Blissemas Wednesday Briefs

“I hate bloody snow,” I sigh, “I hate it. It’s Christmas eve, I have things to do, Christmas lights to see and I’m stuck here inside.”

“Well, the snow isn’t going anywhere any time soon, love. So why don’t you come and join me here by the fire and just relax.”

“Relax? It’s Christmas day tomorrow. I’ve got—”

“Stop, now. You’re so prepared for tomorrow. You’ve been prepared for weeks and here we are, snowed in with a crackling blaze in the fireplace and nothing to do but be together. Let’s just enjoy the moment, yes?”

I think of several sarcastic rejoiners as my anxiety rises. I have to make Christmas perfect because well, I endured many less than perfect ones as a kid. But as I conjure up a list of all I need to do I realise that none of it really matters.

“You’re right,” I sit down beside my husband on the sofa, “I’m sorry.”

“No worries, Cara.” He smiles and brushes my cheek with his thumb, “I love you and your occasional obsessive compulsive blips.”

“It’s a good job I love you or I’d thump you for that.” I laugh and run my hand down his arm.

We settle down together, snuggled into each other in the softness of the couch. We watch the logs crackle and spark, the scent of wood smoke relaxes me. I’ve got a perfect Christmas scene right here and I hadn’t even realised. I had been so wrapped up in my preparations that I’d forgotten to actually enjoy it. I was so tied up in the motions that I forgot to actually practise the goodwill to all men and enjoy the peace of the season. I vowed not to make the same mistake again.

I pushed closer to Mitchell, enjoying his heft beside me. He feels so good. He’s big, wide and hard and I adore how he makes me feel secure, loved and horny as hell. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

“Missed me, I’ve not been anywhere?”

“Mmm, you’ve been so caught up in baking and cooking and buying and making presents and cleaning and decorating and other stuff that I’ve felt like you’ve not been here at all.”

“Oh, well, yeah. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I get all weird about Christmas.”

“I know, hun. But you don’t need to. Christmas with you is always the best, even if we just had beans on toast for dinner. As long as I have you I have all I want, alright.”

I nod and Mitchell wipes away the tear that rolls down my cheek and leans in to kiss me. He has perfect lips for kissing. Plump and giving. He throws his whole self into the interaction of our lips and it stretches to his chest, arms and his body. I find myself pulled into him, pulled on top of him. His hands tangled in my hair, keeping me close to him.

A wicked idea pops into my mind and I kiss down off his lips and onto his neck, I nibble at the flesh where neck meets shoulder and I feel and hear the rumble of his groan in response. I drag up his t-shirt and kiss at the exposed flesh beneath, winding my way lower and lower until I meet the edge of his belt and jeans. I let the top roll back down as I busy myself undoing his trousers and freeing the bulge that is growing there.

“I think you deserve an early Christmas present,” I purr, win k then press my closed lips to the very tip of his dick. I enjoy his saltiness as I pepper closed-mouth kisses all over his straining erection. He’s moaning and whimpering with a build-up of lust, I know what he wants and when he’s writhing beneath me I sink my lips down over him and give him the relief he’s searching for. His hands tangle in my curls and he holds me reverently as I stroke up and down his member with my lips and tongue.

“Fuck, Cara, that’s so good. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come soon, baby. You’re mouth feels so good.”

I suck more eagerly. I want to taste him, want him to fire his orgasm into my mouth. I want to do this for him, completely and utterly for him. I’ve neglected him too much of late. I’ve been wrapped up in my own little obsession. My need to have the perfect Christmas, the kind I never had as a kid. I’d completely missed the point and I realise as I suck him, that this is the most festive thing I’ve done in weeks. I’m giving pleasure, I’m giving a gift and I love it.

“Yes,” he screams, holds my hair in bunches and shoots his climax down my throat. His grip relaxes and he strokes my hair as I lick him clean. “I love you,” He whispers.

“I love you too, Mitch. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry, Christmas Cara. That was perfect.”

And so Christmas begins, I can’t wait to receive my present!