hear something weird? When I brought Kellie home last night, her dad gave me a hundred bucks and told me to take her out and do something special with her tonight and not to come home too early."

My heart sank. That sounded like he had some big plans for the evening. And he had the nerve to come on to me the way he did last night?

"Player," I thought. "I should have known better."

I feigned a laugh the best I could and said, "That's the old ploy to make sure that you don't come knockin' when the house is a-rockin'."

Brandon looked a little surprised to hear me say something off-color like that, especially about his girlfriend's father. He told me that he was off to get a haircut before he picked up Kellie, and said, "Well, at least you'll know I'll be out late tonight."

After Brandon left I opened the box and found a dozen long-stemmed red roses and a leather riding crop. There was a note tied to the crop that read: "I'm sure you heard the kids have plans for the night. I'd like to make plans of our own. Meet me at La Dolce Vita at 7. Leave the crop in the car in case we have a 'switch' in the plans. Yours, R."

I wasn't quite sure how to take this. This was a man who used me as a one-night stand, was my son's girlfriend's father, and now wanted to patch things up with a dozen roses, a fancy Italian dinner, and a bit of BDSM?

I dialed Rick's number.

"What if I said, 'No'?" I said.

He lowered his voice in almost a whisper and said, "I suppose I'd have to beg."

"Beg," I said.

"Please allow me the pleasure of spoiling you for the evening tonight," he said. "Whatever you'd like me to do to make up for my transgressions, I'll be happy to oblige."

"What if I said, 'No'?" I said again.

"Then that would call for a switch in plans," he said. "I know where you live. I know your son is out for the evening. I know you have a dozen red roses with petals I could brush across your alabaster skin ... slowly. I know you have a brand-new crop that's begging to be broken in. Begging the way you did for me that night we first met."

"So I really don't have a choice, do I?" I said.

"You have two choices," he said. "Meet me for dinner and I'll treat you like a lady or I'll come out to see you and treat you like a whore."

"Come here and pick me up for dinner at 6:30," I said.

La Dolce Vita wasn't the typical place for the parents of a college-age couple to get to know each other. It was more of the kind of place a man took a woman when he absolutely, positively had to get laid, or in Rick's case, absolutely, positively had to apologize for being a ginormous jerk. Candles on the tables provided most of the lighting in the dining room. The volume of Italian love songs on the sound system were just loud enough to provide some privacy so you couldn't hear couples at nearby tables sharing sweet nothings with each other. The cream sauces slipped down your throat like liquid velvet. The veal melted in your mouth like butter on skin in the Mediterranean sun.

But here we were talking about their kids. We both admitted we wanted what they had. They were best friends, supportive of each other, and all they did was laugh at and with each other when they were together.

"So you didn't see that happening with us when we first met?" I asked.

He paused, took in a deep breath, and said, "I did. Absolutely. You'll just never believe what happened."

"I probably won't, but tell me," I said.

"The next morning, my phone got hacked," he said. "I lost all of my phone numbers, messages, email and apps. I had to get a new phone number."

"Uh huh," I said, not believing him.

"Ask Kellie," he said. "She'll tell you that she heard every curse word in three different languages come out of my mouth for at least three days. What she won't tell you is that the thing I was swearing about the most was not being able to find your phone number or your ad on the dating site."

I admitted that I pulled the ad the day after I didn't hear from him. I was pissed and didn't want to go through that kind of drama again.

"If only I knew how easy it would have been to get your number," he said. "The other thing that wasn't easy was finding your house. I got lost in your subdivision five different times."

He had me wrapped around his finger, literally, hooking his pinky finger around mine over the top of the table, the tips of our toes touching underneath. It felt like he was kissing me deeply with those eyes, those deep chestnut eyes that pierced me down to my inner core.

"So, where would you like things to go from here?" I asked, challenging him, tempting him, and really wanting to know.

He twirled strands of fettuccine on his fork and fed me a forkful of puttanesca. He stared at me as it slipped into my mouth, and said, "I love watching the ends of those strands of noodles slip between your lips."

"You haven't answered my question," I said.

He brought my glass of Valpolicella to my mouth and said, "I'm sorry, I was distracted about the things I could imagine sliding between your lips."

He gave me another sip of wine.

"Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" I asked.

"I don't want to get you drunk," he said. "In fact, I want you to leave that last bit of wine in your glass. And I have a feeling I don't have to take advantage of you."

"Really?" I asked.

To anyone else, Rick looked like he was cutting into his osso bucco. What he also did under the cloak of a long linen tablecloth was slip his shoe off, stretch his leg under the table, wedge his foot between my legs, and rub his stockinged foot over the front of my silky G-string panties. His foot then slipped over the top of my thigh and under the strap of my garter belt. He lifted it up and let go, letting it snap against my skin.

I closed my eyes for a moment and did my best not to let out a soft moan in front of all the other diners.

"I love stockings," he said as he pulled his foot away and back into his shoe. "I can't wait to see them."

"I can't wait to hear your answer to my question; where would you like things to go from here?" I said.

"My place," he said, and then broke out into laughter before composing himself.

