Podcasts about Affair

EPISODE 120 -  “REEL REFLECTIONS: STEVE & NAN'S FAVES IN CLASSIC CINEMA” - 12/29/25  As we say goodbye to 2025, Steve and Nan are wrapping up the year and ringing in the new one with much refection. In this fun episode, join the discussion as they talk about some of their favorite films, movie stars, and directors in a series of fun lists. Get to know our intrepid hosts better and find out just who they think was the Best Villain or Best Screen Kiss or Most Beautiful Actress in the golden era of Hollywood. Steve, Nan, Lindsay, and J.P. also want to thank you all for the steadfast support and kindness throughout the year.  May 2026 bring great things to all of you beautiful listeners out there! SHOW NOTES:  Sources: Wikipedia.com; TCM.com; IBDB.com; IMDBPro.com; Movies Mentioned: Ladies of Leisure (1930); Platinum Blonde (1931); Lady for a Day (1933); Alice Adams (1935); Stella Dallas (1936); My Man Godfrey (1936); These Three (1936); Dodsworth (1936); Come and Get It (1936); Mr. Deed Goes to Town (1936); The Awful Truth (1937); Night Must Fall (1937); Stella Dallas (1937); The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938); You Can't Take It With You (1938); Jezebel (1938); Love Affair (1939); Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939); Wuthering Heights (1939); Dark Victory (1939); The Return of Frank James (1940); The Letter (1940); Citizen Kane (1941); Penny Serenade (1941); Suspicion (1941); Western Union (1941); Meet John Doe (1941); The Little Foxes (1941); Mrs. Miniver (1942); Casablanca (1942); Now, Voyager (1942); Talk of the Town (1942); The Spider Woman (1943); Double Indemnity (1944); Going My Way (1944); The Woman in the Window (1944); Phantom Lady (1944); Christmas Holiday (1944); Ministry of Fear (1944); Woman In the Window (1944); Arsenic & Old Lace (1944); The Bells of St. Mary's (1945); Brief Encounter (1945); Leave Her to Heaven (1945); Mildred Pierce (1945); Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945); The Great Flamarion (1945); Two O'Clock Courage (1945); The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945); Scarlet Street (1945); The Spiral Staircase (1946); It's a Wonderful Life (1946); Notorious (1946); Gilda (1946); The Best Years of Our Lives (1946); Kiss of Death (1947); The Bishop's Wife (1947); T-Men (1947); Nightmare Alley (1947); I Remember Mama (1948); Raw Deal (1948); Cry of the City (1948); They Live By Night (1948); Come to the Stable (1949); Criss Cross (1949); The Heiress (1949); White Heat (1949); Sunset Boulevard (1950); Harvey (1950); Side Street (1950); Winchester '73 (1950); The File on Thelma Jordan (1950); A Place in the Sun (1951); Clash By Night (1952); In a Lonely Place (1953); From Here to Eternity (1953); The Big Heat (1953); Shane (1953); The Clown (1950); White Christmas (1954); A Star Is Born (1954); The Night of the Hunter (1955); The Man From Laramie (1955); A Face in the Crowd (1957); An Affair to Remember (1957); The Tin Star (1957); Giant (1956); Elmer Gantry (1960); Splendor In the Grass (1961); The Manchurian Candidate (1962); Take Her, She's Mine (1963); The Sound of Music (1965); The Singing Nun (1966); Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966); Once Upon a Time in the West (1968); The Way We Were (1973); The Godfather Part II (1974); Ordinary People (1980); --------------------------------- http://www.airwavemedia.com Please contact sales@advertisecast.com if you would like to advertise on our podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

She Thought I Wouldn't Care She Had Dinner And An Affair With A U.S. MarshalBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

She Said I Could Trust Her So I Hired A PI Who Recorded Her Seven-month AffairBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

She Thought I Wouldn't Care She Had Dinner And An Affair With A U.S. MarshalBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

Lost At Christmas: Part 2 A vulnerable confrontation with an old crush. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. Christmas What had started out with the potential for so much disappointment, my first Christmas away from home, was actually quite wonderful. The family embraced me and treated me as one of their own. Dinner was scrumptious, a Christmas ham, with the full complement of side dishes. After dinner we chatted, drank a little too much spiked eggnog, and told stories of the last few years. I sat close to Sheri when I could, beside her at the dinner table, and next to her on the couch while we had our eggnog. I tried to engage her in some quiet conversation of our own, but the setting was all wrong for that, and I eventually abandoned those attempts. It was nice enough just to be near her. Tommy's step-father Dave, insisted I call Santiago, even though I knew the price would be outrageous, and I did. I gave my family my Christmas wishes, and told them how much I missed them and was looking forward to seeing them in a couple of days. Everyone in the room took a minute to say hello and share season's greetings. I had to spend a few minutes trying to get my Mom to stop crying at the far end, before we finally were able to hang-up. The small ones had to go to bed relatively early, and so we all got to open one gift the night before, as was their tradition. I gave Tommy his gift, and his mother opened the family gift and everyone acted pleased. In turn, they had bought me a present which I opened. It was two books for the trip, and they had a card for me. Inside was $50. I was completely in shock. "Dear Steve, Your short visit was a wonderful Christmas gift to us all. Thanks so much for choosing to spend this Christmas with us. Here's some mad money for the trip home. We all love you. Dave, June, Robert, Sheri, John and Jean" I was deeply touched by the gesture. I went over and gave Tommy's Mom a big hug, thanking her for the card and books. The kids jumped up with presents of their own, and I got two new drawings for my dorm room, as well as some mystery invention from John, which was supposed to be a spy tool to stop people from breaking into my room. I thanked them profusely, and they were put to bed shortly after. Dave, Tommy and I discussed the logistics of my morning bus ride back to Charleston. It left at 7:30 am, but was only about 15 minutes away, so we figured on getting a 7:00am start. We relaxed around the fire, ruminating on the poor souls who had the job of driving that bus all day Christmas day. There was a guitar in the corner, Greg's. I was surprised he hadn't taken it with him. I went over and grabbed it, and finding it miserably out of tune, I tuned it up. "Play something Christmassy", Tommy's Mom asked, and so I played a couple of tunes. I'm a fair guitarist; I was studying guitar at the Eastman School of Music since it was convenient, and ROTC was picking up the tab, and had improved quite a bit from the days of our first band. I got rave reviews from my small audience, and took requests for a while, before we broke it up. The parents still had some work to do for the kids, and Tommy and I wanted to hit the hay early, in order to catch that 7:30 bus. More hugs and kisses all around, with a firm handshake for Dave, and I retired to my room to finish my packing. I got ready for bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, laid out my clothes for the morning, and completed my packing. I had one last thing I wanted to do before hitting the sack, so I went back into the bathroom, and knocked on the opposite door into Sheri's room. I heard a muffled "Come in" or something to that effect, and opened the door to find Sheri sitting up in bed, brushing her long blonde hair. She was dressed in a nearly see-through pale green nightie that took my breath away. "Hi." I felt incredibly awkward, like I was 16 all over again. She looked up at me, giving me a quizzically upraised eyebrow. "I had a gift for you, but I felt kind of silly giving it to you out there. I hope you don't mind that I waited until now." I handed her a small leather pouch. She took it, laying her brush to the side, and opened it, pulling out a small cross. She stretched out the cord, and looked at me in surprise. "But this is your mountain cross! You always wear this!" She said, looking at me with a strange look I couldn't quite fathom. The cross was one I had found mountain climbing several years earlier. I had been in a small accident. I'd fallen into a glacier fed stream on a mountain trip, while collecting firewood in a storm. I'd almost frozen before I'd made it back to the cabin. Literally. I thought I was going to die. I was staggering the last 20 feet to the building, in a daze, when a friend returning from the outhouse ran into me, and dragged me inside to warm up. The next morning I found a small ivory cross on a rotted leather lanyard at almost the very place I had climbed out of the stream, and I had worn it for years since then. Sheri knew the story. I had told her the whole thing one evening when I had been giving her driving lessons. I don't know what had motivated me to give it to her, but I had had this urge, and I've always been a pretty impetuous person. "I just want you to have it." I explained. She patted the bed beside her for me to sit down then she handed me the cross to put around her neck and turned her back to me. I passed my hands over the head, letting the cross dangle in the valley between her breasts, and she reached back and pulled her hair up and out of the way, so I could latch the necklace on her. When I was done she turned to me, and fingering the cross she thanked me. "I got the strangest call today." She told me. "Strange how?" I asked. "Kathryn called me. We haven't talked probably in over a year, but she called me out of the blue, and we talked about nothing but you for over an hour." She said with a teasing smile. I could feel my face burning from the blush. We were real quiet for a bit. Then she spoke up softly, not looking at me at all, just looking down at her hands. "Do you remember the skating party where you asked me to skate, like 5 times?" "Do I ever! My hand was so sweaty I was embarrassed to hold yours, but didn't know how to dry it off, and I wasn't good enough a skater to make a real dance out of it." I laughed. "I thought you liked me, and were going to ask me out, but you never did. Why not?" She asked. The memory was embarrassing, and I thought about it a bit before confessing. "I had skated with Kathryn earlier in the evening, and she asked me who I liked. I told her I would answer by the end of the evening. Later, just when I was trying to get the nerve up to skate with you again, and ask you to sit by me on the Pensacola bus trip, Jack found me and told me that I had better ask Kathryn to skate. She was waiting for me to tell her something. Well, I did ask her to skate, and she reminded me of our previous conversation. I admitted that I really liked two people, you and her. Then she asked me if I minded if she 'monopolized' me for a while. I went along. You know the rest. One out-of-town bus trip; one back-row of the movie; and me completely screwing everything up." She listened without showing too much surprise. "But how come you never tried anything after that?" "God! How could I? You knew everything that had happened. Don't you remember the time I stopped by when Net was over here spending the night. Every time I passed you guys, you seemed to be laughing at me. And then when you passed me in the hall and whispered, "Oooh, I Love You," teasing me with what I'd said to Kathryn before completely blowing her off, I was just devastated. I hadn't screwed up just the one chance, but you as well." Sheri had the grace to blush from embarrassment at that. "I really didn't know much of what was going on. Kathryn just told me to go up to you and say that. I'm sorry." "Not half as sorry as I was." I told her. "You had to know how much I liked you. I was always trying to be around you and do things with you." "I didn't know how much of that was just being Tommy's sister, or what. I kept waiting for you to try something, anything, but you never did." She looked at me intensely almost with anguish. I was 16 all over again. I was still embarrassed over my ineptness around women. I had screwed things up with Kathryn. I had screwed up with Teri. And I had screwed up with Sheri. Since then I'd had more than my share of success with the young women I'd known, but all of a sudden, it was like I was a clumsy, scared virgin all over again. Sheri looked at me for a long while, then finally sighed and looked away, picking up her brush and going back to brushing her hair. "Some things will never change, I guess," she muttered, ignoring me. I started to get up, to go to my room, knowing this was neither the time, nor the place to try to start something with Sheri, but I just couldn't leave things as they were. I reached out and took the brush from her, which she relinquished slowly. I then took her by the shoulders and turned her away from me, so I could brush her hair. I brushed her hair in silence for a bit, before speaking. "For at least a year after leaving here, I would dream about you all the time. You were the girl of my fantasies. We wrote so well for a while, and I kept all your letters, reading them over and over again, looking for hidden meaning in the words, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to be with you. I still have those letters." I confessed. Several long seconds later Sheri reached down to the bottom drawer of her chest, next to the bed and opened it. She reached under her sweaters, and pulled out a pile of letters held together with a rubber-band. I recognized my writing. She turned to look at me, and her eyes glistened. I dropped the brush, leaned over and nervously kissed her, hoping beyond hope she wouldn't throw me out of her room with a ruckus. Instead she turned, and returned my kiss with a depth and passion I could only have prayed for. When we broke apart, we just looked at each other. Suddenly I couldn't help but giggle. "What?" She asked, almost crossly. "Do you remember how you thought you'd get pregnant from French kissing?" I recalled. She blushed again. "I can't believe you still remember that, you beast. How did you find that out anyway?" "Kathryn told me on the bus trip. I think she was trying to make you seem naive to me, sort of solidify her hold on me." I told her. "That Bitch! She always denied it, but I couldn't think of anyone else who knew." We laughed a bit, and gradually fell back into kissing each other. At the next break in our kissing, Sheri nailed me again. "Tommy said you did it with Angela. Was she your first?" "No. I never did do it with her. And Colleen was my first." I admitted. "Colleen? From yearbook?" "Yeah. But not until a year later. She went to Mosley with me, and we hooked up at a party. It was weird and nothing much happened of it. Three weeks later I was headed to Chile." I told her. She just shook her head at me. "Since it's time for true confessions, who was your first?" I asked teasing. "Rich? Mike?" "Oh God, no!" she laughed. "Then who?" She never answered, just turned a bright red. "Come on, fair's fair. I told you." I urged her relentlessly. She mumbled something I couldn't make out. "I can't hear you, who was it?" I teased again. She looked up, almost fiercely. "Nobody, all right?" I was stunned, and the ensuing silence seemed endless. "You're kidding me." I finally said, hardly believing. Her answer was so soft I almost missed it. "At one time I thought you'd be my first." This time when we kissed, I allowed my hands to wander, throwing caution to the wind. I cupped her perfect young breast in my hand, letting my thumb brush across her nipple, getting it hard. We were both gasping when we broke apart. "Steve?" "Yes?" "Go close your door, and turn off your light, then turn off the light in the bathroom," she said softly. I did, and she had turned down the light in her room. She was lying in the bed, the covers folded down neatly, waiting for me. She was still in her nightie. I stood beside the bed and made my commitment. I removed my shirt, and then my shorts, sporting a huge hard-on, which she stared at in wonder. I climbed into her bed completely naked. She had been laying sideways, leaning on her elbow, but as I entered the bed, she rolled onto her back, lying down, waiting for me. She was achingly beautiful in the dim light, and I was afraid I was going to come on the spot if she even touched me. I leaned over her and kissed her, but this time the kiss never stopped. I lost my soul in that kiss. I lost all track of time and presence. Our mouths stayed connected as we explored and played with our tongues, and my hands embarked on their exploration of the wonders of her body. My hands touched her all over, before finally settling in the warm crease between her legs. She had panties on, and as my fingers rubbed up and down her hidden folds, I found a small wet spot, maybe the size of a dime slowly spreading. Once I was aggressively rubbing her, sliding the material up and down, half-an inch into her by this time, the wetness enveloped the entire area. I slid my hand less than a foot up her body, and let my finger tips creep under the band of her panties. My hand slid down, the soft down of her hair like a magical lure, the gentle pressure of her panties against the back of my hand trapping me. Our kiss finally broke, and from an inch away we looked into each other's eyes as I slowly slid my middle finger between those forbidden lips, and into her. The aroma of her need assaulted me, and the quiet squish of her wetness against my finger was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was engulfed with desire. I started to crawl over her, placing my knee between hers when she stopped me. "Wait." Then she raised her hips, and scrunched down, raised her knees, moments later passing me a small, but incredibly erotic piece of plain, white material. I was beyond reason, and I climbed between her legs. She spread them for me, seeming as eager as I. I grabbed my throbbing rod in hand, and by feel, rubbed the head up and down her moistness, adding pressure bit by bit, until I felt it settle in at the mouth of her pussy. She gave a small gasp, as the head slid in just a bit, not quite in her yet, but knowing that I was one small push from being inside. "Be gentle," she said, and I could see a hint of nervousness and fear in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her softly, and while our lips touched, I pushed, sinking into her. At least for a bit. About halfway in I hit a barrier. I was confused at first. I pulled back and pushed again, a little harder, thinking I was sticking, and she grunted a little as if in pain. It finally sunk in. I had been with plenty of women, and several who had claimed to be virgins, but none with their cherry intact. I wasn't sure what to do. I probed again, and this time elicited a small 'ow'. What was I to do? I lay on top of her, my cock buried four inches deep in the girls of my dreams, and I was at a complete loss. Sheri shifted a bit under me, wrapped her legs around mine, and pulled me close. She whispered into my ear. "Take me." It was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. Nervously I pulled back until I was just at the opening and I drove down hard, feeling just a pinch before my pelvis was grinding into hers. I was completely inside her. I got up on my elbows and looked down at her. I could see a single wet trail that glistened from the side of her eye to her ear. "Are you ok?" I asked her, holding myself still, deep inside of her. "Wonderful," she said softly, tilting her chin up slightly for a kiss. I accepted the offer, and kissed her gently, while I experimented with moving my cock within her incredibly tight sheath. I felt I was only moments from coming, but I couldn't resist moving my hips just a bit, exploring the feeling of being inside her. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I always wanted you. You knew it. I knew it. But I was afraid. I was afraid of the ribbing from your brother. Afraid of being exposed for knowing nothing about what to do with a girl. Afraid of ruining our friendship. Afraid of striking out, and you telling all the other girls, and my being the laughingstock. Afraid of so many stupid things. I was an idiot." "You weren't afraid of Kathryn," she answered softly. "She initiated it all. She pushed forward, asking to monopolize me, holding my hand. I probably never would have made the move. If I could change one thing, it would be that skating party. I should have saved that last moonlight skate for you, and asked you out. I should have told Kathryn that you were the one girl I was interested in. Who knows how things might have worked out? Plus, it wasn't as big a deal. If things didn't work out, oh well. But if I ruined things with you, it would have killed all my dreams." She was hot beneath me, her skin almost burning to my touch, I was finally moving inside of her, but I quickly had to stop, again on the verge of coming, and embarrassed at my short trigger. "Make love to me Steve," she said breathlessly. I gave a few more strokes and had to stop again. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so excited I'm on the verge of coming now. If I move I won't be able to stop," I finally confessed. "Do it. Pump me, take me, come deep inside me," she answered. Those words were too much, and with a gasp I drove my cock in hard, and exploded inside her. I pulled back and slammed into her a dozen times or so, making the bed creak alarmingly as I emptied myself inside her virgin moistness. As my heart hammer away in my chest, and my breathing gasped, she gave me a small joyous laugh. "Wow, I guess you were close!" Then she gave a big hug before she pushed me off of her. She climbed over me, her hand pressed between her legs and scrambled into the bathroom, waddling inelegantly but still incredibly arousing to me. I heard her tinkle, and then return to the bed with a facecloth with which she wiped my semi-hard cock clean. Then she climbed into bed, her head on my shoulder and talked. She recounted almost ever time that we'd been together alone, all the adventures we'd had, the summer we'd learned to play tennis together, and what she'd thought might happen. We laughed a little at my ineptness and her caution as well. Then I felt her hand creep down between my legs. "Do you think we could try that again?" she asked me hesitantly. "I'm dying to, but I was afraid I might have hurt you." I laughed my foolish insecure laugh. "So hurt me," she teased, giving a tug on my cock. This time I held out a little better. I climbed between her legs again, and made love to her, still gently, still nervous. But before long I was feeling that familiar rhythm of need, and my strokes became longer and more insistent. I had to have her. I had to take her. I had to fill her deeply, completely. I sat up in the bed, discarding the covers, and raised her legs, pushing them back, and screwing her powerfully, shaking her body, crashing into her with a burning need. She was still wearing her nightie, but it had ridden up above her belly button, just a couple of inches below her breasts. I stopped my motion and whispered to her, "Rise up on your elbows." She looked at me oddly but did, raising her head a few inches off the pillow. I leaned over and lifted her nightie up above her breast, allowing me to see the objects of my desire and fantasies. "God, I've pictured those in my mind for four years, and yet never came close to imagining how perfect and beautiful they are." I said, more to myself than to her. I resumed my fucking, for that was what I was doing now, fucking her. Fucking her hard. She had her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and now she was holding her nightie in her hands, almost to her chin, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her oh-so-perfect tits. The visuals were all too much and pushed me over the edge once again. The beautiful face, the long hair arrayed across the pillow, the full breasts, bouncing a counter-beat to my pounding, her flat stomach, hollowed, and the light fur of her hair parted to allow my pole to penetrate her again and again. With a moan I came for her again, collapsing beside her, sated, and in complete serenity and joy. "I guess you really do like me," she laughed, cuddling up to my side. Then she was asking me about my afternoon meeting with Kathryn. "What did she tell you?" I asked, a little nervous. "No, you tell me what happened. I don't trust her," she insisted. I told her the whole story, including the ending. In full short-but-sweet detail. "I knew it!" She laughed. "She said you tried to come on to her, and made her grab you there, but she turned you down." "If that's how she wants to tell it that's fine by me. I owe her one; let her have it however she wants." I said "When you went to the movies, what really happened there?" she asked, with her one-track mind. I wasn't sure what her preoccupation was but I finally told her the whole scene, everything I'd done, every liberty I'd taken. At the end I waited in judgment. "She's such a liar. She said you tried to reach inside her pants but she stopped you." "Hardly, I could smell her on my fingers for day afterwards." I laughed. Sheri was lost in thought pressed up against me. My hands were idling rubbing her back, the material of her nightie soft and silky against my fingertips. "I guess there's only one thing she's done with you that we haven't done," Sheri started, and then she slid under the covers and a moment later I felt the warm wetness of her mouth enveloping me. I could see the covers moving as she used her mouth to pleasure me, taking only a few moments to make me hard, and then sucking me like there was no tomorrow. Which, in a way I guess there wasn't. I wanted to see her, so I pulled the covers back and looked down at her. She continued a few more strokes, then shifted and faced me a little more, finally lifting her eyes to watch me, watching her, suck my cock. A few more deep strokes and she pulled off with a smile. "I can see that's one thing you like," she said with a grin. "Like is an understatement." I laughed. She gave me a couple more sucks, and then she straddled me, and rose up to take me inside of her again. I wanted her so bad I could almost scream. She got me positioned right, and then slowly lowered herself the full length of my staff with one long, smooth stroke. Then, settled on my hips, my turgid meat buried in her achingly tight recess, she lifted the bottom of her nightie and pulled it up and over her head. I'd been to several strip shows before that, but never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful or so erotic. I could feel my pulse in my cock, throbbing inside her. She opened her eyes wide, and looked down between her legs. "Wow, I could feel that. At least one part of you really likes to see the girls," she laughed, holding her breasts cupped in her hands, and jiggling them for me. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I told her. "Right, and now I guess you're going to tell me you love me, just like Kathryn." She said it with a hint of bitterness I didn't understand. "The difference is back then it was the hormones of a 16 year old talking. You on the other hand, I've loved for three years. And you know it." I said, and only as I spoke the words did I realize to my very soul, just how true it was. Sheri didn't answer. She leaned forward and rocked back and forth on my hard cock, enjoying the feeling of controlling the penetration, the pace, the timing. She paced herself to my breathing and excitement. When I started to get really excited she'd slow down and hold me, letting me ease back from the edge. When I was strong and ready, she'd ride me hard. She let my hands explore her as she did the work, and I touched her everywhere I could reach, just wallowing in the sensations. I pulled her down within reach, and tasted her nipples, playing with those perfect globes. The feel of her breasts, that impossible soft pale skin under my lips, making way to the crinkled, tougher skin, peaking to a little nub seemingly designed for me to tease and taste. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of sensual, erotic play, she laid down on me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her mouth on my neck, while she slowly rocked her hips, fucking herself gently on my rod. "Come for me Steve," she said, almost as a command. I reached down and took her full, soft ass cheeks in my hands, grasping them tight, and I held her up a bit off of me, so I could us my hips to drive in and out of her channel more completely. I was able to get a good long stroke established, and I could feel the cool air brushing against my wet shaft each time I pulled outward. We had made love for what seemed ages before she issued that first command for me to come. Now she issued another one. "Tell me again." I couldn't hold back any longer, and didn't want to. I was fucking the prettiest girl I'd ever known; The first girl that I had really badly wanted; The sweet little virgin that I had fantasized about for so long; Whose pretty face had been the image I'd been picturing as I filled enough old gym socks with cum to fill a stadium. "I love you, Sheri. I've loved you as long as I've known you." And with that I pulled her down hard on my cock, coming inside my dream girl again, and absorbing the feeling, knowing I was leaving within hours, not knowing when I'd see her again. "I love you, Steve," she said, I could feel her tears rolling down the side of my face. I looked up to see the sky lightening with the coming dawn, and thought to myself, "That's another one you've got up on Kathryn." I disentangled myself from her limbs and kissed her. "I have to go. Tommy's going to be looking for me any minute." Somehow we had spent the entire night reminiscing, sharing and making love. It was so difficult, but I tore myself from her arms, tucked her in bed, and kissed her goodnight. "Get a couple of hours of sleep; I'll be able to sleep on the bus." I told her. She was still wearing the cross I'd given her. She held it now. "Thanks for the Christmas present." She said with a small sad smile. I kissed her again, and retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. Back in my room, I dressed, and found a present waiting for me on my suitcase. A 8 by 10 picture of Sheri, as beautiful as I'd ever seen her, with a small inscription on the back. "Merry Christmas. Don't forget about me. Love, Sheri" I had just finished putting it away when Tommy knocked on my door, dragging me out to breakfast, and then off to the bus. The rest of that trip was uneventful; I made it home OK, picked up some presents in Panama, saw some old friends, and made it back to college in one piece. But I'll always recall that first Christmas away from home, and the greatest Christmas present I ever received. Not my first erector set, or the 114 piece Lincoln Log tube. Not my first really Cool bicycle, a purple spider bike with banana seat, big handle bars and a three speed shifter on the bar. Not my first electric guitar, a Fender, and amp, which I think my parents had some second thoughts about. No, Sheri's was the nicest gift I ever received, and probably ever will receive, for Christmas. "Thanks" just doesn't seem to say enough. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Lost At Christmas: Part 2 A vulnerable confrontation with an old crush. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. Christmas What had started out with the potential for so much disappointment, my first Christmas away from home, was actually quite wonderful. The family embraced me and treated me as one of their own. Dinner was scrumptious, a Christmas ham, with the full complement of side dishes. After dinner we chatted, drank a little too much spiked eggnog, and told stories of the last few years. I sat close to Sheri when I could, beside her at the dinner table, and next to her on the couch while we had our eggnog. I tried to engage her in some quiet conversation of our own, but the setting was all wrong for that, and I eventually abandoned those attempts. It was nice enough just to be near her. Tommy's step-father Dave, insisted I call Santiago, even though I knew the price would be outrageous, and I did. I gave my family my Christmas wishes, and told them how much I missed them and was looking forward to seeing them in a couple of days. Everyone in the room took a minute to say hello and share season's greetings. I had to spend a few minutes trying to get my Mom to stop crying at the far end, before we finally were able to hang-up. The small ones had to go to bed relatively early, and so we all got to open one gift the night before, as was their tradition. I gave Tommy his gift, and his mother opened the family gift and everyone acted pleased. In turn, they had bought me a present which I opened. It was two books for the trip, and they had a card for me. Inside was $50. I was completely in shock. "Dear Steve, Your short visit was a wonderful Christmas gift to us all. Thanks so much for choosing to spend this Christmas with us. Here's some mad money for the trip home. We all love you. Dave, June, Robert, Sheri, John and Jean" I was deeply touched by the gesture. I went over and gave Tommy's Mom a big hug, thanking her for the card and books. The kids jumped up with presents of their own, and I got two new drawings for my dorm room, as well as some mystery invention from John, which was supposed to be a spy tool to stop people from breaking into my room. I thanked them profusely, and they were put to bed shortly after. Dave, Tommy and I discussed the logistics of my morning bus ride back to Charleston. It left at 7:30 am, but was only about 15 minutes away, so we figured on getting a 7:00am start. We relaxed around the fire, ruminating on the poor souls who had the job of driving that bus all day Christmas day. There was a guitar in the corner, Greg's. I was surprised he hadn't taken it with him. I went over and grabbed it, and finding it miserably out of tune, I tuned it up. "Play something Christmassy", Tommy's Mom asked, and so I played a couple of tunes. I'm a fair guitarist; I was studying guitar at the Eastman School of Music since it was convenient, and ROTC was picking up the tab, and had improved quite a bit from the days of our first band. I got rave reviews from my small audience, and took requests for a while, before we broke it up. The parents still had some work to do for the kids, and Tommy and I wanted to hit the hay early, in order to catch that 7:30 bus. More hugs and kisses all around, with a firm handshake for Dave, and I retired to my room to finish my packing. I got ready for bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, laid out my clothes for the morning, and completed my packing. I had one last thing I wanted to do before hitting the sack, so I went back into the bathroom, and knocked on the opposite door into Sheri's room. I heard a muffled "Come in" or something to that effect, and opened the door to find Sheri sitting up in bed, brushing her long blonde hair. She was dressed in a nearly see-through pale green nightie that took my breath away. "Hi." I felt incredibly awkward, like I was 16 all over again. She looked up at me, giving me a quizzically upraised eyebrow. "I had a gift for you, but I felt kind of silly giving it to you out there. I hope you don't mind that I waited until now." I handed her a small leather pouch. She took it, laying her brush to the side, and opened it, pulling out a small cross. She stretched out the cord, and looked at me in surprise. "But this is your mountain cross! You always wear this!" She said, looking at me with a strange look I couldn't quite fathom. The cross was one I had found mountain climbing several years earlier. I had been in a small accident. I'd fallen into a glacier fed stream on a mountain trip, while collecting firewood in a storm. I'd almost frozen before I'd made it back to the cabin. Literally. I thought I was going to die. I was staggering the last 20 feet to the building, in a daze, when a friend returning from the outhouse ran into me, and dragged me inside to warm up. The next morning I found a small ivory cross on a rotted leather lanyard at almost the very place I had climbed out of the stream, and I had worn it for years since then. Sheri knew the story. I had told her the whole thing one evening when I had been giving her driving lessons. I don't know what had motivated me to give it to her, but I had had this urge, and I've always been a pretty impetuous person. "I just want you to have it." I explained. She patted the bed beside her for me to sit down then she handed me the cross to put around her neck and turned her back to me. I passed my hands over the head, letting the cross dangle in the valley between her breasts, and she reached back and pulled her hair up and out of the way, so I could latch the necklace on her. When I was done she turned to me, and fingering the cross she thanked me. "I got the strangest call today." She told me. "Strange how?" I asked. "Kathryn called me. We haven't talked probably in over a year, but she called me out of the blue, and we talked about nothing but you for over an hour." She said with a teasing smile. I could feel my face burning from the blush. We were real quiet for a bit. Then she spoke up softly, not looking at me at all, just looking down at her hands. "Do you remember the skating party where you asked me to skate, like 5 times?" "Do I ever! My hand was so sweaty I was embarrassed to hold yours, but didn't know how to dry it off, and I wasn't good enough a skater to make a real dance out of it." I laughed. "I thought you liked me, and were going to ask me out, but you never did. Why not?" She asked. The memory was embarrassing, and I thought about it a bit before confessing. "I had skated with Kathryn earlier in the evening, and she asked me who I liked. I told her I would answer by the end of the evening. Later, just when I was trying to get the nerve up to skate with you again, and ask you to sit by me on the Pensacola bus trip, Jack found me and told me that I had better ask Kathryn to skate. She was waiting for me to tell her something. Well, I did ask her to skate, and she reminded me of our previous conversation. I admitted that I really liked two people, you and her. Then she asked me if I minded if she 'monopolized' me for a while. I went along. You know the rest. One out-of-town bus trip; one back-row of the movie; and me completely screwing everything up." She listened without showing too much surprise. "But how come you never tried anything after that?" "God! How could I? You knew everything that had happened. Don't you remember the time I stopped by when Net was over here spending the night. Every time I passed you guys, you seemed to be laughing at me. And then when you passed me in the hall and whispered, "Oooh, I Love You," teasing me with what I'd said to Kathryn before completely blowing her off, I was just devastated. I hadn't screwed up just the one chance, but you as well." Sheri had the grace to blush from embarrassment at that. "I really didn't know much of what was going on. Kathryn just told me to go up to you and say that. I'm sorry." "Not half as sorry as I was." I told her. "You had to know how much I liked you. I was always trying to be around you and do things with you." "I didn't know how much of that was just being Tommy's sister, or what. I kept waiting for you to try something, anything, but you never did." She looked at me intensely almost with anguish. I was 16 all over again. I was still embarrassed over my ineptness around women. I had screwed things up with Kathryn. I had screwed up with Teri. And I had screwed up with Sheri. Since then I'd had more than my share of success with the young women I'd known, but all of a sudden, it was like I was a clumsy, scared virgin all over again. Sheri looked at me for a long while, then finally sighed and looked away, picking up her brush and going back to brushing her hair. "Some things will never change, I guess," she muttered, ignoring me. I started to get up, to go to my room, knowing this was neither the time, nor the place to try to start something with Sheri, but I just couldn't leave things as they were. I reached out and took the brush from her, which she relinquished slowly. I then took her by the shoulders and turned her away from me, so I could brush her hair. I brushed her hair in silence for a bit, before speaking. "For at least a year after leaving here, I would dream about you all the time. You were the girl of my fantasies. We wrote so well for a while, and I kept all your letters, reading them over and over again, looking for hidden meaning in the words, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to be with you. I still have those letters." I confessed. Several long seconds later Sheri reached down to the bottom drawer of her chest, next to the bed and opened it. She reached under her sweaters, and pulled out a pile of letters held together with a rubber-band. I recognized my writing. She turned to look at me, and her eyes glistened. I dropped the brush, leaned over and nervously kissed her, hoping beyond hope she wouldn't throw me out of her room with a ruckus. Instead she turned, and returned my kiss with a depth and passion I could only have prayed for. When we broke apart, we just looked at each other. Suddenly I couldn't help but giggle. "What?" She asked, almost crossly. "Do you remember how you thought you'd get pregnant from French kissing?" I recalled. She blushed again. "I can't believe you still remember that, you beast. How did you find that out anyway?" "Kathryn told me on the bus trip. I think she was trying to make you seem naive to me, sort of solidify her hold on me." I told her. "That Bitch! She always denied it, but I couldn't think of anyone else who knew." We laughed a bit, and gradually fell back into kissing each other. At the next break in our kissing, Sheri nailed me again. "Tommy said you did it with Angela. Was she your first?" "No. I never did do it with her. And Colleen was my first." I admitted. "Colleen? From yearbook?" "Yeah. But not until a year later. She went to Mosley with me, and we hooked up at a party. It was weird and nothing much happened of it. Three weeks later I was headed to Chile." I told her. She just shook her head at me. "Since it's time for true confessions, who was your first?" I asked teasing. "Rich? Mike?" "Oh God, no!" she laughed. "Then who?" She never answered, just turned a bright red. "Come on, fair's fair. I told you." I urged her relentlessly. She mumbled something I couldn't make out. "I can't hear you, who was it?" I teased again. She looked up, almost fiercely. "Nobody, all right?" I was stunned, and the ensuing silence seemed endless. "You're kidding me." I finally said, hardly believing. Her answer was so soft I almost missed it. "At one time I thought you'd be my first." This time when we kissed, I allowed my hands to wander, throwing caution to the wind. I cupped her perfect young breast in my hand, letting my thumb brush across her nipple, getting it hard. We were both gasping when we broke apart. "Steve?" "Yes?" "Go close your door, and turn off your light, then turn off the light in the bathroom," she said softly. I did, and she had turned down the light in her room. She was lying in the bed, the covers folded down neatly, waiting for me. She was still in her nightie. I stood beside the bed and made my commitment. I removed my shirt, and then my shorts, sporting a huge hard-on, which she stared at in wonder. I climbed into her bed completely naked. She had been laying sideways, leaning on her elbow, but as I entered the bed, she rolled onto her back, lying down, waiting for me. She was achingly beautiful in the dim light, and I was afraid I was going to come on the spot if she even touched me. I leaned over her and kissed her, but this time the kiss never stopped. I lost my soul in that kiss. I lost all track of time and presence. Our mouths stayed connected as we explored and played with our tongues, and my hands embarked on their exploration of the wonders of her body. My hands touched her all over, before finally settling in the warm crease between her legs. She had panties on, and as my fingers rubbed up and down her hidden folds, I found a small wet spot, maybe the size of a dime slowly spreading. Once I was aggressively rubbing her, sliding the material up and down, half-an inch into her by this time, the wetness enveloped the entire area. I slid my hand less than a foot up her body, and let my finger tips creep under the band of her panties. My hand slid down, the soft down of her hair like a magical lure, the gentle pressure of her panties against the back of my hand trapping me. Our kiss finally broke, and from an inch away we looked into each other's eyes as I slowly slid my middle finger between those forbidden lips, and into her. The aroma of her need assaulted me, and the quiet squish of her wetness against my finger was the ultimate aphrodisiac. I was engulfed with desire. I started to crawl over her, placing my knee between hers when she stopped me. "Wait." Then she raised her hips, and scrunched down, raised her knees, moments later passing me a small, but incredibly erotic piece of plain, white material. I was beyond reason, and I climbed between her legs. She spread them for me, seeming as eager as I. I grabbed my throbbing rod in hand, and by feel, rubbed the head up and down her moistness, adding pressure bit by bit, until I felt it settle in at the mouth of her pussy. She gave a small gasp, as the head slid in just a bit, not quite in her yet, but knowing that I was one small push from being inside. "Be gentle," she said, and I could see a hint of nervousness and fear in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her softly, and while our lips touched, I pushed, sinking into her. At least for a bit. About halfway in I hit a barrier. I was confused at first. I pulled back and pushed again, a little harder, thinking I was sticking, and she grunted a little as if in pain. It finally sunk in. I had been with plenty of women, and several who had claimed to be virgins, but none with their cherry intact. I wasn't sure what to do. I probed again, and this time elicited a small 'ow'. What was I to do? I lay on top of her, my cock buried four inches deep in the girls of my dreams, and I was at a complete loss. Sheri shifted a bit under me, wrapped her legs around mine, and pulled me close. She whispered into my ear. "Take me." It was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. Nervously I pulled back until I was just at the opening and I drove down hard, feeling just a pinch before my pelvis was grinding into hers. I was completely inside her. I got up on my elbows and looked down at her. I could see a single wet trail that glistened from the side of her eye to her ear. "Are you ok?" I asked her, holding myself still, deep inside of her. "Wonderful," she said softly, tilting her chin up slightly for a kiss. I accepted the offer, and kissed her gently, while I experimented with moving my cock within her incredibly tight sheath. I felt I was only moments from coming, but I couldn't resist moving my hips just a bit, exploring the feeling of being inside her. I leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I always wanted you. You knew it. I knew it. But I was afraid. I was afraid of the ribbing from your brother. Afraid of being exposed for knowing nothing about what to do with a girl. Afraid of ruining our friendship. Afraid of striking out, and you telling all the other girls, and my being the laughingstock. Afraid of so many stupid things. I was an idiot." "You weren't afraid of Kathryn," she answered softly. "She initiated it all. She pushed forward, asking to monopolize me, holding my hand. I probably never would have made the move. If I could change one thing, it would be that skating party. I should have saved that last moonlight skate for you, and asked you out. I should have told Kathryn that you were the one girl I was interested in. Who knows how things might have worked out? Plus, it wasn't as big a deal. If things didn't work out, oh well. But if I ruined things with you, it would have killed all my dreams." She was hot beneath me, her skin almost burning to my touch, I was finally moving inside of her, but I quickly had to stop, again on the verge of coming, and embarrassed at my short trigger. "Make love to me Steve," she said breathlessly. I gave a few more strokes and had to stop again. "Don't stop," she pleaded. "I'm sorry, I'm so excited I'm on the verge of coming now. If I move I won't be able to stop," I finally confessed. "Do it. Pump me, take me, come deep inside me," she answered. Those words were too much, and with a gasp I drove my cock in hard, and exploded inside her. I pulled back and slammed into her a dozen times or so, making the bed creak alarmingly as I emptied myself inside her virgin moistness. As my heart hammer away in my chest, and my breathing gasped, she gave me a small joyous laugh. "Wow, I guess you were close!" Then she gave a big hug before she pushed me off of her. She climbed over me, her hand pressed between her legs and scrambled into the bathroom, waddling inelegantly but still incredibly arousing to me. I heard her tinkle, and then return to the bed with a facecloth with which she wiped my semi-hard cock clean. Then she climbed into bed, her head on my shoulder and talked. She recounted almost ever time that we'd been together alone, all the adventures we'd had, the summer we'd learned to play tennis together, and what she'd thought might happen. We laughed a little at my ineptness and her caution as well. Then I felt her hand creep down between my legs. "Do you think we could try that again?" she asked me hesitantly. "I'm dying to, but I was afraid I might have hurt you." I laughed my foolish insecure laugh. "So hurt me," she teased, giving a tug on my cock. This time I held out a little better. I climbed between her legs again, and made love to her, still gently, still nervous. But before long I was feeling that familiar rhythm of need, and my strokes became longer and more insistent. I had to have her. I had to take her. I had to fill her deeply, completely. I sat up in the bed, discarding the covers, and raised her legs, pushing them back, and screwing her powerfully, shaking her body, crashing into her with a burning need. She was still wearing her nightie, but it had ridden up above her belly button, just a couple of inches below her breasts. I stopped my motion and whispered to her, "Rise up on your elbows." She looked at me oddly but did, raising her head a few inches off the pillow. I leaned over and lifted her nightie up above her breast, allowing me to see the objects of my desire and fantasies. "God, I've pictured those in my mind for four years, and yet never came close to imagining how perfect and beautiful they are." I said, more to myself than to her. I resumed my fucking, for that was what I was doing now, fucking her. Fucking her hard. She had her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and now she was holding her nightie in her hands, almost to her chin, allowing me an uninterrupted view of her oh-so-perfect tits. The visuals were all too much and pushed me over the edge once again. The beautiful face, the long hair arrayed across the pillow, the full breasts, bouncing a counter-beat to my pounding, her flat stomach, hollowed, and the light fur of her hair parted to allow my pole to penetrate her again and again. With a moan I came for her again, collapsing beside her, sated, and in complete serenity and joy. "I guess you really do like me," she laughed, cuddling up to my side. Then she was asking me about my afternoon meeting with Kathryn. "What did she tell you?" I asked, a little nervous. "No, you tell me what happened. I don't trust her," she insisted. I told her the whole story, including the ending. In full short-but-sweet detail. "I knew it!" She laughed. "She said you tried to come on to her, and made her grab you there, but she turned you down." "If that's how she wants to tell it that's fine by me. I owe her one; let her have it however she wants." I said "When you went to the movies, what really happened there?" she asked, with her one-track mind. I wasn't sure what her preoccupation was but I finally told her the whole scene, everything I'd done, every liberty I'd taken. At the end I waited in judgment. "She's such a liar. She said you tried to reach inside her pants but she stopped you." "Hardly, I could smell her on my fingers for day afterwards." I laughed. Sheri was lost in thought pressed up against me. My hands were idling rubbing her back, the material of her nightie soft and silky against my fingertips. "I guess there's only one thing she's done with you that we haven't done," Sheri started, and then she slid under the covers and a moment later I felt the warm wetness of her mouth enveloping me. I could see the covers moving as she used her mouth to pleasure me, taking only a few moments to make me hard, and then sucking me like there was no tomorrow. Which, in a way I guess there wasn't. I wanted to see her, so I pulled the covers back and looked down at her. She continued a few more strokes, then shifted and faced me a little more, finally lifting her eyes to watch me, watching her, suck my cock. A few more deep strokes and she pulled off with a smile. "I can see that's one thing you like," she said with a grin. "Like is an understatement." I laughed. She gave me a couple more sucks, and then she straddled me, and rose up to take me inside of her again. I wanted her so bad I could almost scream. She got me positioned right, and then slowly lowered herself the full length of my staff with one long, smooth stroke. Then, settled on my hips, my turgid meat buried in her achingly tight recess, she lifted the bottom of her nightie and pulled it up and over her head. I'd been to several strip shows before that, but never in my life had I seen anything so beautiful or so erotic. I could feel my pulse in my cock, throbbing inside her. She opened her eyes wide, and looked down between her legs. "Wow, I could feel that. At least one part of you really likes to see the girls," she laughed, holding her breasts cupped in her hands, and jiggling them for me. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I told her. "Right, and now I guess you're going to tell me you love me, just like Kathryn." She said it with a hint of bitterness I didn't understand. "The difference is back then it was the hormones of a 16 year old talking. You on the other hand, I've loved for three years. And you know it." I said, and only as I spoke the words did I realize to my very soul, just how true it was. Sheri didn't answer. She leaned forward and rocked back and forth on my hard cock, enjoying the feeling of controlling the penetration, the pace, the timing. She paced herself to my breathing and excitement. When I started to get really excited she'd slow down and hold me, letting me ease back from the edge. When I was strong and ready, she'd ride me hard. She let my hands explore her as she did the work, and I touched her everywhere I could reach, just wallowing in the sensations. I pulled her down within reach, and tasted her nipples, playing with those perfect globes. The feel of her breasts, that impossible soft pale skin under my lips, making way to the crinkled, tougher skin, peaking to a little nub seemingly designed for me to tease and taste. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of sensual, erotic play, she laid down on me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her mouth on my neck, while she slowly rocked her hips, fucking herself gently on my rod. "Come for me Steve," she said, almost as a command. I reached down and took her full, soft ass cheeks in my hands, grasping them tight, and I held her up a bit off of me, so I could us my hips to drive in and out of her channel more completely. I was able to get a good long stroke established, and I could feel the cool air brushing against my wet shaft each time I pulled outward. We had made love for what seemed ages before she issued that first command for me to come. Now she issued another one. "Tell me again." I couldn't hold back any longer, and didn't want to. I was fucking the prettiest girl I'd ever known; The first girl that I had really badly wanted; The sweet little virgin that I had fantasized about for so long; Whose pretty face had been the image I'd been picturing as I filled enough old gym socks with cum to fill a stadium. "I love you, Sheri. I've loved you as long as I've known you." And with that I pulled her down hard on my cock, coming inside my dream girl again, and absorbing the feeling, knowing I was leaving within hours, not knowing when I'd see her again. "I love you, Steve," she said, I could feel her tears rolling down the side of my face. I looked up to see the sky lightening with the coming dawn, and thought to myself, "That's another one you've got up on Kathryn." I disentangled myself from her limbs and kissed her. "I have to go. Tommy's going to be looking for me any minute." Somehow we had spent the entire night reminiscing, sharing and making love. It was so difficult, but I tore myself from her arms, tucked her in bed, and kissed her goodnight. "Get a couple of hours of sleep; I'll be able to sleep on the bus." I told her. She was still wearing the cross I'd given her. She held it now. "Thanks for the Christmas present." She said with a small sad smile. I kissed her again, and retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave. Back in my room, I dressed, and found a present waiting for me on my suitcase. A 8 by 10 picture of Sheri, as beautiful as I'd ever seen her, with a small inscription on the back. "Merry Christmas. Don't forget about me. Love, Sheri" I had just finished putting it away when Tommy knocked on my door, dragging me out to breakfast, and then off to the bus. The rest of that trip was uneventful; I made it home OK, picked up some presents in Panama, saw some old friends, and made it back to college in one piece. But I'll always recall that first Christmas away from home, and the greatest Christmas present I ever received. Not my first erector set, or the 114 piece Lincoln Log tube. Not my first really Cool bicycle, a purple spider bike with banana seat, big handle bars and a three speed shifter on the bar. Not my first electric guitar, a Fender, and amp, which I think my parents had some second thoughts about. No, Sheri's was the nicest gift I ever received, and probably ever will receive, for Christmas. "Thanks" just doesn't seem to say enough. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