"I'd like more dates like tonight and the one we had on the Fourth of July," he said. "I'd like to have you treat me like a gentleman in public and a manwhore in the bedroom. I'd like for you to still need me and still feed me when I'm sixty-four. Seriously, I'd like to see how things go."

After he signed off on the check, he picked up my glass, gave me the last sip of wine he told me to leave behind, and asked loud enough only for me to hear: "My place or yours?"

From the moment we walked into his house, we had our clothes off and got tangled around each other all the way to his bedroom.

He threw me on the bed, held my arms down, looked at me seriously before locking his lips onto mine. His breathing was heavy and warm. Captivating. I wrapped one leg around his back but didn't have time to get the second one around him. He pulled away quickly, tore my panties off, pinned one leg on the bed, and hoisted the other one straight in the air.

He parted my labia open and traced the tip on his tongue slowly up my moist and tender inner folds all the way up to my clit where he flicked it with his tongue. At that point I couldn't talk. I was totally incapable. The only sounds that came out of my mouth were high-pitched breathy sighs that were a lot louder than sighs should be.

His tongue wiggled its way inside and rolled around my inner walls, tickling them and making me shake and spasm. Watching him, I had never seen a man so focused and immerse in anything quite the way he was in getting me off. For as much as I was enjoying being spoiled, I kept reaching out for his cock. I tried to tell him, but I couldn't. I couldn't string the right order of words together in my head. I couldn't get them out of my mouth. What he was doing to me had totally jumbled my brain.

For all the banter we had earlier hinting about who could out-dominate each other, neither one of us was in control. There was no top or bottom in this situation. When he finally had to thrust his dick inside of me, I was on top, on the bottom, and even upright pressed against the wall. I was afraid we were going to break the glass of the sliding doorway when he had our hands braced against it as he rammed me from behind at full throttle. I thought my legs were going to give out just before I could feel him tense and brace himself just before the onslaught of a fierce and fiery spray of hot, creamy cum that filled me and then dripped down my legs.

We fell back on the floor and he held me as we caught our breaths. Even though the air was cool, we were cloaked in the residual sweat and warmth we had generated.

"I've waited a hundred and forty-five days to do that again," he said.

I counted back in my head and deduced that was how long it had been since we were last together.

"You counted?" I asked, giggling.

"Why sure," he said, stroking my cheek with the side of his finger. "How could I forget an evening like that? Even though I thought I'd never see you again, I never thought I'd meet anyone worthy ..."

I threw a stray pillow off the floor, flung it at him, and said, "Bullshit!"

He raised his right hand and said, "Scouts honor. I'd love to do it again, but I expect a certain prince will be bringing my princess home soon."

We both burst out laughing and joked about having to hide from our kids probably just like they probably went out of their way to keep their sex lives hidden from us.

"I feel like a kid again," I laughed.

He brushed my hair back, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "So do I."



Every Day Will be Like a Holiday Ch. 03



I was laughing all the way into the next afternoon. I couldn't remember a time I've had so much fun with a man, not just in bed, but as a person. In fact, I think I had forgotten how to have fun, at least on the level that I did as a kid and a teenager. But unlike teenagers, the fun was much more exciting, and so was the sex.

While I was in my office, I could hear Brandon and Kellie talking in the family room while they were watching a football game on TV just outside my door."

"I think your mom was right about my dad having a hot date last night," Kellie said.

"Yeah?" Brandon said.

"He was washing his sheets this morning and he was smiling," Kellie said. "My dad never smiles when he does laundry. And it was the second day in a row I saw him washing his sheets."

I immediately got on my phone and started texting their conversation to Rick. He typed back a bunch of LOL's and LMAO's and begged for the full play-by-play.

"I think my mom has a boyfriend, too," Brandon said. "She got roses yesterday."

"Really?" Kellie said. "Who is he?"

"I have no idea," Brandon said. "She didn't say. Wouldn't it be funny if it was you're dad?"

Kellie busted out laughing.

"Yeah, right," she said. "I chewed him out and made him apologize for being a jerkwad to your mom on Thanksgiving."

"I noticed, but she said they talked after we left," Brandon said. "She said he was pretty nice."

"Good," Kellie said, "It would be nice to see them act like grownups."

The reply from Rick read: "I never want to act like a grownup with you. How about if I take you out for pizza and neck in the back seat somewhere tonight?"

I typed back: "Pizzeria Uno at 7?"

Rick: "I'll be there at 6:55."

I showered again and primped myself. I toned down my makeup for a casual evening out and decided on a big, fluffy purple cowl neck sweater and a pair of jeans in case he was serious about necking in the back seat of his Lincoln Navigator. It wasn't the sexiest outfit in the world, but it would keep me warm and give him easy access for getting at least to second base. At least I could surprise him with a matching purple lace bra and panties.

I checked myself out in the mirror in my underpinnings. I imagined how it would feel to have his tongue distracting me while his hands sneaked up my sweater and find the surprise of something fancy and lacy underneath. Would he dare grope the fullness of my breasts that poured out over of the top of my bra, or would he be brave enough to pull the fabric of my bra down and rub my nipples enough to cream my panties.