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Lost At Christmas: Part 1 His First Christmas away from home, & His best gift ever. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. After my first semester in College, I was eager to go home for the holidays. I was going to school in Rochester, New York, and anybody who'd experienced the lake-effect winters on the Great Lakes would understand my desire to get to somewhere warmer. For me, that somewhere warmer was a long ways away. As a military brat, home was often a moving target, and that winter it was Santiago, Chile, where my father was stationed and where I'd graduated high-school. It was summer in Santiago, and I was looking forward to a pool-party with my old school mates for the Holidays. We didn't have a lot of money, but I was allowed to travel space available on a military flight as a Navy ROTC student. I had to get down to Charleston, South Carolina, and catch an international C1 41 flight that made a loop through Latin America. After finagling a ride to Virginia followed by a very long bus trip down the coast, I finally made it to Charleston AFB. ROTC travel orders in hand, I checked in at the desk, and verified I was on the standby list for the flight leaving on the 23rd. I wouldn't get home until Christmas Day, but better late than never. With pockets nearly empty, a hotel room was out of the question so I slept in the terminal and snacked on the cheapest eats I could get away with. There was a festive mood in the terminal, so many people rushing to get home for the holidays, and I was getting caught up in the feeling, eagerly looking forward to that very long plane ride, first to Panama, then Lima, and finally Santiago. After what seemed an interminable wait, we were an hour away from boarding when I got bumped off the flight by a group of Marines headed to Panama on Active Duty travel orders. I was devastated. The next flight left early the morning of the 26th. At least that one was a huge plane, and nearly empty so I was virtually guaranteed to get aboard, but what was I going to do for Christmas? Looking up at the outgoing flight schedules, I saw a flight listed for Tyndall AFB, Panama City, Florida. "When is the flight to Tyndall headed out?" I asked the airman behind the desk. "In an hour-and-a-half, and it's all but empty. You want on?" He asked, offering some recompense for my last minute bump. I'd lived in Panama City during 9th and 10th grade, and still had some close friends there, many I still kept in touch with. Maybe I could find someone to spend Christmas with there. It had to be better than sleeping in the terminal for 2 more days. "Please," I told him, "but hold my space for Santiago. I'll be back for that flight." I recalled there being a pretty big Greyhound station in Panama City, so I called Greyhound and checked on a bus being able to get me back in time for the flight. They had one, a 7:30 am bus on Christmas morning would get me back before midnight on Christmas. I could easily make the flight the next morning, even if it were delay a few hours. I bought a ticket, using the emergency Am Ex card my parents had given me when I headed off to college. I'd explain the $67.00 to my parents. I called my family in Santiago with the news. It had to be short call because of the expense, so I let them know I had been bumped but would be there on the 28th. I told them I was headed to Panama City, and would be taking a bus back in plenty of time for my flight. My mother cried, and my father told me to go ahead and use the credit card, but to try to keep the expenses reasonable. By the time I hung up I was pretty depressed, but at least I had a plan. Before I could try to contact anyone in Panama City, an announcement was made and suddenly I was on my way to Florida for Christmas, with no place lined up to stay, and practically broke. I was feeling a bit melancholy, but was determined to make the best of it. So there I was, at Tyndall Air Force Base, at 11:20 pm on December 23rd. I was debating who to try first. I had several close friends nearby and I expected they'd all be home for Christmas. After a short internal debate, I had narrowed it down to two. I had always gotten along well with their entire families, and I was still in pretty regular contact with both of them. Mike lived the nearest to me in the old days. He came from a big family, with 6 siblings, including Peggy, who'd been one of my first real deep infatuations. When I had been in 9th grade she'd been a senior, and was pretty and sophisticated. My yearning for her was unrequited, but I relished the idea of seeing her again after four years. She was a college senior, and would probably be home. I knew they'd welcome me, but I was concerned it would be an inconvenience. They did not have a large house, and it was bound to be crowded, particularly with three college kids home for the holiday. On top of that who knew if they had anyone else in tow? Tommy on the other hand came from a relatively well-off family who always lived well within their means. He had an older brother, who was working in Japan and unlikely to be home, a sister, Sheri, just a year behind us in school, and two much younger siblings, who I guessed would be around 9 and 10 by now. They had a spacious house, each kid had their own room, and I wouldn't be putting anybody out if I stayed there. I'd always had a crush on Sheri, but although I'd dated her best friend, I'd never gone out with her. Getting a chance to see her again would be an extra bonus. Feeling nervous and awkward, I dialed Tommy's number from memory, and luckily got him on the first call. If I'd gotten somebody else, I would have really felt uncomfortable. Tommy's answer was unmistakable. He had a funny way of saying hello when he answered the phone, and the sound of his voice took me straight back down memory lane. "Hee-ello," he answered. "Tommy! Guess who?" I asked. I guess my voice must have been similarly recognizable, since he didn't hesitate a second. "Steve-o! What are you up to? Where're you at?" He answered eagerly. It put a smile on my face. Nice to hear a happy, upbeat voice that seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. "Funny you should ask. It's a long story, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm at Tyndall, and stuck here until Christmas Day." I told him. "What happened to Chile, and Rochester?" He asked. "I was on my way home to Chile, when I lost my seat on the plane in Charleston. I couldn't get out again until the 26th, so when I saw an empty plane headed this way, I just hopped on and hoped for the best." I explained. "That's Great!" He almost shouted. "Not great that you couldn't get home, but great that you're here. You want to stay with us? You can have Greg's room, he won't be here, and I'm sure Sheri and Mom would love to see you. The place is kind of 'down' with Greg canceling his trip home at the last minute. Having you here should cheer things up a bit." He did sound enthused, and I couldn't help grinning in reply. "Don't you think you should check?" I laughed. A scream in my ear was the answer, as I heard half of a shouted conversation. "Mom! Guess Who's In Town." "No, Not Greg." "No, Go Ahead Guess." "Guess Again." "Ok, Ok - Steve." "Yeah, Steve Pelland. He's Stuck Here In Town 'Til Christmas Day." "Of Course I Told Him He Should Come Here, I'll Go Get Him." "I Will." "Yes Mom; Yes; I Won't; I Will." I was holding the phone a little away from my head, and almost missed it when he came back on. "Where should I pick you up?" He asked. "The Main Terminal, you know where that is right?" I answered. "Sure - be there in about 30 minutes. Man, this is Great!" I hung up with a big smile on my face, feeling 100% better than I had just 10 minutes earlier. I stood outside waiting for him, and about 20 minutes later the strings of Christmas lights shut off one at a time, as the place closed up for the night. It was dark and quiet, and I started to get nervous again, wondering if this had been such a good idea. I was 500 miles from my flight home and completely at the mercy of old friends. But as far as friends go, I couldn't do much better than mine, and figured at the least I wouldn't be sleeping in a lonely terminal in Charleston for two days, slowly eating my way through my meager funds. When Bob pulled up around midnight, I could see he'd gotten rid of the VW Bug he'd inherited from his mother upon turning 16, and was now driving his brother's old Two-tone Cougar. We spent a minute saying hi, and loading my gear into the trunk, and then we headed back into town, catching each other up on history. When I had first moved to Santiago, I used to write about once every couple of months, as well as call a couple of times a year. In the beginning I'd written Sheri a lot as well. She was one of the most prolific writers among my old friends, and would typically write twice to me for every one I wrote to her. Over the years, that had degenerated into holiday cards and a surprise call maybe once a year. I knew he was attending Florida State, and that Greg had graduated from Georgetown, and had moved to Japan on business. That was about it. Tommy told me all about the old gang, who was in town, who was going to what schools, what people had been up to. I told him a lot more detail about what I'd been up to. "So," he asked, "Got a girl?" "Not now. Thought I had one after the ROTC Christmas ball, but that seems to have been my mistake." I admitted. "Hard to believe. You always had someone. Every letter, every phone-call, just seems like they didn't stay the same all that long." He teased. "I don't know. I had several relationships last pretty long. Two were more than 6 months long." I argued. "Oh! Six Months!" He laughed. "How about you then," I asked in defense. "Still Erin. Almost two years now." He asked. "Shit. What does she see in you? She could do so much better." I teased. "Oh really? Like how?" "Like me!" I laughed. "Right, like that would ever happen! Don't even think about it, or you'll be sleeping in the street." He was laughing as well. "Not if I called Erin I wouldn't," I shot back. I thought it was a great comeback, but it earned me a sock in the arm. We pulled up to his house, which still looked exactly the same, and things were pretty quiet. They used the same window lights, same roof lights, same bush trimmings year after year. It was just as I remembered. Who says you can't go back? "Mom's got to work tomorrow, so I'm sure she's in bed, and you know Dave crashes early, so we better keep it down. We've got lots to do tomorrow anyway." We entered quietly and put my bag in Greg's old room. Tommy stayed and chatted for a few minutes then bid me good night, telling me to sleep in as long as I wanted, as long as it wasn't past 9:00 am, and left me to get settled. Past 9:00? Now I remembered, they'd always been an early-bird household. For me 9:00 am Was the crack of dawn. Tommy and I had breakfast at about 9:30. He was already chiding me for sleeping in and missing the whole family. We had the house to ourselves. He'd been on the phone arranging our day, and once we'd finished the pancakes, we were off to see Mike and his family. Entering Mike's house was the same as it had ever been, but more-so. People everywhere, noise, laughter, roughhousing, it was all taken in stride by Mrs. Frey. We spent a few hours visiting, and getting fed again before we could leave. Mike's older sister Peggy still looked cute to me, but not the amazing creature my memory had somehow stored away. I had to tease her about the Christmas gift she'd given me three years earlier. She'd bought me a Richard Pryor tape, thinking it was Bill Cosby. When I played it for her in my car, she exploded, calling me names and accusing me of vile intent. At the time I had felt bad, confused, angry and a host of other feelings, now thankfully we could laugh at it. When I'd been 16 I'd been somewhat in awe of her, now things were comfortable. Mike's older brother was home as well, with his live-in girlfriend who seemed awfully ill-at-ease, and must have been at least 5 years older than Dan, maybe more. That was a story I'd have to hear more about. The biggest surprise was Alice. She'd been a few years younger than us. I wasn't sure if she was 16 or 17 now, but she was a bombshell. And she was coming on to me like gangbusters. I was really nervous, with her acting all touchy-feely with her mother and Peggy there. I was suddenly glad I had chosen to stay over with Tommy. With a pretty, stacked girl that seemed so infatuated with me around, I'm afraid I might have gotten into a whole lot more trouble than I needed. When we left there Mike joined us, and it was off to see Jack and Russ. They were a year apart in age. Russ had been in our class, and we'd been friendly with him, but Jack, although a year younger was our buddy. We played on the basketball team together, and when Tommy and I formed our first band, Jack was our bassist. At the Chambers house, we once again reminisced, and had to relive our first 'gig'. We had decided to play in the school talent show. With Tommy on piano and Jack on bass, I played guitar. We had a fourth guy on drums we'd all lost contact with. We had played Elton John, Deep Purple, The Eagles, and The Beatles. We had opened with the opening riff of "Smoke on the Water", and had been a hit. We were pretty lousy, but the audience was our friends, our parents and the parents of our friends, and at the end the parents even took up a collection for us. Pretty heady stuff. We'd called ourselves Bronze Myth, and had already designed our first three album covers before we had our first birthday party gig. Jack had been tall then, and had not stopped growing; he was now 6'7" and was attending University of Florida, playing basketball. He reminded me of the time when we went on our first dates together. I had gone with Kathryn Best, easily the most lusted after girl in the whole school, who was in Jack's class a year behind me. Jack, on the other hand, had gone out with our "Valentine's Day Queen", Anne, who was in my class and almost two full years older than Jack. He was always precocious. There had been a third couple with us, Dennis and Suzanne, and Jack broke the news that Suzanne had gotten knocked up, just before I left to go overseas, and she and Dennis had gotten married. There was a huge scandal, but they stuck together, and had the baby. They lived with Suzanne's parents. Dennis was doing alright, working for Suzanne's father. While we were visiting, several friends dropped in, including the aforementioned Kathryn who lived one street over. Kathryn, the stunning brunette who had the body of a 20 year old when she was 15, and had a beautiful face with features that just slayed me. Kathryn, the very first girl I had gotten to Third Base with. She was as pretty as I remembered, and I found out she was going to be attending Mt. Holyoke the following year, which was an odd coincidence since my girlfriend from High School was a sophomore there. Going out with Kathryn, a year younger than me had been a total fiasco. We'd sat together on an out-of-town bus trip and ranked high enough in the pecking order that we got the right hand seat second from the back. These trips were our biggest dates back then. Ours was a small parochial school, and on the bus trips, the athletes, cheerleaders and student fans all rode the same bug. The 30-90 minute trips were like pep rallies on the way out, and like the back of movie theatres on the way back. There were frequent "hand-checks" and the lights would come one as our coaches would walk the aisle, but it seemed like after our wins, the checks would be a little less frequent. Our win at Pensacola was my first real 'make-out' session, as we cuddled and kissed the whole trip home. I even got a chance to play with her breast through her sweater. Less than a week later I asked her to the movies, and we sat in the back with the two other couples, probably both scared spitless and nervous as goldfish in a blender. We'd started necking, which got more and more intense, and my hands boldly went where no hands had gone before. An hour into the movie I was almost out of control, and feverish with desire, and it seemed she was willing to let me do whatever I wanted. If I'd had a little more confidence, or a little more knowledge, who knows what might have happened? As it is, I went pretty far, probably too far, and I was scared to death afterwards. She was the first girl whose flesh I'd touched underneath her clothing. I didn't call her for several days, and even avoided her at school, not knowing what to say. In short I was a total jerk. Everyone thought we should be together, she was the pretty captain of the cheerleaders, with the big boobs, and I was the Big Jock, playing all the sports, while at the same time excelling in school. She was voted "Most Popular." I was "Most Likely to Succeed." However, in this case it turned out she was "Most Slighted", and I was definitely "Most Inept." After waiting several days, amazingly patient in retrospect, she had tasked her best friend Sheri, Tommy's sister, with letting me know that she thought we shouldn't go out. Next thing you know, she was going out with some geeky looking kid, and she dated him for the rest of the school year. I'd changed schools at the end of that year, and had seen her only infrequently the following year, before moving to Santiago. Outside in the backyard, Kathryn and I walked off together and finally had a few minutes alone. "You know Kat, I don't think I ever apologized for being such an idiot, after our first date. I really am sorry." She was quiet for a while. She had a sad little look. "You know, I waited by that phone night after night, crying myself to sleep. I saw you dodging me at school and it broke my heart." "I was young and stupid. I'd never done Anything with a girl before, and could hardly even believe I was with the hottest girl in school. After all the stuff I did, God, I was so embarrassed that I'd overstepped the boundaries, and I had no idea what to say." She sat down underneath the big tree in the backyard and I sat beside her on the circular bench around it. "You could have said something to Jack maybe, or Tommy, and let them tell me. At least let me know that you liked me, or had fun. Something." She looked on the verge of tears, even 3 years later, and I felt even worse. "I know. I kept kicking myself over it. I was so angry with myself and jealous when you went out with Ricky." I admitted. "He was nice to me when I needed it." "But it seemed such an odd fit. He was a nobody; the only thing he ever did noteworthy was date you." I told her. "He lived two houses down. We'd grown up together, and when my heart was broken he picked up the pieces. He could tell something was wrong, and really made me feel a lot better." She confessed. That brought on a short period of silence. It did let me think better of Ricky, who wasn't just lucky or an opportunist. "You know, that was one of the most memorable moments in my life. Touching a girl like that for the first time. I had no idea what I should do, or what I could do, but I kept looking down the row at Dennis and Suzanne, and figured I should be able to do that too. I was in heaven; you were so amazing to be with." I told her, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. Her palm was moist. "You're telling me? You were the big 9th grader with the learner's permit and motorcycle. Big Man on Campus. The guy every girl wanted. And you wanted me. I had no idea what we should or shouldn't do on a date. I was hoping you knew." We laughed at that, remembering the intensity of those feelings. "Given a chance to do it over, I'd have camped out on your doorstep and professed my undying, eternal love the moment you walked out the door." I told her, half serious. "As I recall, you professed your love for me that evening, just before opening the top of my pants." She said with a wicked grin. I'm sure I blushed mightily. "I can't really ask forgiveness, but I really am sorry. Sorry now and sorry then. I fantasized about you for years afterwards, thinking of what could have happened if I hadn't been such a jerk. You have no idea how many of my fantasies you starred in back then." "If only you'd have let me know. Ricky was my first. It could have been you. Given half a chance, it would have been you." She had moved close and was speaking softly. "And this is my punishment. Knowing how bad I fucked up. Seeing you here, as beautiful as in my dreams, and knowing I've screwed up any chance of being with you." I placed my hand behind her head, stroking her hair. "I wouldn't say you'd screwed up Any chance, but you certainly blew that one." We were looking deeply in each other's eyes, recalling strong, painful feelings. I wanted her now, as I'd wanted her then, with a deep burning need, and I leaned forward those last two inches, and captured her lips with mine. She slid forward and melted against me, kissing me with every emotion boiling to the surface. She took my hand and placed it on her incredible chest, and I squeezed her breast, my thumb reliving that first caress of her nipple from so many years earlier. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, and then broke apart. Her eyes glistened. "I've got a boyfriend." She confessed. I nodded understanding. "If I didn't?" I reached forward pressing my index finger to her lips. "I know. I missed my chance. It's my loss." We just sat side by side a minute, in silence. "You know," she said softly, "what you did to me that night, that was part of the problem." "I know. I'm sorry if I stepped over the line." I said, even now embarrassed at the liberties I'd taken. "No, not anything wrong. What you did to me, how you made me feel. You made me cream my jeans more than once that night. It was the first time I'd ever come. I'd heard about it, but it was almost unreal. Your fingers just drove me wild. It was over a year before another guy was able to do the same." She put her hand between her legs, seemingly remembering that first night. "That makes two of us. I don't know if you knew, but I came in my pants too, and you never even touched me there. By the time I got home I was a terrible sticky mess. I snuck out and threw that underwear away before my mother could find them and ask uncomfortable questions." I told her, laughing. She gave me an odd little look, and then slid around the tree, placing its 3 foot wide trunk between us and the house. She reached out for me, and of course I followed. "Could I, I mean would you mind?" She seemed lost for words. "What? Just ask. I certainly owe you one." I told her. She didn't ask, she just started unbuckling my belt. "I always wondered, and never really had a chance to find out." With the belt open she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. "I mean, that night, you got to find out pretty much ALL about me, but I didn't; " I lifted my hips and let her pull my pants down a short ways, and then she reached up and pulled my underwear down exposing my fully erect monument to her sexiness. "I knew it, you bastard. Look at that." I didn't have to look. I knew it pretty well. And it was certainly standing tall and making me proud. She took me in hand and stroked me up and down, which after all the discussion and reminiscing was almost enough to get me off. "I just knew it. This should have been my first." She slowly stroked me up and down, and then she leaned over and took me in her mouth for just a second, sucking me deep and then releasing me. That was it. It was too much for me, and I stood up and shot my wad a good two feet out from where we were sitting. She giggled, as she helped me through my release, then pulled my underwear up back over my still dripping cock, and wiped her hand on the front of my briefs, before helping me pull my jeans back up. "If I wasn't tied up, I'd have you paying reparations," she told me as we both stood, and she slapped my hands away from my belt and finished straightening me out herself. "Let's consider it a delayed payoff. If things don't work out for you, maybe we can try it again. Rochester isn't That far from Amherst." Little did I know what the future held in store for us, but that's a different story. We walked back to the house hand-in-hand, laughing at the folly of youth, from the wizened experience of our 18 and 19 years. She had to leave shortly after, as did we, and I kissed her goodbye at the door. Once the door was closed I heard an exclamation from behind me. I turned to Tommy who said, "Now I've seen everything." "Amen," said Jack. "What?" I asked. "After how you treated her after our first date, I was certain you were on her shit-list for life." Jack explained. "Absolutely." Tommy chimed in. "Sheri said that Kathryn fantasized about doing mean and nasty things to you for years. I mean, hell, you did use her pretty bad." "I was a dope. I did some things I'd never done before, and was so embarrassed I didn't know how to even face her. So I screwed up and avoided her. I just made my apologies and we worked things out. I think she understands that I didn't try to be mean; I was just young and stupid. I didn't know what I was doing, and regretted it for years." I told them. "Geez. I always wondered how you could pass on that, when she was so available to you. You really did fuck up, didn't you?" Tommy pointed out. "Yep, not the first time, and I'm certain not the last. But we've buried the hatchet it seems." I answered "I'm just astounded that hatchet isn't in your back." Jack added. We left just a short while after that. We had one last visit to make. Teri Branson was passing through town, and wanted to see us if she could. She was just there for the day, and none of us wanted to miss out on that chance. The summer before 10th grade, I'd practically lived at Teri's. It was football time, and we were doing twice-a-days. We'd have morning practice, then a break so we wouldn't be out all day in the noon-time Florida summer sun. After the break it was afternoon practice. Teri was at our school and I never really knew her until that summer. She lived only a block from Mike, and we had run into her one day out washing the family car. We struck up a conversation, and the rest was history. I spent every football break at her house that summer. Mike didn't play football, but I'd pick him up on the way over there, and we'd hang out. She had a pool table, and a private rec-room with a stand-up arcade game. Her mother would always bring us snacks and drinks. Teri had not been popular, and was new to the school as well. But in a period of just a few months she went from a boyish figured tom-boy, to a devastatingly beautiful teen. Her breasts seemed to almost explode outwards, and once we'd met her mom, we knew where she got it from. She lost some weight, traded glasses for contacts, grew tits, lost the braces, and suddenly this beauty was in our midst, and nobody even knew about her but us. She was our secret. Tommy was going to a different high-school from me and Mike, but we still hung together most of the summer, and we had to let him in on our secret. The closest we'd come to having anything happen was a bizarre game of spin-the-bottle underneath the pool table. Mike, Tommy, me and Teri. Just an excuse for us to take turns kissing her. Her father was being transferred again at the end of the summer. I told her I was going to have a birthday party, and that we were going to play spin-the-bottle, I had hoped she'd be there, but now she was leaving. We were all upset. Tommy suggested we play now, since she couldn't make it then, and we did. It was strange but wonderful. Two weeks later she was gone. We met Teri at the mall, our planned rendezvous. We couldn't miss her; she was the center of a lot of attention. And still gorgeous. We ran up to her and had hugs all around. "I can only stay about 20 minutes," she told us with a pout. "Damn," was all I could say. So the three of us toured the mall, observing all the changes. It had been brand new the year we had been together. We grabbed some drinks, and wandered back outside, our time almost up, and barely even caught up. "Teri, I have a confession." I told her. "I know we acted pretty much like friends, but I was crazy about you. That summer I went home every evening and dreamed of you." "Hell, we all did." Tommy admitted. "We were such idiots," she said. She reached up to my collar and pulled me down for a kiss. Teri stood maybe 5 foot 1, so I had at least a foot on her in height. Bent over I let her kiss me, and I returned it eagerly. Finally she released me. "I was so confused. One day I'd like you, and then the next day you," she said nodding around the group, "and then you. I kept wondering who was going to be my first real boyfriend. I just knew it was going to be one of you. And then it was all over." She looked up at me. "I Still dream about you sometimes." All we could do was laugh it off, and say we'd get together sometime. She was living in Phoenix now, finishing high school, and it looked like she'd be going to Stanford. It was going to be hard to ever make that commute work out, not that she didn't seem like it would be worth the effort. Then her parents drove up. We said hi to her mom (who had been a secret fantasy of mine back then) and then with a last set of hugs it was goodbye to Teri. It was getting late so we dropped Mike back off at his house, driving mostly in quiet. I imagine we were all lost in thought over the quirks of fate and what might have been. For me, it was thoughts of Kathryn and Teri, two incredible opportunities that any teen would kill for, and I'd let them slip through my fingers. We dropped Mike off, but didn't go inside. As it was we were running late, and knew that if we went in, it would be a while before we got out of there. From Mike's it was a 5 minute drive back to Tommy's, but we drove past Teri's old house, just for nostalgia's sake. At Tommy's we were running late. Dinner was going to be at 6:00 pm, and somehow we'd burned the whole day. It was 5:45 before we even walked in the door, and we both wanted to clean up before dinner. The kid's rooms were served by two separate bathrooms, one at the end of the hall, and one off of Greg's room. So I stripped down to my shorts, and went to take my shower. I hadn't expected the bathroom to be full. Sheri was in their, applying the last of her makeup. Fortunately (or unfortunately) she was dressed. When I walked in, she gave a squeal, and came over and gave me a big hug. "I can't believe you're here! You're looking good." She said, stepping back and giving me the once over. "Wow, Sheri, you look great!" was all I could say. She had always been pretty. But the difference between a 15 year old Sheri and this one was night and day. The more mature Sheri was a beautiful young woman. "Thanks," she said, "I'll be out of here in a second, and you can have the place to yourself. I'm dying to talk to you." "I'll be here all night." I joked, stepping back into the room I was using, before my underwear had to undergo any more strain. I sat on the bed waiting, and after just a minute or so she poked her head in and said "It's all yours." She left the door open and walked out the other side of the bathroom. So that was one change at least that I hadn't noticed. Back in the day, this was Greg's bathroom. But since then someone had taken out the linen closet, and the old closet door now opened into Sheri's room. In retrospect it should have been obvious. With Greg away, the bathroom had a lot of stuff in it, although very neat. If I'd opened a cabinet or drawer, I would have seen all the makeup and girl's things. I was using Sheri's bathroom. I rapidly cleaned up and dressed. I was in a bit of a hurry, wanting to still wrap a couple of small presents for my hosts. I had bought several music tapes for my sister as a Christmas present, and decided to gift Tommy with one of them. I also had a photo in a frame for my mom, and decided to make the frame a family gift. It was simple, hand-made by yours truly from apple-wood. After borrowing some paper, tape, and scissors, I was ready to join everyone else just a few minutes later. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

Lost At Christmas: Part 1 His First Christmas away from home, & His best gift ever. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. After my first semester in College, I was eager to go home for the holidays. I was going to school in Rochester, New York, and anybody who'd experienced the lake-effect winters on the Great Lakes would understand my desire to get to somewhere warmer. For me, that somewhere warmer was a long ways away. As a military brat, home was often a moving target, and that winter it was Santiago, Chile, where my father was stationed and where I'd graduated high-school. It was summer in Santiago, and I was looking forward to a pool-party with my old school mates for the Holidays. We didn't have a lot of money, but I was allowed to travel space available on a military flight as a Navy ROTC student. I had to get down to Charleston, South Carolina, and catch an international C1 41 flight that made a loop through Latin America. After finagling a ride to Virginia followed by a very long bus trip down the coast, I finally made it to Charleston AFB. ROTC travel orders in hand, I checked in at the desk, and verified I was on the standby list for the flight leaving on the 23rd. I wouldn't get home until Christmas Day, but better late than never. With pockets nearly empty, a hotel room was out of the question so I slept in the terminal and snacked on the cheapest eats I could get away with. There was a festive mood in the terminal, so many people rushing to get home for the holidays, and I was getting caught up in the feeling, eagerly looking forward to that very long plane ride, first to Panama, then Lima, and finally Santiago. After what seemed an interminable wait, we were an hour away from boarding when I got bumped off the flight by a group of Marines headed to Panama on Active Duty travel orders. I was devastated. The next flight left early the morning of the 26th. At least that one was a huge plane, and nearly empty so I was virtually guaranteed to get aboard, but what was I going to do for Christmas? Looking up at the outgoing flight schedules, I saw a flight listed for Tyndall AFB, Panama City, Florida. "When is the flight to Tyndall headed out?" I asked the airman behind the desk. "In an hour-and-a-half, and it's all but empty. You want on?" He asked, offering some recompense for my last minute bump. I'd lived in Panama City during 9th and 10th grade, and still had some close friends there, many I still kept in touch with. Maybe I could find someone to spend Christmas with there. It had to be better than sleeping in the terminal for 2 more days. "Please," I told him, "but hold my space for Santiago. I'll be back for that flight." I recalled there being a pretty big Greyhound station in Panama City, so I called Greyhound and checked on a bus being able to get me back in time for the flight. They had one, a 7:30 am bus on Christmas morning would get me back before midnight on Christmas. I could easily make the flight the next morning, even if it were delay a few hours. I bought a ticket, using the emergency Am Ex card my parents had given me when I headed off to college. I'd explain the $67.00 to my parents. I called my family in Santiago with the news. It had to be short call because of the expense, so I let them know I had been bumped but would be there on the 28th. I told them I was headed to Panama City, and would be taking a bus back in plenty of time for my flight. My mother cried, and my father told me to go ahead and use the credit card, but to try to keep the expenses reasonable. By the time I hung up I was pretty depressed, but at least I had a plan. Before I could try to contact anyone in Panama City, an announcement was made and suddenly I was on my way to Florida for Christmas, with no place lined up to stay, and practically broke. I was feeling a bit melancholy, but was determined to make the best of it. So there I was, at Tyndall Air Force Base, at 11:20 pm on December 23rd. I was debating who to try first. I had several close friends nearby and I expected they'd all be home for Christmas. After a short internal debate, I had narrowed it down to two. I had always gotten along well with their entire families, and I was still in pretty regular contact with both of them. Mike lived the nearest to me in the old days. He came from a big family, with 6 siblings, including Peggy, who'd been one of my first real deep infatuations. When I had been in 9th grade she'd been a senior, and was pretty and sophisticated. My yearning for her was unrequited, but I relished the idea of seeing her again after four years. She was a college senior, and would probably be home. I knew they'd welcome me, but I was concerned it would be an inconvenience. They did not have a large house, and it was bound to be crowded, particularly with three college kids home for the holiday. On top of that who knew if they had anyone else in tow? Tommy on the other hand came from a relatively well-off family who always lived well within their means. He had an older brother, who was working in Japan and unlikely to be home, a sister, Sheri, just a year behind us in school, and two much younger siblings, who I guessed would be around 9 and 10 by now. They had a spacious house, each kid had their own room, and I wouldn't be putting anybody out if I stayed there. I'd always had a crush on Sheri, but although I'd dated her best friend, I'd never gone out with her. Getting a chance to see her again would be an extra bonus. Feeling nervous and awkward, I dialed Tommy's number from memory, and luckily got him on the first call. If I'd gotten somebody else, I would have really felt uncomfortable. Tommy's answer was unmistakable. He had a funny way of saying hello when he answered the phone, and the sound of his voice took me straight back down memory lane. "Hee-ello," he answered. "Tommy! Guess who?" I asked. I guess my voice must have been similarly recognizable, since he didn't hesitate a second. "Steve-o! What are you up to? Where're you at?" He answered eagerly. It put a smile on my face. Nice to hear a happy, upbeat voice that seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. "Funny you should ask. It's a long story, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm at Tyndall, and stuck here until Christmas Day." I told him. "What happened to Chile, and Rochester?" He asked. "I was on my way home to Chile, when I lost my seat on the plane in Charleston. I couldn't get out again until the 26th, so when I saw an empty plane headed this way, I just hopped on and hoped for the best." I explained. "That's Great!" He almost shouted. "Not great that you couldn't get home, but great that you're here. You want to stay with us? You can have Greg's room, he won't be here, and I'm sure Sheri and Mom would love to see you. The place is kind of 'down' with Greg canceling his trip home at the last minute. Having you here should cheer things up a bit." He did sound enthused, and I couldn't help grinning in reply. "Don't you think you should check?" I laughed. A scream in my ear was the answer, as I heard half of a shouted conversation. "Mom! Guess Who's In Town." "No, Not Greg." "No, Go Ahead Guess." "Guess Again." "Ok, Ok - Steve." "Yeah, Steve Pelland. He's Stuck Here In Town 'Til Christmas Day." "Of Course I Told Him He Should Come Here, I'll Go Get Him." "I Will." "Yes Mom; Yes; I Won't; I Will." I was holding the phone a little away from my head, and almost missed it when he came back on. "Where should I pick you up?" He asked. "The Main Terminal, you know where that is right?" I answered. "Sure - be there in about 30 minutes. Man, this is Great!" I hung up with a big smile on my face, feeling 100% better than I had just 10 minutes earlier. I stood outside waiting for him, and about 20 minutes later the strings of Christmas lights shut off one at a time, as the place closed up for the night. It was dark and quiet, and I started to get nervous again, wondering if this had been such a good idea. I was 500 miles from my flight home and completely at the mercy of old friends. But as far as friends go, I couldn't do much better than mine, and figured at the least I wouldn't be sleeping in a lonely terminal in Charleston for two days, slowly eating my way through my meager funds. When Bob pulled up around midnight, I could see he'd gotten rid of the VW Bug he'd inherited from his mother upon turning 16, and was now driving his brother's old Two-tone Cougar. We spent a minute saying hi, and loading my gear into the trunk, and then we headed back into town, catching each other up on history. When I had first moved to Santiago, I used to write about once every couple of months, as well as call a couple of times a year. In the beginning I'd written Sheri a lot as well. She was one of the most prolific writers among my old friends, and would typically write twice to me for every one I wrote to her. Over the years, that had degenerated into holiday cards and a surprise call maybe once a year. I knew he was attending Florida State, and that Greg had graduated from Georgetown, and had moved to Japan on business. That was about it. Tommy told me all about the old gang, who was in town, who was going to what schools, what people had been up to. I told him a lot more detail about what I'd been up to. "So," he asked, "Got a girl?" "Not now. Thought I had one after the ROTC Christmas ball, but that seems to have been my mistake." I admitted. "Hard to believe. You always had someone. Every letter, every phone-call, just seems like they didn't stay the same all that long." He teased. "I don't know. I had several relationships last pretty long. Two were more than 6 months long." I argued. "Oh! Six Months!" He laughed. "How about you then," I asked in defense. "Still Erin. Almost two years now." He asked. "Shit. What does she see in you? She could do so much better." I teased. "Oh really? Like how?" "Like me!" I laughed. "Right, like that would ever happen! Don't even think about it, or you'll be sleeping in the street." He was laughing as well. "Not if I called Erin I wouldn't," I shot back. I thought it was a great comeback, but it earned me a sock in the arm. We pulled up to his house, which still looked exactly the same, and things were pretty quiet. They used the same window lights, same roof lights, same bush trimmings year after year. It was just as I remembered. Who says you can't go back? "Mom's got to work tomorrow, so I'm sure she's in bed, and you know Dave crashes early, so we better keep it down. We've got lots to do tomorrow anyway." We entered quietly and put my bag in Greg's old room. Tommy stayed and chatted for a few minutes then bid me good night, telling me to sleep in as long as I wanted, as long as it wasn't past 9:00 am, and left me to get settled. Past 9:00? Now I remembered, they'd always been an early-bird household. For me 9:00 am Was the crack of dawn. Tommy and I had breakfast at about 9:30. He was already chiding me for sleeping in and missing the whole family. We had the house to ourselves. He'd been on the phone arranging our day, and once we'd finished the pancakes, we were off to see Mike and his family. Entering Mike's house was the same as it had ever been, but more-so. People everywhere, noise, laughter, roughhousing, it was all taken in stride by Mrs. Frey. We spent a few hours visiting, and getting fed again before we could leave. Mike's older sister Peggy still looked cute to me, but not the amazing creature my memory had somehow stored away. I had to tease her about the Christmas gift she'd given me three years earlier. She'd bought me a Richard Pryor tape, thinking it was Bill Cosby. When I played it for her in my car, she exploded, calling me names and accusing me of vile intent. At the time I had felt bad, confused, angry and a host of other feelings, now thankfully we could laugh at it. When I'd been 16 I'd been somewhat in awe of her, now things were comfortable. Mike's older brother was home as well, with his live-in girlfriend who seemed awfully ill-at-ease, and must have been at least 5 years older than Dan, maybe more. That was a story I'd have to hear more about. The biggest surprise was Alice. She'd been a few years younger than us. I wasn't sure if she was 16 or 17 now, but she was a bombshell. And she was coming on to me like gangbusters. I was really nervous, with her acting all touchy-feely with her mother and Peggy there. I was suddenly glad I had chosen to stay over with Tommy. With a pretty, stacked girl that seemed so infatuated with me around, I'm afraid I might have gotten into a whole lot more trouble than I needed. When we left there Mike joined us, and it was off to see Jack and Russ. They were a year apart in age. Russ had been in our class, and we'd been friendly with him, but Jack, although a year younger was our buddy. We played on the basketball team together, and when Tommy and I formed our first band, Jack was our bassist. At the Chambers house, we once again reminisced, and had to relive our first 'gig'. We had decided to play in the school talent show. With Tommy on piano and Jack on bass, I played guitar. We had a fourth guy on drums we'd all lost contact with. We had played Elton John, Deep Purple, The Eagles, and The Beatles. We had opened with the opening riff of "Smoke on the Water", and had been a hit. We were pretty lousy, but the audience was our friends, our parents and the parents of our friends, and at the end the parents even took up a collection for us. Pretty heady stuff. We'd called ourselves Bronze Myth, and had already designed our first three album covers before we had our first birthday party gig. Jack had been tall then, and had not stopped growing; he was now 6'7" and was attending University of Florida, playing basketball. He reminded me of the time when we went on our first dates together. I had gone with Kathryn Best, easily the most lusted after girl in the whole school, who was in Jack's class a year behind me. Jack, on the other hand, had gone out with our "Valentine's Day Queen", Anne, who was in my class and almost two full years older than Jack. He was always precocious. There had been a third couple with us, Dennis and Suzanne, and Jack broke the news that Suzanne had gotten knocked up, just before I left to go overseas, and she and Dennis had gotten married. There was a huge scandal, but they stuck together, and had the baby. They lived with Suzanne's parents. Dennis was doing alright, working for Suzanne's father. While we were visiting, several friends dropped in, including the aforementioned Kathryn who lived one street over. Kathryn, the stunning brunette who had the body of a 20 year old when she was 15, and had a beautiful face with features that just slayed me. Kathryn, the very first girl I had gotten to Third Base with. She was as pretty as I remembered, and I found out she was going to be attending Mt. Holyoke the following year, which was an odd coincidence since my girlfriend from High School was a sophomore there. Going out with Kathryn, a year younger than me had been a total fiasco. We'd sat together on an out-of-town bus trip and ranked high enough in the pecking order that we got the right hand seat second from the back. These trips were our biggest dates back then. Ours was a small parochial school, and on the bus trips, the athletes, cheerleaders and student fans all rode the same bug. The 30-90 minute trips were like pep rallies on the way out, and like the back of movie theatres on the way back. There were frequent "hand-checks" and the lights would come one as our coaches would walk the aisle, but it seemed like after our wins, the checks would be a little less frequent. Our win at Pensacola was my first real 'make-out' session, as we cuddled and kissed the whole trip home. I even got a chance to play with her breast through her sweater. Less than a week later I asked her to the movies, and we sat in the back with the two other couples, probably both scared spitless and nervous as goldfish in a blender. We'd started necking, which got more and more intense, and my hands boldly went where no hands had gone before. An hour into the movie I was almost out of control, and feverish with desire, and it seemed she was willing to let me do whatever I wanted. If I'd had a little more confidence, or a little more knowledge, who knows what might have happened? As it is, I went pretty far, probably too far, and I was scared to death afterwards. She was the first girl whose flesh I'd touched underneath her clothing. I didn't call her for several days, and even avoided her at school, not knowing what to say. In short I was a total jerk. Everyone thought we should be together, she was the pretty captain of the cheerleaders, with the big boobs, and I was the Big Jock, playing all the sports, while at the same time excelling in school. She was voted "Most Popular." I was "Most Likely to Succeed." However, in this case it turned out she was "Most Slighted", and I was definitely "Most Inept." After waiting several days, amazingly patient in retrospect, she had tasked her best friend Sheri, Tommy's sister, with letting me know that she thought we shouldn't go out. Next thing you know, she was going out with some geeky looking kid, and she dated him for the rest of the school year. I'd changed schools at the end of that year, and had seen her only infrequently the following year, before moving to Santiago. Outside in the backyard, Kathryn and I walked off together and finally had a few minutes alone. "You know Kat, I don't think I ever apologized for being such an idiot, after our first date. I really am sorry." She was quiet for a while. She had a sad little look. "You know, I waited by that phone night after night, crying myself to sleep. I saw you dodging me at school and it broke my heart." "I was young and stupid. I'd never done Anything with a girl before, and could hardly even believe I was with the hottest girl in school. After all the stuff I did, God, I was so embarrassed that I'd overstepped the boundaries, and I had no idea what to say." She sat down underneath the big tree in the backyard and I sat beside her on the circular bench around it. "You could have said something to Jack maybe, or Tommy, and let them tell me. At least let me know that you liked me, or had fun. Something." She looked on the verge of tears, even 3 years later, and I felt even worse. "I know. I kept kicking myself over it. I was so angry with myself and jealous when you went out with Ricky." I admitted. "He was nice to me when I needed it." "But it seemed such an odd fit. He was a nobody; the only thing he ever did noteworthy was date you." I told her. "He lived two houses down. We'd grown up together, and when my heart was broken he picked up the pieces. He could tell something was wrong, and really made me feel a lot better." She confessed. That brought on a short period of silence. It did let me think better of Ricky, who wasn't just lucky or an opportunist. "You know, that was one of the most memorable moments in my life. Touching a girl like that for the first time. I had no idea what I should do, or what I could do, but I kept looking down the row at Dennis and Suzanne, and figured I should be able to do that too. I was in heaven; you were so amazing to be with." I told her, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. Her palm was moist. "You're telling me? You were the big 9th grader with the learner's permit and motorcycle. Big Man on Campus. The guy every girl wanted. And you wanted me. I had no idea what we should or shouldn't do on a date. I was hoping you knew." We laughed at that, remembering the intensity of those feelings. "Given a chance to do it over, I'd have camped out on your doorstep and professed my undying, eternal love the moment you walked out the door." I told her, half serious. "As I recall, you professed your love for me that evening, just before opening the top of my pants." She said with a wicked grin. I'm sure I blushed mightily. "I can't really ask forgiveness, but I really am sorry. Sorry now and sorry then. I fantasized about you for years afterwards, thinking of what could have happened if I hadn't been such a jerk. You have no idea how many of my fantasies you starred in back then." "If only you'd have let me know. Ricky was my first. It could have been you. Given half a chance, it would have been you." She had moved close and was speaking softly. "And this is my punishment. Knowing how bad I fucked up. Seeing you here, as beautiful as in my dreams, and knowing I've screwed up any chance of being with you." I placed my hand behind her head, stroking her hair. "I wouldn't say you'd screwed up Any chance, but you certainly blew that one." We were looking deeply in each other's eyes, recalling strong, painful feelings. I wanted her now, as I'd wanted her then, with a deep burning need, and I leaned forward those last two inches, and captured her lips with mine. She slid forward and melted against me, kissing me with every emotion boiling to the surface. She took my hand and placed it on her incredible chest, and I squeezed her breast, my thumb reliving that first caress of her nipple from so many years earlier. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, and then broke apart. Her eyes glistened. "I've got a boyfriend." She confessed. I nodded understanding. "If I didn't?" I reached forward pressing my index finger to her lips. "I know. I missed my chance. It's my loss." We just sat side by side a minute, in silence. "You know," she said softly, "what you did to me that night, that was part of the problem." "I know. I'm sorry if I stepped over the line." I said, even now embarrassed at the liberties I'd taken. "No, not anything wrong. What you did to me, how you made me feel. You made me cream my jeans more than once that night. It was the first time I'd ever come. I'd heard about it, but it was almost unreal. Your fingers just drove me wild. It was over a year before another guy was able to do the same." She put her hand between her legs, seemingly remembering that first night. "That makes two of us. I don't know if you knew, but I came in my pants too, and you never even touched me there. By the time I got home I was a terrible sticky mess. I snuck out and threw that underwear away before my mother could find them and ask uncomfortable questions." I told her, laughing. She gave me an odd little look, and then slid around the tree, placing its 3 foot wide trunk between us and the house. She reached out for me, and of course I followed. "Could I, I mean would you mind?" She seemed lost for words. "What? Just ask. I certainly owe you one." I told her. She didn't ask, she just started unbuckling my belt. "I always wondered, and never really had a chance to find out." With the belt open she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. "I mean, that night, you got to find out pretty much ALL about me, but I didn't; " I lifted my hips and let her pull my pants down a short ways, and then she reached up and pulled my underwear down exposing my fully erect monument to her sexiness. "I knew it, you bastard. Look at that." I didn't have to look. I knew it pretty well. And it was certainly standing tall and making me proud. She took me in hand and stroked me up and down, which after all the discussion and reminiscing was almost enough to get me off. "I just knew it. This should have been my first." She slowly stroked me up and down, and then she leaned over and took me in her mouth for just a second, sucking me deep and then releasing me. That was it. It was too much for me, and I stood up and shot my wad a good two feet out from where we were sitting. She giggled, as she helped me through my release, then pulled my underwear up back over my still dripping cock, and wiped her hand on the front of my briefs, before helping me pull my jeans back up. "If I wasn't tied up, I'd have you paying reparations," she told me as we both stood, and she slapped my hands away from my belt and finished straightening me out herself. "Let's consider it a delayed payoff. If things don't work out for you, maybe we can try it again. Rochester isn't That far from Amherst." Little did I know what the future held in store for us, but that's a different story. We walked back to the house hand-in-hand, laughing at the folly of youth, from the wizened experience of our 18 and 19 years. She had to leave shortly after, as did we, and I kissed her goodbye at the door. Once the door was closed I heard an exclamation from behind me. I turned to Tommy who said, "Now I've seen everything." "Amen," said Jack. "What?" I asked. "After how you treated her after our first date, I was certain you were on her shit-list for life." Jack explained. "Absolutely." Tommy chimed in. "Sheri said that Kathryn fantasized about doing mean and nasty things to you for years. I mean, hell, you did use her pretty bad." "I was a dope. I did some things I'd never done before, and was so embarrassed I didn't know how to even face her. So I screwed up and avoided her. I just made my apologies and we worked things out. I think she understands that I didn't try to be mean; I was just young and stupid. I didn't know what I was doing, and regretted it for years." I told them. "Geez. I always wondered how you could pass on that, when she was so available to you. You really did fuck up, didn't you?" Tommy pointed out. "Yep, not the first time, and I'm certain not the last. But we've buried the hatchet it seems." I answered "I'm just astounded that hatchet isn't in your back." Jack added. We left just a short while after that. We had one last visit to make. Teri Branson was passing through town, and wanted to see us if she could. She was just there for the day, and none of us wanted to miss out on that chance. The summer before 10th grade, I'd practically lived at Teri's. It was football time, and we were doing twice-a-days. We'd have morning practice, then a break so we wouldn't be out all day in the noon-time Florida summer sun. After the break it was afternoon practice. Teri was at our school and I never really knew her until that summer. She lived only a block from Mike, and we had run into her one day out washing the family car. We struck up a conversation, and the rest was history. I spent every football break at her house that summer. Mike didn't play football, but I'd pick him up on the way over there, and we'd hang out. She had a pool table, and a private rec-room with a stand-up arcade game. Her mother would always bring us snacks and drinks. Teri had not been popular, and was new to the school as well. But in a period of just a few months she went from a boyish figured tom-boy, to a devastatingly beautiful teen. Her breasts seemed to almost explode outwards, and once we'd met her mom, we knew where she got it from. She lost some weight, traded glasses for contacts, grew tits, lost the braces, and suddenly this beauty was in our midst, and nobody even knew about her but us. She was our secret. Tommy was going to a different high-school from me and Mike, but we still hung together most of the summer, and we had to let him in on our secret. The closest we'd come to having anything happen was a bizarre game of spin-the-bottle underneath the pool table. Mike, Tommy, me and Teri. Just an excuse for us to take turns kissing her. Her father was being transferred again at the end of the summer. I told her I was going to have a birthday party, and that we were going to play spin-the-bottle, I had hoped she'd be there, but now she was leaving. We were all upset. Tommy suggested we play now, since she couldn't make it then, and we did. It was strange but wonderful. Two weeks later she was gone. We met Teri at the mall, our planned rendezvous. We couldn't miss her; she was the center of a lot of attention. And still gorgeous. We ran up to her and had hugs all around. "I can only stay about 20 minutes," she told us with a pout. "Damn," was all I could say. So the three of us toured the mall, observing all the changes. It had been brand new the year we had been together. We grabbed some drinks, and wandered back outside, our time almost up, and barely even caught up. "Teri, I have a confession." I told her. "I know we acted pretty much like friends, but I was crazy about you. That summer I went home every evening and dreamed of you." "Hell, we all did." Tommy admitted. "We were such idiots," she said. She reached up to my collar and pulled me down for a kiss. Teri stood maybe 5 foot 1, so I had at least a foot on her in height. Bent over I let her kiss me, and I returned it eagerly. Finally she released me. "I was so confused. One day I'd like you, and then the next day you," she said nodding around the group, "and then you. I kept wondering who was going to be my first real boyfriend. I just knew it was going to be one of you. And then it was all over." She looked up at me. "I Still dream about you sometimes." All we could do was laugh it off, and say we'd get together sometime. She was living in Phoenix now, finishing high school, and it looked like she'd be going to Stanford. It was going to be hard to ever make that commute work out, not that she didn't seem like it would be worth the effort. Then her parents drove up. We said hi to her mom (who had been a secret fantasy of mine back then) and then with a last set of hugs it was goodbye to Teri. It was getting late so we dropped Mike back off at his house, driving mostly in quiet. I imagine we were all lost in thought over the quirks of fate and what might have been. For me, it was thoughts of Kathryn and Teri, two incredible opportunities that any teen would kill for, and I'd let them slip through my fingers. We dropped Mike off, but didn't go inside. As it was we were running late, and knew that if we went in, it would be a while before we got out of there. From Mike's it was a 5 minute drive back to Tommy's, but we drove past Teri's old house, just for nostalgia's sake. At Tommy's we were running late. Dinner was going to be at 6:00 pm, and somehow we'd burned the whole day. It was 5:45 before we even walked in the door, and we both wanted to clean up before dinner. The kid's rooms were served by two separate bathrooms, one at the end of the hall, and one off of Greg's room. So I stripped down to my shorts, and went to take my shower. I hadn't expected the bathroom to be full. Sheri was in their, applying the last of her makeup. Fortunately (or unfortunately) she was dressed. When I walked in, she gave a squeal, and came over and gave me a big hug. "I can't believe you're here! You're looking good." She said, stepping back and giving me the once over. "Wow, Sheri, you look great!" was all I could say. She had always been pretty. But the difference between a 15 year old Sheri and this one was night and day. The more mature Sheri was a beautiful young woman. "Thanks," she said, "I'll be out of here in a second, and you can have the place to yourself. I'm dying to talk to you." "I'll be here all night." I joked, stepping back into the room I was using, before my underwear had to undergo any more strain. I sat on the bed waiting, and after just a minute or so she poked her head in and said "It's all yours." She left the door open and walked out the other side of the bathroom. So that was one change at least that I hadn't noticed. Back in the day, this was Greg's bathroom. But since then someone had taken out the linen closet, and the old closet door now opened into Sheri's room. In retrospect it should have been obvious. With Greg away, the bathroom had a lot of stuff in it, although very neat. If I'd opened a cabinet or drawer, I would have seen all the makeup and girl's things. I was using Sheri's bathroom. I rapidly cleaned up and dressed. I was in a bit of a hurry, wanting to still wrap a couple of small presents for my hosts. I had bought several music tapes for my sister as a Christmas present, and decided to gift Tommy with one of them. I also had a photo in a frame for my mom, and decided to make the frame a family gift. It was simple, hand-made by yours truly from apple-wood. After borrowing some paper, tape, and scissors, I was ready to join everyone else just a few minutes later. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts, for Literotica