I imagined his hands fumbling to unbutton and unzip my jeans and climbing over me on the back leather bench. Would he keep my jeans on to make sure I was warm and decent enough in case someone walked or drove by in the lot? Would he play coy by toying with the top of my panties before inching his fingers down to rub them over the soft and tender skin of my labia? How long would it take him to slip them through my slit to massage the milky creaminess from within? Would he lodge his finger deep inside or force it out of me in spurts?

I had the top of my back leaning against the bathroom wall, imagining that it was his hand invading the inside of my panties and pinching my nipples with the other. I was wishing it was his hand that was impatient to bring me to orgasm by rubbing on my clit furiously. My body stretched and tightened, trying to hold itself together until I just couldn't hold back anymore.

"Please, please, please! Let me come, let me come, let me come!" I cried to myself while rubbing and prodding myself every which way possible.

It was almost futile until I imagined the way he looked at me with that persuasive smile, the way he touched me just enough to make me give in to anything that he wanted, and then, "Pow!" I nearly collapsed to the ground and held onto the towel bar to collect myself and catch my breath.

I looked at my watch and saw that I barely had time to finish my hair and makeup and get myself out of the house in time. I threw some cash on the dining room table and ordered a pizza for the kids. I told them that I was going out for the night and that I'd be out late. I saw them look at each other and share a secret giggle before I left out the door.

Over pizza, I couldn't help but ask Rick the last time he necked in a car.

"I only had one serious girlfriend in high school," he said. "Her name was Jackie. She had a big smile, dimpled cheeks, jumbo tits, and she giggled all the time. I spent the first half of my senior year just trying to get her to go out with me, and the other half of the year trying to get her to get all the way. I almost did. We were at the drive-in theater and I was just about to make the move on her. I managed to unclasp her bra to feel her up. Hell, I didn't know what I was doing at the time. I was just happy to touch boobs. I didn't know what to do with them.

"Then a bunch of her friends walked by and saw my car. They decided to stay and watch the movie. Jackie said she couldn't be rude to them or tell them she was just about to have sex. A couple of days after, she decided that we should break up since we were going to different colleges. "

"So you spent an entire year chasing tail?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I was crazy about her. I was heartbroken until I went up to school. I saw her at my class reunion this summer. She married a minister and she's involved with her church's teenage abstinence mission."

I laughed so hard my belly hurt.

"OK, what's your story?"

"Almost the same story," I said. "Fred was my steady boyfriend from about March of my junior year up until the summer between graduation and college. He worked at a pizzeria on Friday nights and Saturday nights were our date nights. If we didn't have someplace to go like a party with our friends, we'd go to the drive-in."

"No way!" Rick said.

"Way," I said. "We'd mess around a bit, but we never got past second or third base. He said he didn't feel right about going all the way in his car. He said he wanted to do it right."

"What a gent," he said. "So, did he?"

"Almost," I said. "It was after graduation and he asked me to come over one morning when his mom was at work. We started making out on the couch in the family room and we left our clothes there. We walked over to his bedroom. It was the first time we saw each other fully naked in the daylight, so we were taking our time touching each other and checking out our bodies. Actually, I was stalling. I was scared. As soon as I got the nerve, we heard the side door open and heard his mom call his name. She was sent home from work early. We freaked. She was at his door and wanted to come in to talk to him, and he was trying to hide me in the closet. He faked her out by saying he was taking a nap and wasn't dressed. He waited until his mom went down to the basement to do some laundry until he ran out to get my clothes. He practically pushed me out of the house and had me scrunch under the dashboard until we were a half way down the street just in case his mom looked out the window and saw me in the car with him."

We couldn't stop laughing. Maybe we were a little too loud, but didn't care.

"Well, it sounds like we never got too far doing the back seat thing, and I'm with your friend, Fred," he said. "I'm adventurous, but I'd like to do this right. Let me see if I can find out what the kids are up to."

He called Kellie. She told him that she and Brandon were on their way out to glow bowl.

"Let's go back to my house, I have a surprise for you," he said. "Give me ten minutes to get things ready."

Rick's front door was open just a crack and I let myself in. There was a freshly-poured glass of champagne, a towel and a thick terry cloth robe folded on the table in the foyer. A trail of rose petals led to the doorwall in the family room. Outside, Rick was waiting in the hot tub. I could hear Miles Davis playing on the outdoor sound system.

I stood inside of the doorwall, crossed my arms and rubbed them my hands, signaling it was too cold for me to go outside. He gave me a devilish grin and motioned with his index finger to join him outside.

I cocked my head and gave him a coy look as I unzipped my ski jacket slowly. He leaned back in the tub with a wicked closed-mouth grin.

I slithered the jacket off my shoulders, slid each sleeve off one at a time, and tossed it to the side. My hips swayed into a slow figure-8 motion as I pulled my sweater over my belly, my rib cage, and stalled over my breasts. His hands motioned up, signaling me to show him what was underneath. I turned around to pull the sweater over my head. I turned around to look at him over my shoulder. He motioned his hands to cup his breasts. Another item of clothing flung off to the side before I turned around to run my hands up my torso to cup my purple lace covered breasts for a moment before they trailed back down to the waistband of my jeans. I could see him mouth the word, "Nice."

I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks as quickly as I could before I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. He took a sip of champagne and gave me one nod of his head before I turned around to shimmy my behind as I pulled my skinny jeans slowly past my hips and down my legs, leaving them lie a puddle on the floor. Before I turned around I peeked behind myself and smacked myself on the ass. I saw a hand move down between his legs.

I spun myself around, spread my legs spread shoulder width apart, unhitched the front clasp of my bra, and threw it behind me. I toyed with my nipples as I slipped a hand underneath the waistband of my panties.

Then I heard car doors open in the driveway. I picked up the robe, threw it on, and mouthed, "Oh, shit! Someone's here!"

Rick leapt out of the tub, through the doorwall with his towel and robe dragging behind him, and said, "Quick! In the closet, in my room! You know the routine!"

With barely a nanosecond to spare, I shut Rick's bedroom door behind me before I heard the front door open and Brandon and Kellie's voices spill inside the house. They stopped talking in a very awkward way when I heard Rick ask if they wouldn't mind to give him some privacy for the evening. He offered them some money to go to a movie or wherever they wanted. Thank goodness my son had the manners to say, "No thank you. I have it covered."

I let out a deep sigh when I heard the front door shut followed by the roar of Rick's laugh.

"You can come out my closet coquette," he called.

We keeled over laughing until I realized that my car was parked in the driveway.

Our faces fell for a moment and then we started laughing again.

"So much for defending your honor," he said as he scooped me up, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me out and into the tub.

"It could have been worse," he said as he placed me on his lap, face to face. "They could have seen us like this ..."

His lips plunged into mine for a deep, long kiss. He held onto my back with one hand to keep me from floating away as he grabbed onto on one of my breasts and softly kneaded. My nipple turned hard against the slow motion of his palm massaging against it, which led to a chain reaction of his erection springing back to life against my mound that immediately started filling with fullness and desire. My fingers wove into his gorgeous chestnut brown hair I wanted to weave them through so badly four months earlier. The fingers of my other hand clawed their way down his back to the meaty flesh of his ass. Our embrace locked tighter and tighter until he anchored his cock inside of me, giving us a buoyancy in the bubbles of the water that surrounded us.

I wasn't sure if it was us or the steam rising up from the water or us that made the fat and fluffy snowflakes melt before they touched our skin. I was quite sure that neither was why my chest and my face feel flush and hot or drove me to match his churning motions in the depths of the tub. I felt a burning deep inside myself as I crashed into him orgasm after orgasm until we both hit the absolute peak of passion with a force of a tidal wave.

I collapsed limp into his lap, letting only the water to keep me weightless in his arms. Slowly, I became aware of Miles Davis' trumpet wailing from the speakers until I heard Rick say, "Yes, it could have been worse."

The giggles popped up again like the bubbles of the second round of champagne that Rick poured in our glasses.

"I suppose we'll have some 'spraining' to do once the kids get home," I said with a smile.

"Uh-huh," he said.

"So what's our story?" I asked.

"The truth," he said, sealing it with a kiss.

When Brandon came home later that evening, he looked like he wanted to say something to me. Instead of putting him through the embarrassment of having to ask about my car being in Rick's driveway, I blurted, "Yes, I had a nice time with Rick tonight."

He let out a sigh of relief, and then said, "If I had known, we wouldn't have ..."

"Not to worry, dear," I said. "I didn't know either until I got there."

"Isn't that kind moving kind of fast, Mom?" Brandon asked. "I mean the two of you two were practically at each other's throats on Thanksgiving."

"We weren't at each other's throats; it was a misunderstanding," I said. "We dated before. Things got unintentionally mixed up, and I didn't know he was Kellie's dad."

Brandon was right. Things were moving fast. I had always been the responsible and cautious one. I always spent too much time evaluating a man before I let my guard down. I always waited to see what kind of character and values a man had. I always held out to see if a man was truly kind to and respectful of me. But did that really work? After all, my ex and I split after twelve years ... four years of dating and eight years of marriage. Then again, we never had the kind of sparks that Rick and I had, and I never quite felt this kind of intensity with any other man I've been with. Ever.

For the second time in my life I decided to go for it. It was too bad I regretted the first time.



Every Day Will be Like a Holiday Ch. 04



Rick and I avoided any kind of drama we feared our kids might put us through if they knew we were seeing each other. In fact, Kellie, by way of Brandon, provided him with all kinds of information about me in order to pull off some unexpected surprises. He bought gold circle tickets to see Diana Krall. He sent me a basketful of candles that I lit all over my room whenever he came over for marathon sex sessions. He surprised me with homemade gnocchi and Marinara sauce, my favorite, and the best I ever had. Brandon dropped a few hints about his favorite beer, his favorite cigars, and told me to never ever interrupt him when he watched football.

Brandon was wrong about football.

"That's what DVR's are for," Rick said when I showed up naked with a six-pack of his favorite IPA and a Macanundo.

However, the biggest hurdle to get over would be my parents.