In this episode, we hear about:  A man dealing with a betrayal in his friend group  A man worried that he's a love bomber  A woman struggling with survivor's guilt after an organ transplant    Next Steps: ❤️ Get away with your spouse today!

Welcome to Ask Paul Tripp, a weekly podcast from Paul Tripp Ministries where pastor and best-selling author Dr. Paul David Tripp answers your questions, connecting the transforming power of Jesus Christ to everyday life.This week, Paul responds to a question from a husband who has endured repeated infidelity in his marriage and is wrestling with where grace ends, what faithfulness requires, and how to discern whether staying or leaving honors the Lord.If you have a question you'd like to ask Paul, you can email ask@paultripp.com or submit it online at PaulTripp.com/Ask.Partner with Paul Tripp MinistriesPaulTripp.com/Give Marriage: 6 Gospel Commitments Every Couple Needs to MakePaulTripp.com/Marriage

This week on Relic Radio Thrillers, we hear from Europe Confidential.  Here's their episode from October 10, 1957, The Blackmailed Spy Affair. Listen to more from Europe Confidential https://traffic.libsyn.com/forcedn/e55e1c7a-e213-4a20-8701-21862bdf1f8a/Thriller925.mp3 Download Thriller925 | Subscribe | Spotify | Support Relic Radio Thrillers Relic Radio Thrillers is made possible by your support. If you'd like to help this show keep coming every week, visit donate.relicradio.com for [...]