Since Brandon was going be away the week between Christmas and New Year's at his dad's cottage up north with Kellie, I planned to spend a couple of days over Christmas with my parents in Sarasota. Rick insisted on joining me.

"Christmas? With my parents? Really?" I asked. "Are you really sure you want to do that? I'm only staying a few days."

"I know," he said. "You've already met my folks and I'd like to meet yours. And since it's on the way to Jamaica where I thought we could spend a few more days and ring in the new year ..."

I screamed. I jumped in his arms. He spun me around until we both almost fell on the floor. He booked a room at an all-inclusive resort that was just for couples. This was going to be fantastic as long as we could endure the time with my parents. They were great people except I was still their kid, and they were just as overinvolved, overprotective and meddlesome as they were when I was Brandon's age, and they insisted we stay with them ... in separate rooms. I would have the guest room and Rick would get the hide-away bed in the TV room.

"We'll only be there four days," Rick said.

"And how long have we gone without sex since the day after Thanksgiving?" I asked.

"Seventy-six and a half hours, only because I was gone for two days to see a client in Atlanta," he said.

And of course my parents insisted on picking us up from the airport. We couldn't escape to get away if we wanted to. Basically, we would be on lockdown under the watchful eyes of my parents.

"Why waste money on a car?" Dad said with a misplaced sense of dong a good deed when he picked us up at the airport. "We'll be happy to take you anywhere you want to go."

The first place I wanted to go after getting off the plane was to the liquor store. Of course Mom put up a fuss.

"Dear, there's no reason for you to get us anything," Mom said. "Remember, we stopped drinking after Dad retired. Too many of his friends started dropping dead after all the heavy drinking they did when they were young like you and Rick. And ever since we cut red meat and pork from our diets, we've never felt better."

Even Rick's eyes rolled over that that remark and gave my hand an extra tight knowing squeeze as we rode in the back seat of my parents' Buick. Luckily, Dad didn't heed Mom's directives and pulled into the liquor store just before turning into their "active mature adult" development.

Dad whisked Rick away for a round of golf and Mom and I stayed back to make Christmas cookies. Of course she had a hundred and twenty questions about Rick and a hundred and twenty reasons to be fearful of me "going steady" after such a short time. She was afraid he'd take me for my money. (He did well as a small business attorney.) She was afraid that if we got married that he'd cheat on me every chance he got just like my ex did. (It was Rick's ex who did all the sleeping around before they divorced.) She made me promise that he'd get checked out before we decided to have sex. (We already covered that topic back in July.)

By that point, I needed a vodka and lemonade -- a double. Mom made a point of telling me that it was only three in the afternoon.

Luckily, Mom and Dad turned in at nine o'clock. Rick and I headed for the TV room. Mom opened the door without knocking to wish us goodnight and left the door open when she left. Apparently, the "open door" rule from when Fred used to come over to hang out and watch TV when I was a teenager was still in effect.

"So how was golf?" I asked Rick.

"Golf?" he scoffed. "We went out for burgers and single malts at the club. Your old man practically drank me under the table and took me for $50 at poker. And he really loved the cigars I gave him."

I nearly spit out my drink and gave him a high five.

"You're such a bad influence," I said.

"And you're such a bad girl," he leered. "Let's go out on the patio so you can have my cigar."

I raced him out of the room to the kitchen before we headed outside.

Rick spotted a bowl of leftover buttercream frosting in the fridge. He pulled me by the arm, dipped his finger in the bowl, coated my lips with the frosting. He took his time sucking and licking it off my lips, making me melt like the frosting did on his tongue.

"Mmm, girl, you are one tasty gingerbread girl," he moaned. "Got some sprinkles?"

I pulled away to grab the sprinkles and then back to the fridge to grab a jar of leftover Maraschino cherries. I waved them in front of his face.

"If you're good, I'll let you pop my cherry," I said, wickedly.

We cased the refrigerator and the cabinets to find whatever spreadable edibles we could find and snuck out on the patio.

The night was pitch dark, making it easy to go unnoticed outside as long as we stayed quiet.

Rick took more of the frosting, lifted up my T-shirt, and spread it on my areolas, leaving a curlycue at the tip of my nipple and dusting it with sprinkles. The staying quiet part wasn't going to be so easy if he insisted on devouring it. I figured I'd get my revenge by coating his earlobe with a dab of the frosting and whispering, "Eat me," as I licked it off.

"Oh, baby, I want to, but here?" he asked.

"That's why I left my skirt on and my panties off," I said shaking a can of whipped cream.

Rick grabbed the can out of my hand, hoisted me onto the top of the patio table, lifted my skirt over my waist, and spritzed the cream down my slit. He spread my legs apart as he lightly licked the top layer of cream with the tip of his tongue, avoiding contact with my inner folds and my clit.

"Lick me, please," I begged with an almost silent whisper.

"I love it when you beg," he said, giving the can another squirt between my legs.

His tongue went at it again, this time delving just a little bit closer to my tender tissues. His lips, his tongue, his breath were just close enough to tease my tickling nerve endings mercilessly. They felt like thousands of tiny electrical sparks short circuiting. I placed a Maraschino cherry on the top of my clit and demanded, "Eat it, dammit!"

His tongue quickly lapped up every trace of whipped cream like a spatula off my labia, but he made a point of working around my clit. My legs shook and quivered against the firm hold he had on the way he parted my legs. Without words, without a sound, I tried my best to lunge my pussy toward his face to make my point. I wanted him to suck that cherry and the rest of the whipped cream off my clit and make sure all of it was gone. Every last bit of it, and then some.

He pulled his face away from between my legs, stood up, and gave me a devious look. He ripped my skirt off, pulled my shirt up over my armpits, and grabbed a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup. He covered my mouth with one hand while he drizzled a sweet, sticky trail from my pubic bone up my belly to each of my breasts, making sure to leave a healthy dollop of liquid milky chocolate on each nipple.

I had a very good idea of how thorough he would be as his tongue followed the chocolate trail. My legs were still propped up and prone with my heels pounding a steady rat-a-tat-tat on the top of the table as his warm tongue took its time liking my body clean. He took his time savoring each nipple, licking and sucking each one. The louder I tried to moan, the harder he pressed his hand over my mouth.

I could feel the whipped cream on my clit melt and drip. Gagged and voiceless, I grabbed his free hand and motioned it toward my clit. He remained focused on my nipples, devouring and biting them as if he was trying to take first place in a sundae eating contest. Finally, he got around to sucking my clit clean, being very thorough with his tongue to lap up every last bit of cream, cherry juice, and my own love juices that poured copiously out of me. When he pulled away and I let out my last gasp, he gave me a devious smile and said, "My turn!"

He shimmed his shorts down, took a seat in one of the chairs, and dripped a few drops of the chocolate syrup on the tip of his cock that was standing straight and tall.

Of course I knew what he wanted, and I could play his game, too. I took my thumb and two fingers and toyed with his cock at the bottom of his shaft, just barely pulling it down and gently lifting it up. I cast my eyes up at him and just smiled at him while I took my time at a leisurely pace.

"Dammit, woman, I know you want this," he said.

I nodded and kept looking at him while I teased his shaft, building up my speed and power, and feeling it getting larger, harder and firmer with my touch. I finally opened my mouth and brought my head down only to let out a long, light and warm breath on his sac while wiggling his cock back and forth with my fingers. When he arched his back, threw his head back to grit his teeth, and gripped onto the arms of the chair as tightly as he could, I finally took pity on him and took the head of his cock in my mouth.

As I was about to take my tongue to lick the syrup that dripped down his shaft, he started laughing.

"I can't do this," he barely said through a muffled guffaw.

I looked up at him, and asked, "What do you mean?"

Rick didn't say a word. He couldn't say a word. He was doing everything he could to keep himself from busting a gut ... stomping his feet and covering his mouth to hold back an explosive laugh ... but I finally got my answer.

Off in the distance from the side of the house, I could hear my dad muttering something off in the distance, and then a hand smack and short, sharp, high-pitched yelp.

We both covered our mouths and started giggling like schoolkids.

Then we heard another smack and a louder yelp, this time followed by a soothing, "Oooh, darling."

We both started laughing again until I said, "I can't listen to this!"

I could never imagine my mother having sex, let alone getting spanked and liking it.

Rick kept chuckling.

"Hell, I think it's cool," he said, just about on the brink of laughing uncontrollably. "I hope I'll still be chasing tail and smacking ass when I'm their age."

"Seriously, I can't listen to this," I said, grabbing everything I could in my arms to take back into the kitchen. "Come on. Help me clean up."

Rick grabbed me by my waist with both hands, and said, "Oh, clean you up, I will. Last one in the shower is a rotten egg."



Every Day Will be Like a Holiday Ch. 05



I woke up the next morning on Christmas Eve smelling like cream soap and Rick's musk. We spent the evening before in the shower trying to clean various forms of sugar, syrup and other stickiness off each other, but there was no hot water heater big enough in the world that could accommodate the kind of good, clean fun we had gotten ourselves into. 

I lay in bed half awake and half dreaming about the way Rick's hands glided all over the contours of my body with his wet, slippery, soapy hands. I thought about way our bodies slid in synch under the spray of water. I got lost in the memory of the way his wanting cock slid inside of me over and over again as he had me pinned against the tile wall and the way the constant stream of my love juices spilled out of me. I wished I could have drifted off to sleep against his moist naked body last night and woken up next to him this morning, but maybe it was best I didn't. I had to get up to clean the mess I'm sure we left in the kitchen and on the patio last night.

It was barely past the butt crack of dawn and Mom was already cleaning up the smears and smudges we left on the cabinets and countertops. She didn't look too pleased. She gave me that look that made me feel like a kid again, and not in the way Rick did.

"Mom, I'm sorry," I said. "We came out here to get a few things, but it was dark, and we didn't want to disturb you. I thought I'd get up early enough to take care of this."

"It's all right," she said in a tone that I knew was far from "all right." 

I got out the broom to sweep up what we left on the floor and saw that I was going to have to get out a mop and floor cleaner without arousing any kind of additional suspicion.