Ralph heads to "The Hair Affair" to find out if anyone there remembers Samantha Rungdale and the night in question. Meanwhile Brandon finds out more information on the mysterious caller. This has to lead somewhere right?

My Wife's Affair Partner Helped Her Steal My $1.5 Billion FortuneBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

Thank you to everyone who recommended Mia Vincy. Merry Christmas to us, becasue we can't wait to read more of her.

After betrayal, many people carry a quiet belief: “If I had been more, they wouldn't have needed someone else.” This short Christmas Day bonus episode gently dismantles that idea. Luke explores why unmet needs are internal experiences, why adults are responsible for expressing and managing them, and how taking responsibility for someone else's unmet needs leads to self-erasure. This is not an episode about fixing, analysing, or understanding the past. It's an invitation to stop punishing yourself, and to rest. If you're listening today, I'm really glad you're here. You don't need to work on yourself today. You don't need clarity today. You don't need answers today. You're allowed to rest. Connect with Luke: Website: www.lifecoachluke.com Instagram: @mylifecoachluke Email: luke@lifecoachluke.com Join the After the Affair community at www.facebook.com/groups/aftertheaffaircommunity

What better way to end the year than with a with a double dose of Kei and Yuri, a.k.a. the Dirty Pair!  We'll be exploring the history of the beloved space opera franchise, reviewing both the Dirty Pair: Affair of Nolandia OVA from 1985 and Dirty Pair: Project Eden movie from 1987, and answering listener questions.  Enjoy the show! Timestamps: [00:00] Intro + Ashita no Joe manga, Musou games, Ultraman Zett, Tojima Wants to be a Kamen Rider, Sentai news [36:35] Pre-Review: Dirty Pair  [1:11:57] Review: Dirty Pair Affair of Nolandia OVA [1:46:59] Review: Dirty Pair Project Eden [2:26:53] Bluesky Questions

Silly Caucasian boys like to play with samurai swords. With the unedited edition of KILL BILL finally hitting theaters, the fellas sit down with their buddy James Emanuel Shapiro to talk about Quentin Tarantino's magnum opus. Is it the best movie ever made, or the most movie ever made?

Twas a Perv Christmas. Christmas eve with your favorite, kinky, perverted family. (2 poems) Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Twas the night before Christmas,and all through the dwelling. Not a creature was stirring,'cept my cock, which was swelling; From walls hung portraits,setting the mood, Above the mantel hung Grandma,She posed fullly nude; Down the hall, on her bed,Coed stepsister did sit, A vibrating dildo,rubbed on her hard clit; Stepmom in panties,and I in the nude. Had just readied our loins,before getting screwed. When from outside the window,there arose such a cry, My head darted up,from stepmom’s wet thigh; Jen's eyes got so wide,as we both turned to see, Just what sort of Christmas,the visit might be; The moonbeams bounced off,the snow all so white, I blinked as I tried to,make sure of my sight, What did I see,that gave me such pause? It was the round, jolly face,of old Santa Clause! Framed in the window, red cheeks and a beard, When in through the doorway,Buxy Susan appeared; I opened the window,we pulled him within, Jenny glanced at her daughter,then said with a grin: “Santa! We're busy,You're spying, You creep! I’m riding my stepson,and you try to peep! That’s awfully spotty,for man such as you! I wonder what naughty,kinky perversions you do! Now please come on in,and join the fun, We’ll be on the nice list,when finally done!” Quick as the devil,Jen's down on her knees, Tugging his Pants off,as fast as she please, The Sled Musher looked down,his eyes wide with shock, When out of his britches,popped his massive cock, She started to suck him,with skills of a pro, And Santa exclaimed,“Sue, Your Mom's a Ho!” My stepsister laughed,as she fell to Jen’s side, She opened her mouth,took both ball's inside, Her tongue lapped and writhed,his scrotum with care, As Jen bobbed on his shaft,and came up for air, She said, “I’ve taught her well,don’t you think St. Nick? Watching her lick you,gets my pussy all slick.” They sprung to their feet,and got back in bed, “Why don’t you fuck her,while Billy gives me head?” Susan then beamed,and she squealed with delight, then spread her legs and cried,“hurry down my chimney tonight!” And taking my cue,I crawled to Jen’s bits, my tongue, ran up through it,from the crack to the slit, Santa rushed forward,his hard swollen tip, And rubbed it on Susan's,soft, shaven lips; As he pushed it inside,Susan’s ass gave a leap, He was all the way in her,rigid hard and balls deep; Watching her daughter,Jen gave a moan, My tongue pushed down firmly,her clit hard as a bone; Susan writhed on the mattress,her feet in the air, While Santa Clause thrusted,Jen gripped on my hair; At once her back arched,and her toes they did curl, My sister shouted, “Don't stop! I'm Cumming!”while I sucked Jenny's Pearl; Jen pushed my face up,my chin wet with juice, And she said, “My turn! Santa,put my twat to good use!” Her lips stuck out,from under her ass, Santa slid out of Susan,said, “Awe! There’s a good lass!” He went behind Jenny,and in her he plowed, His log hit her g-spot,she cried out aloud; Still horny myself,”Stepsis, want some more?” Got on her knees and said,“Billy, make me a whore!” Sue knelt before Jenny,I poked in her cunt, Jen groaned as I panted,and I heard Santa grunt; He pulled on Jen's hair,Mom’s face all a glow, I pounded up, Susan’s,tits bounced too and fro; She cooed as I fucked her,I smiled at her mother, “Sue, you get along well,with your stepBrother.” We're all moving faster,the bed rocked and squeaked, There's magic in the air,as we all reached our peak; Then Jen started first,a long, bellow scream, Susan came next,as I filled her with cream; With eyes all a twinkle,Saint Nick shot his load, It was a Miracle,Mom didn’t explode! I pulled out of Sue,Nick pulled out of Jen, They fell to the sheets,cunts full to the brim; They both were in giggles,together they squirmed, then straddling each other,they sucked out the sperm; Sue looked up at Nick,her eyes had a glint, Licking her lips, said,“Yum! tastes like mint.” Nick stumbled backwards,and pulled up his drawers, His face was beat red,sweat flowed from his pours; He got to the Window,about to slip out, But paused and he turned,and said with a shout: “You people are lovely,That much I will say! But tonight you're naughty,since Harold's away!” Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle, for Lush Stories. How The Inch Stole Xmas. From The Fucks down in Fucksville. Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Every Fuck down in Fucksville liked Xmas a lot; But the Inch, who lived just north of Fucksville, did not! The Inch hated Xmas! The whole Xmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be that his testicles were hung up far too high. It could be, perhaps, that his bladder was shy. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his cock was two sizes too small. But who cares why? The guy was a schmuck, He stood there on Xmas Eve, hating the Fucks, Staring down from his lair with swollen, blue balls, At the radiantly lit windows below in their halls. For he knew that every Fuck down where he gazed, Was busy now, having their pubic hair shaved. "And they're trying on their nighties!" he snarled with a sneer, "Tomorrow is Xmas! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Inch fingers nervously drumming, "I must find some way to stop all those Fuckers from cumming!" For tomorrow, he knew, all the lusty studs and sluts, Would wake nice and horny. They'd all start to rut! And then! Oh, the moans! Oh, the moans! Moans! Moans! Moans! That's one thing he hated! The moans! Moans! Moans! Moans! Then the Fucks, barely legal and mature, would hump. And they'd hump! And they'd hump! And they'd hump! Hump! Hump! Hump! They would hump in their pussies, and tight little rumps. Which was something that put the Inch down in the dumps! And then the thing that he hated most would begin! Every Fuck down in Fucksville, the fat and the thin, Would lay close together, with their vibrators humming. They'd lay side-by-side. And the Fucks would start cumming! They'd cum! And they'd cum! And they'd cum! Cum! Cum! Cum! And the more the Inch thought of this Fuckville wide climax, The more he thought, "I must stop this whole thing in its tracks!" "Why, for sixty-nine years I've put up with it now!" "I must stop this Xmas from coming! But how?" Then he got an idea! A nasty idea! The Inch got a wonderful, nasty idea! "I know just what to do!" The Inch laughed in his throat. And he made a quick wide brimmed hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "I am such a devilish Imp!" "With this coat and this hat, I look just like a Pimp!" "All I need is a hooker." The Inch looked around. But, since the Inch had no Hos, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old bastard? No! The Inch simply said, "If I can't find a woman, I'll make one instead!" So he gathered some straw, and he formed it into shape, And he planted a red wig on its head with some tape. Then he grabbed the straw woman and a few old rucksacks, And then jumped behind the wheel of his rusty old Cadillac. Then the Inch said, "Let’s go!" And the jalopy started down, Toward the homes where the Fucks lay asnooze in their town. All their windows were dark. Soft groans filled the air. The Fucks were all dreaming wet dreams without care. When he came to the first flophouse on the square. "This place will work for a start," the old Inchy Pimp hissed, And he jumped into the window, empty bags in his fist. Then he crept into the living room, on the tips of his toes, past the discarded condoms and piles of clothes. And into the parlor, the Inch gleefully strolled. In the middle of the room was a polished stripper pole. Laid out beneath it were wondrous sex toys galore. "They won’t need these!" he chuckled, as he started his chore. Then he slithered and slunk, with his heart starting to sing, Around the whole room, and he stole every plaything! Dildos! And Sybians! Anal beads! Balls! French Ticklers! Massagers! Butt plugs! And dolls! And he stuffed them in sacks. Then the Inch, the old baddie, Threw the sacks, into the trunk of his Caddy! Then he snuck to the bathroom. He took every pill! He took the ribbed condoms! All the sensual thrills! He cleaned out the bathroom of the last drop of lube. Why, that Inch left nothing but one single pube! Then he threw all the junk into the car with scorn. "And now!" growled the Inch, "I will take all the porn!" And the Inch grabbed films, dirty books and magazines, When a small voice almost made him jump out of his jeans. He turned around fast, and he saw a young Fuck! Petite Cindy-Blew You, who was naked as buck. The Inch had been caught by this 22 year-old miss, Who'd got out of bed to use the commode for a piss. She gazed at the Inch and said, "Mister Pimp, why,” "Why are you taking our Pornography? Why?" But, you know, that old Inch was such a clever old prick, He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick! "Why, my dear sweet vixen," the bogus Pimp dissembled, "This smut is terrible!” he said, with nary a tremble. "So I'm switching it out, for something much less of a bore." "I'll be back in a flash. With something much more hardcore!" And his fib fooled the minx. Then he patted her bottom, And he went to the loo, never knowing she caught him. And when Cindy-Blew You curled up under her sheet, He grabbed the last bag and chucked it in the street! Then the last thing he stole was their pole for stripping! Then he jumped out the window, practically skipping. He left nothing, no cuffs, no rope. no whips for whipping. And the one drop of lube he left was a crock, It wasn’t enough for even his tiny cock! He did the same thing to every house on every block, Leaving drops much too small for the every Fucks’ cock! There was one hour left before the Fucks started to rise, He decided that heading to his cave would be wise, The car was so stuffed with trinkets it had started to slump! With gags! And with cock rings! With clamps! And clit pumps! Three thousand feet up! Up the side of Mt. Pumpit, He drove with his load to the tiptop to dump it! "Yuck yuck to the Fucks!" he was wickedly singing. "They're finding out now what the morning is bringing!" "They're just waking up! With their morning wood throbbing!" "They’ll look all around them and then they’ll start sobbing, For the Fucks down in Fucksville will see all my robbing!" "That's a noise," grinned the Inch, "That I simply must hear!" So he paused. And the Inch put his hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow. But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound was climatic! It couldn't be so! But it this sound was loud and dramatic! He stared down at Fucksville! The Inch growled in disgust! Then he shook! What he saw was shocking, terrible lust! Every Fuck down in Fucksville, the thin and the fat, Was humping! Without any sex toys at that! He hadn't stopped Xmas from coming! They came! Somehow or other, they came just the same! And the Inch, as he watched them suck and blow, Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?" "It came with out vibrators! It came without smut!" "It came without lubricates, or plugs in the butt!" And he stared on for hours, and then something felt sore. Then the Inch looked down at something he hadn't before! "Holy shit! I have an erection!” the amazed Inch swore. "Maybe Xmas;perhaps;isn’t so much of a snore!" And what happened then? Well;in Fucksville they say, That the Inch’s micro cock grew five sizes that day! And as his member filled and hung low and swollen, He jumped in his ride to return all the loot he had stolen, And he gave it all back! All the gizmos, gadgets and the tidbits! And he, he himself! The Inch, came on Cindy-Blew’s tits! Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle, for Lush Stories.