"I just want to get this all cleaned and organized before I start on all the cooking that I have to do today," she said. "But just how in the world did you make this kind of mess? It looks like a gang of preschoolers blew through here."

I really wanted to tell her if she could let us have the kind of sex that she and Dad enjoyed that maybe we wouldn't have made such a mess in her kitchen, not that we didn't have fun. Instead, I said, "You know I'm here to help you."

Mom didn't say anything. I could tell she was pissed, and I had a feeling that it may have been more than just about waking up to find a mess in her kitchen. Perhaps she knew that food wasn't the only thing we were eating after lights out the night before. I just prayed I could get out onto the patio and clean up the bigger mess out there without arousing any more ire.

By luck, Rick walked into the kitchen. I gave him a sweet, innocent kiss on the cheek, gave him a bottle of spray cleaner and a roll of paper towel, and said. "Could you do us a favor and give the patio a quick cleanup?"

He gave me a secret smile and said, "Sure. Would love to give you ladies a hand."

I looked at Mom. She managed to give Rick half a smile before I joined him on the patio.

"We're busted, aren't we?" he asked with a playful sneer as soon as we got outside.

I sighed. I was already exacerbated, and I haven't even had my morning coffee yet. 

"I don't know what we are, but I'm tired of her being such a control freak," I blurted out while scrubbing the patio table.

He leaned over to me, gave me that Cheshire cat smile, and got right into my face to get eye-to-eye with me to say, "You don't like control freaks? Are you telling me you wouldn't like me to take total control over you? To push you onto that chair, spread your legs, tie them down, and lick that sweet, juicy pussy until you really lose control of yourself?"

He swiftly bent me backward and gave me a deep, long and lush kiss. His tongue flicked at my tongue as if it were my clit. My entire body shivered and shivered some more when he gave me a firm smack on my ass. I almost lost my frame of reference of where I was until he suddenly pulled away. I felt as if I was dropped back into reality like Cinderella's shoe crashing and shattering onto the ground with my cleaning rag in hand with half the patio table still in need of cleaning of sticky smears and smudges.

"No fair!" I screamed at him as quietly as I could.

Rick gave me a wicked grin and went back to the business of scrubbing the chair that was in serious need of cleaning. Heaven forbid someone should sit on a cushion covered in chocolate syrup with their clothes on.

Then he started snickering again, stifling how loud he wanted to be.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

He put a finger to his lips to signal me to "Shh ..." and pointed to the kitchen window. My mom and dad were having an argument disguised as a discussion muffled by the closed window.

"Roger, I just don't like it," Mom said. "Not in my house. They're not married." 

"Oh, Dolores, knock it off," Dad said. "It's not like we had our fun before we got married."

"But not in our parents' houses," she argued back. "They should at least show us some respect."

"We were in college before we got married, for chrissake," Dad said. "Besides, do you really think taking you over taking you over the hood of my GTO bed was respectful?"

Things went quiet and then there were some muffled moans and giggles before I heard Mom say, "No, but it was fun!"

My eyes popped. Rick covered my mouth to keep a roar of laughter from coming out. We cupped our ears to hear more, but we couldn't hear anything except for the kitchen chairs and the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table getting knocked around.

"I just can't listen to this," I whispered.

Rick was not swayed except for his clothed cock that he was pressing against my ass. He licked the curves of my ear, cupped his mouth over it and whispered, "That should be me taking you over the kitchen table right now."

The patio table was right next to us, but it was now broad daylight with the sun lighting up the patio and the entire commons area surrounded by at least a dozen other condos. Surely, every resident was up drinking their coffee and having their breakfast within full view of us.

I pulled Rick by the hand and said, "Let's go for a walk."

He balked. I knew he was getting his jollies overhearing my parents going at it on the kitchen table, but I ignored him. I was too busy peering all over the place as I dragged him to no place in particular.

Like my parents' condo, there was no place to hide in this development. Everything had been built and landscaped in the last five years, and it wasn't as if young palm trees provided any kind of privacy or shelter for sneaking away for an outdoor quickie. 

Then I spotted a storage garage that backed up against a brick privacy wall on the far end of the complex. I grabbed Rick by the hand and started running toward it.

"What the f ..." he started to say. 

I didn't say a thing, but I had a good idea what he would do when I braced myself against the garage wall, pulled him in by the shirt collar, and told him, "Fuck me! Now!"

He tore off my pants, pulled down the zipper of his shorts with lightning speed, pulled my legs around his hips, and plowed his hard cock into me. I held onto him as tightly as I could as we rammed ourselves against the wall. The warming morning sun became almost as hot as the heat that we generated between us. Sweat trickled down my forehead onto his chest and down the tight crevasse between my breasts. It started dripping as copiously as the cum that he pumped out of me that coated his shaft and my legs and ass cheeks. He took advantage of nature's lubricant and rammed his finger up my ass, which shot my orgasm into overdrive. I couldn't hold my orgasm on the edge and wait until he was ready to cum. But as soon as I let out a muffled scream and released the grip that I had around his steel hard shaft, he blasted away in short powerful spurts until he was completely out of breath.

He dropped me to my feet and held me the best he could so that I wouldn't collapse under my shaky, rubbery legs. It was a joyful exhaustion that came on with no thought and no planning, only a desperation to be together away from the watchful, meddlesome eyes of my parents. 

As soon as I caught my first normal breath and was able to bed down to pick up my pants without that dizzying feeling of wanting to pass out, it turned out we were under somebody's watchful eye.

"Shit!" I said in a whispered scream, scrambling to slide my pants up my legs, pull them over my hips, and zip up faster than Rick pulled them off.

Off in the distance was an old white-haired man jerking away as quickly as his droopy shoulders that hung off his baggy light blue golf shirt would let him. He had a googly-eyed gaze and a slack-jawed expression that looked as if he was letting out an involuntary constant stream of drool.

I turned my head away from the man and hung it down so my hair would cover my face. I straightened out my T-shirt, and told Rick, "Don't look. Just get dressed."

Of course he looked and just started laughing while pulling up the zipper on his shorts leisurely and cavalierly. 

"This was your idea, dear," he said, with a devilish grin, pulling my face toward his. 

We both looked the man's way and he was gone. I was finally able to laugh.

"I suppose he was as embarrassed as we were," I said with a giggle.

"I wasn't embarrassed," Rick said, pulling up on the waistband of his shorts and buckling his belt. "We don't know him. He doesn't know us ..."

He was right. What he said made me go from mortified to giggling like an idiot all the way back to my parents' house. They bought the story that we just went out of a walk. I'm sure they were grateful. I assumed their tabletop romp was exactly what my mom needed to loosen up and get on with the preparations for the Christmas Eve open house she planned for later in the afternoon and into the evening. Her bitchy scowling and mumbling had gone the way of being light on her feet and chirping like a bluebird to Christmas carols as she wrapped puff pastry around cocktail wieners and whipped up her pineapple barbecue sauce for the mini meatballs. They were the same things she made thirty and forty years ago. It all made Christmas familiar and cozy again, even if it was 76 degrees and the grass was as green as the leaves of the palm trees.

Even when my parents lived in town, Mom always opened the house on Christmas Eve to family as well as friends as kind of an orphan celebration. She couldn't stand the thought of people who didn't have people and a place to celebrate the holiday. Apparently, word got around their complex and by three o'clock every PT Cruiser and golf cart in the complex surrounded my parents' condo. It was more than enough people for Mom to quit micromanaging the way I arranged stuffed mushrooms on the serving platters and opt out to play hostess with her friends and those who only knew her well enough to hear she was serving free food. One of those people was that man from this morning.

"Rick, he's here!" I said, dragging him from the living room and into the sanctuary of the kitchen.

"Who? He? What?" he asked, trying to get his bearings and trying to make sense of my panic.

"Him," I said, pointing at the old man who stationed himself at the dining room table downing shrimp cocktail like a human garbage disposal. "That guy from this morning. He's here. He knows my parents."

Rick placed his hands on my shoulders as if his touch could keep me from the brink of hyperventilating. "I'm sure he's not stupid or senile enough to do or say anything inappropriate. Remember, you caught him choking his chicken outside as plain as day, right?"

Rick was right, and it was a sight I wanted to forget. A dirty old man wanking off at me, at us. If I knew we were putting on a show for someone, I would rather it been a man as handsome as Rick.

That man remembered us, or at least me, too. He didn't say anything, but he had his creepy secret smile on his face every time I came out of the kitchen to bring out a new tray of food or to clear the dining room and family room of stray plates, napkins and glasses. I couldn't run back to the kitchen each time to hide from his lecherous leer. If he had his druthers, I'm sure he would have whipped out his willy and go back to stroking at the sight of me. 

Dad must have noticed the man's glances he cast at me. He was the only person he went out of his way to introduce me.

"Chuck, this is my daughter, Patty," Dad said. "She and her friend Rick are here to visit us for the holidays."

It was clear the message my dad was trying to convey. This man's stares must have been more obvious than I thought. He readjusted his eyeballs and started awkwardly fumbling over the canapés on his plate as soon as he heard my dad say the words 'my daughter.' He couldn't look me in the eye when he stuck out his hand to shake mine .

I really didn't want to shake this man's hand. I knew where it was earlier this morning, but Rick had no problem shaking it when he walked up. It was if he did it for effect, as a dare. 

Within minutes, Chuck slipped out the door without saying a word to anyone.

"See," Rick said, handing me a vodka spritzer to which he raised his glass to toast. "All I had to do was establish myself as the alpha dog and I knew he'd run off with his tail between his legs."

Once again, he cast that look and that smile that broke me down right to my core. I didn't care who or how many people were around. The only thing I could think to do was to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for a deep, long kiss.

The chatter around us was replaced by sighs and smiles. Even my mom, who I felt I've hide my sexuality from all these years, especially since I've been divorced and these last two days, smiled and gave my dad a quick squeeze of his ass.

In that moment I felt that I conquered an uncomfortable situation and claimed my lust and sensuality for Rick for the world to see. I think he sensed it, too.

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered in my ear, "I hope these people go home early to have sex, because that's what I want to do with you."