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Get ad-free episodes, early release, and bonus shows⁠ You read that right, this episode clocks in at just under five hours. Inspired by the recent release of "Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair", we've decided to release our entire "A Haunted Life" series as one long uncut show for the holidays! Hear the entire story of our listener Meghan's incredibly haunted life and learn how she came to cope with it by leaning even further into darkness to find the light.Streamlined for continuous play, with tighter edits and fewer ads, this is the ultimate version of our longest series on GSG so far. We also recorded fresh intros and outros so we could wish you all a very merry Christmas! Full shownotes @ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠GhostStoryGuys.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

She Couldn't Get Out Of Her Affair Playing Out On The Big ScreenBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

Her Affair Basically Died After I Spread The Photos Around The ClubBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

I Found Out About Her Affair Through A Baby MonitorBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 3 It's hard to punish a girl as good as Honey, but he'll try. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. In the second week of February, Honey Lane sat on a tall stool in the corner next to Zach's kitchen counter, sulking as she watched him walk slowly around the table at which sat a girl and two boys between the ages of 7 and 10. The dour silence of the spacious industrial loft suggested more that the children were completing a college entrance exam with a severe proctor, rather than completing Valentines to be distributed in class the following Monday. Honey crossed her long legs and sighed again, earning a piercing glare from Zach. She had been looking forward to helping Zach's niece and nephews with their Valentines for a couple weeks, Until she received a call from the Health Department, advising her to take precautions due to a Covid outbreak in her dumpy apartment complex. and now she was only allowed to observe the kids from five feet away. She crossed her arms and sighed again. This was the worst punishment ever. Zach continued circling the table, trying not to notice how Honey's folded arms pushed her tits together, the neckline of her fuzzy sweater dipping between them. Beneath the soft woven folds, the silken white skin of her tits probably still bore the red marks of his passion, his teeth and lips remembering the feel of her shuddering with pleasure under them only moments before his sister dropped her kids off for the afternoon. Jesus Christ; she just uncrossed and crossed her legs again, totally oblivious to the way she flashed him an upskirt every goddamn time she did it. Unless she wasn't oblivious to it; with Honey, it was hard to tell. Zach could tell that Honey was just dying to hop down from the stool, scamper over and huddle with Amarie, Fallon and Logan, as they wrote their names on the stupid little perforated papers and stuck a pencil through the pre-punched holes for a stupid commercial holiday that was supposed to celebrate love. Honey would ask them questions about their classmates, help them choose the right stupid Valentine message for the right classmate, put stickers and shit on the cards, and generally sprinkle that fairy dust that she seemed to bring to anything she did. She was a born nurturer and would make this whole thing magical for the kids, but it couldn't be helped. Honey had scared the shit out of him and she needed to learn a lesson. It would be hard, but he just had to be strong. She would not be getting out of this. Not this time. "Done!" Fallon yelled, slamming his pencil down on the table. Logan looked up from where he was working on his third personalized Valentine message, apparently trying to sign each of them in rudimentary calligraphy, and frowned, "You just put 'F' on all of them," he said in disgust, "It looks like you're giving them a bad grade; he said, shaking his head and returning to his careful scrivening. "I am. Everyone in my class is a jerk. What are these things supposed to mean, anyway? All these cards sound stupid. Like you'd really walk up to someone you like and say 'Let's swing!' I haven't asked a girl to swing in years. I'm too old for swinging," Fallon griped, looking at his Spiderman sticker cards. A snort of suppressed laughter came out of the corner of the room, followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor in a fit of coughing. "Fourth Fucking Place! On Your Face, Maggot!" Zach roared. In the corner, hidden among the gym equipment, Zach's friend and loyal wingman Terry promptly scrambled up into pushup position again without a word. "Thirty-two," the children said in unison, prompting Zach to put another dollar into a large money-stuffed jar labeled "Language Arts Scholarship" in the middle of the table. Amarie sighed and looked longingly over at Honey, who smiled ruefully and gave her a little wave from her stool. "Why is Miss Honey on the naughty stool, Uncle Zach?" she asked. "Cards," Zach ordered, walking over to block Amarie's view of Honey with his massive body. Amarie resignedly turned back to signing her pink and purple mermaid cards that came with scented tattoos. Zach knew Amarie would be a problem. She adored Honey, and there was very little that Amarie's big brown eyes and reddish curls couldn't talk him into. She had a tender heart that couldn't believe anyone deserved to be punished; especially not someone as soft and sweet as his Honey. Goddammit. Honey leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the tightly muscled wall of Zach's back, then reached her hand up under his t-shirt and began gently scratching him. She could feel the warmth of his skin seep through the tight cotton, and smiled as she snuggled into him, still grazing her fingernails across the skin of his back. Zach's mind flashed back to this morning when her nails were not so gentle as he pounded into her tight, wet pussy, her nails digging deep, scoring his flesh in her ecstasy. A noise of pleasure escaped him before Zach disguised it as a barking cough, and quickly stepped away until he was a safer distance away from the irresistible vixen sitting, most deservedly, on the naughty stool. Shaking his head to clear it, Zach tucked his t-shirt back into his jeans and folded his arms. "Miss Honey is on the naughty stool. I ll tell you why. The other day when I got back from the race in California where I had to drag Terry's ass across the finish line in Fourth Place Behind The Fucking Bubbleheads," Zach ranted, before pausing to collect himself and continuing. "I go over to get Miss Honey at her apartment and find her giving a fucking haircut to a naked guy in her fucking living room!" "You cheated, Miss Honey?" Fallon gasped in disbelief, at the same time Logan called out "Thirty-six!" Zach fished a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and put it into the jar, taking a one out for change. A foot stomped on the floor and he glanced up to see Honey with her hand raised in the air, outrage written on her face. He raised his hand, blocking his view of her face and the heart-melting effect it had on him, and looked away dismissively. "He was not naked! Cade had a towel on!" Honey yelled in protest. Zach strode over to her, took her chin in his hand, trying to think of something harsh and authoritative to say, but got distracted by her plump lower lip instead, remembering how it felt to suck it between his own and have her open her mouth, hungry to accept his tongue. He could smell the faint strawberry scent of her lip balm and closed his eyes, clenching his jaw in an effort not to kiss her. "No talking on the naughty stool," he murmured, his eyes dipping down to let his gaze rove over her soft tits, loosely wrapped in her fuzzy sweater. Honey smirked and kissed his palm. "Miss Honey would never cheat," Amarie said with resolute confidence. Honey nodded in agreement and thanks to the young girl, tossed her long hair over her shoulder and grinned up at Zach. "Towel or no towel, I still saw Cade's nuts when she was goin' after him with the Flowbee," Zach explained, turning from Honey as Logan opened his mouth with a look of question, "And no, 'nuts' doesn't count as a swear," Zach finished, pointing at Logan. Zach resumed his rounds of the table, continuing his story. "So, of course, I reacted like anybody else who saw another guy's nuts in his girlfriend's living room, and she has the balls to tell me not to yell because it's not good for Cade." "I think 'nuts' should be fifty-cents; 'balls' too," Logan said, thoughtfully. "They might not be swears, but they are; indelicate." Zach turned to Honey and silently mouthed the word "indelicate?" to her, a discomfited look on his face. Honey bit her lips, and another snort of laughter erupted from the corner where Terry was still in starting push-up position. "Fourth Place, Maggot! You Got Nothing To Laugh About Except The Size Of Your;" Zach roared, before pausing and breathing deeply and continuing in a calmer voice. "Anyway. Turns out, this guy Cade just got back from a tour and was dealing with some PTSD when he saw another guy's balls in his living room, too, only his girl wasn't exactly giving the other guy a haircut. So, after a bit of trouble, he was living on the streets. No job. No money. Nothing. Then, a few days ago, Honey sees him eating some of the food she left out for a stray cat," Zach said, his voice constricting as his throat tightened. He turned away from the kids to hide his face for a moment, only to meet Honey's deep blue eyes and a whole new set of problems; like not remembering anything he was talking about before. She reached up and stroked his cheek, and then he felt all the blood in his brain drain down below his belt. Fucking hell. "Miss Honey helped him, though, didn't she?" Amarie said expectantly, more as a statement than a question. "What? Yeah. Of course, she did," Zach said with exasperation, looking down into Honey's face, and trying not to laugh at her stubbornly set jaw. "Miss Honey never fucking heard of "stranger danger," or met a wreck of a person she couldn't care about. So, she takes this 'Cade' in, feeds him, gets him washed up, takes him shopping at the Salvation Army, and then takes his ass to the library to write up his fucking resume and apply for jobs, for cryin' out loud," Zach said, putting another two dollars into the jar before Logan could remind him. "When I got there, Cade was there in her living room with his nuts showing under the towel, getting a vacuum cleaner haircut, because he'd gotten a job interview with a moving company." "Yeah, but if she wasn't cheating, I don't see what she did wrong," Fallon said, applying a scented mermaid tattoo to the back of his hand. "Is this what mermaids smell like?" he wondered. "Yeah, well, just as I was cooling down, this 'Cade' starts in on me for letting Honey stay in that piece of crap apartment of hers and taking in homeless guys. Even had the nerve to ask me what woulda happened if he'd been some addict, or worse, if someone that got to thinking that she was his girlfriend?" Zach said, folding his arms and looking down at Honey, who looked quite unrepentant. "What? So, Miss Honey can't be nice because they might have problems or fall in love with her?" Amarie asked. "That's not fair! You wouldn't even like her if she wasn't happy and nice all the time because she was always worried about what would happen if the boys fall in love!" "Ugh. Love ruins everything. Maybe that's why these Valentines are all so stupid, so nobody actually falls in love; Fallon said, with an air of realization. "Yeah; and then girls can take the pencil from the card and jab anybody that wants to kiss them, too." "If the burden was placed on women to be preemptively hostile to avoid rejecting unwanted affections, it might explain the decline of romance in the modern era; and 'crap' is an excremental swear," Logan added offhandedly, not looking up from his fourth Valentine message. Zach's eyes grew wide, his jaw going slack as he looked at his oldest nephew with unnerved awe and added another dollar to the jar without argument. "They should really make these things with nunchucks; Fallon added, looking down at his Valentines, "Nobody can kiss you if you have nunchucks." "The point is, even a freaked out homeless guy knew that Miss Honey did something dangerous that nobody should ever do! You don't just grab strangers off the street and take them into your homes because there's a lot of crazies out there that will mess you up for no reason at all!" Zach ranted at the kids. A stomp from the corner made Zach turn back to where Honey waved her hand insistently in the air, her sweater pulling up and exposing a narrow bit of skin at her waist. The skin was pale and beautiful, like the rest of her, except where there was a slight bruise where his fingers had gripped her tightly as he pounded into her from behind in a haze of animalistic lust, only a few hours ago. "Yes?" he asked hoarsely, a dew of sweat breaking out over the back of his neck. Honey cleared her throat, "Okay; say someone threatened to kill you and then scared you to death for a whole year by following you around; and then one day you wake up at their house all beaten up and they tell you that they're going to keep you there and take care of you until you're better. Should you give them a chance, or just phone an Uber and get the heck out of there?" Honey asked, putting her hands on her hips. A peal of laughter rose out of the corner where Terry was, and Zach stomped his foot, ending it quickly. "I don't know. That person sounds scary, Miss Honey; Amarie said, her large eyes concerned. "That's just insane. That's like that movie where this crazy lady kidnapped this guy and makes him write books for her and then she smashed his legs with a sledgehammer when;" "Who the fuck is letting you watch 'Misery,' Fallon?" Zach roared. "YouTube," Fallon said, shrugging. "Jesus Fucking Christ; Zach said, waving down Logan's hand and stuffing more bills into the jar, then walked back to where Honey sat with a smirk on her face. Glaring down at her, he crossed his massive arms, and she crossed her legs again, squirming slightly on her stool. "Maggot, come watch the kids," he barked as Terry collapsed on the floor with a relieved sigh. "I wanna talk to you in the other room," he said, gripping Honey by the back of her neck and steering her up the stairs as she tried to control her giggles. "But there isn't another room; it's all just one big room. Even your bedroom is just a big shelf;" Honey began, until Zach steered her into the bathroom and locked the door. "Hey kids, what do you say we turn this into a dance party!" Terry yelled, and loud music quickly started blasting outside the bathroom door. "Did they just fucking compare me to Annie Bates?" Zach asked as Honey dropped to her knees, unzipped his jeans and took out his painfully excited erection. "Umm huh," Honey said, hungrily filling her mouth with his hard cock, as his hand gripped the back of her head. Zach's breath hitched as she began rubbing her tongue on the bottom of his mushroom head, clutching his flexing thighs. Groaning, he thrust back and forth slowly, watching his cock slide in and out of her wet lips. "Just for that, you're swallowing my load this time," Zach growled, gripping her hair tighter and thrusting deeper. Honey just wrinkled her nose and relaxed her throat, letting him plunge and withdraw, clenching his jaw, loving the noises he made as his excitement grew beyond his control. With a strangled moan, he thrust deep and watched her eyes widen when he swelled and throbbed down her throat, until he slowly pulled out and spilled the last hot pulses on her tongue. Honey's eyes glowed as she took him once more into her mouth and slowly slid back, cleaning him with her tongue, until the head of his cock slowly emerged from her wet lips and received a sweet kiss on the tip. He shook his head in amazement and lifted her up in his arms, overwhelmed again at the miracle of having her there with him, when there were so many ways that everything that had happened between them could have gone wrong. Still breathing raggedly, he bent down and kissed her, her eager and innocent passion for him touching him more deeply than he cared to admit. How in the hell had he managed to get this girl? Zach lifted her up and set her bottom on the bathroom countertop and stripped her sweater over her head, bending and going after her neck first. He loved the way she shivered when she felt his lips and teeth drag across the smooth skin, the way she completely lost herself to him. She was already panting those soft sighs against the top of his head when he freed her tits and took them in his mouth, and then he chuckled when she jumped at the sensation of it. God, he hoped she never changed. Diving in, he devoured her soft pale flesh, her rosy nipples tightening under his busy tongue. He reached down, pushed her skirt up, and moved the wet gusset of her panties aside. He laughed again, feeling the abundant slippery nectar between his fingers, leaving no doubt that she wanted him just as much as he did her. He wanted to taste her, to feel her hips rise up under his mouth, begging him for more, but he knew Honey could never stay quiet enough, even with Terry blasting a dance mix. Lifting his head from her tits, he returned to her mouth, her nose, her cheeks; God, he couldn't get enough of her. "Look at me," he said in a rough whisper, smiling when Honey's eyes opened obediently, seeking him through her haze of need. She bit her lips and whimpered when his fingers found her clit. "Don't you come until I say," he rasped, toggling her bud expertly. Honey moaned and wound her legs around him, pulling him closer, her back arching in restrained pleasure. "Umm; I can't do it; please; please; she begged, crying softly in loss when he slowed his ministrations, "No; she whimpered. "Don't you want to come on my cock, baby girl?" he said, finding his mark and sliding home into her warm welcome. "Now, come; he said, kissing her softly and pulling her hips to him as he thrust deep. "Ah;" Honey's cry was quickly contained by Zach's hand covering her mouth, his other hand holding her steady as he thrust into her and felt her shaking and squeezing around him as she came. If he hadn't just released in her mouth, there was no way he could resist filling her full of his cum again now. Instead, he just watched Honey's eyes roll back as she clung to him, letting her orgasm take her away until it left her weak and pliable in his arms. He held her against him, slowly moving inside her, waiting for her to recover. Always before, it had been a relentless push for the intense frenzied moment, almost blind to whatever person he was with, but with Honey that was all on its head. She was the experience, for him. Seeing her discover, taste, and feel was everything he wanted. He didn't want to feel a surge ripping through him if she wasn't there, too. It wasn't real; wasn't complete if she wasn't there with him. Fuck; he was gone for this girl. "There she is; he murmured when he saw her eyes clear and smiling into his again. Relieved, he thrust faster, joining their bodies together with more force, now that she was able to be present to it. "There's my girl; he said, smiling and kissing her again. "Zach; she said, smiling back at him for no reason other than thinking he was something wonderful. Looking at her, he started shaking his head, "God, Honey; I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, it scared the fuck out of me; thinking what could've happened to you; but Amarie's right. I couldn't stand it if you were any other way," Zach rasped, lifting her off the counter just to hold her closer to him. Honey wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him as he kissed her desperately, plunging into her again and again. "Promise me; promise me you'll never change; he panted, lifting her and pressing her against the wall as his need grew. "Oh Zach; it's coming; uh; uh; uh; uh;" Honey's squeals were again silenced, this time by Zach's lips. Thrusting with joyous abandon, Zach filled her again and again, pushing into her body, his release tearing through him, made complete only by her embrace, pouring into her his need, his heart, his everything; because she was the only one he wanted to have it. A short while later, Zach and Honey slunk out of the bathroom, carefully primped and looking like nothing at all had happened. They needn't have bothered, though, because the children were transfixed with a story Terry was telling, with his foot on the table and his pants leg pulled up to show a small wound on his ankle. "And I'm screaming bloody murder, of course, because when something in the desert bites you, in your head it's always a rattlesnake, right?" he asked, to the unanimous agreement of the three children. "Well, then your Uncle Zach doesn't even miss a beat and he just picks me up, throws me over his shoulder and continues on the race like nothing happened!" "Whoa! He's really strong! You're like 500 pounds or something!" Fallon exclaimed. "Why didn't he just call for help?" Logan asked, frowning. "No coverage. This race was the middle of nowhere; and Zach figured I'd get the anti-venom faster if he brought me with him, not to mention all the things that woulda crawled up to bite me all alone out there in the desert. So, like a hero, your uncle carried me more than three miles through the desert and dumped me down only after he'd crossed the finish line," Terry said, nodding. "And what's a 'bubblehead?'" Amarie asked. "Well, you see, sweetheart, a 'bubblehead' is;" "A bubblehead is someone who works on a submarine where there's nowhere good to practice running for a race; and who give you no end of shit when you fucking come in fourth place after them, carrying an idiot with a fucking kangaroo rat bite on his goddamn ankle! Back on your face, Maggot!" Zach roared, "Fallon, go sit on Uncle Terry's back, over there," Zach said, pointing to the corner where Terry was getting back into pushup position, and then he took out his wallet and dropped the entire thing into the Language Arts Scholarship jar. "All right, kids, I'm gonna tell you the story the right way, now; Released from the naughty stool, Honey happily buzzed around the apartment, making cupcakes with Amarie, giving pointers to Logan who had decided to fold each of his Valentines into a different origami animal, and bringing water to the profusely sweating Terry, over Zach's obscene objections. At the end of the day, after the kids and Terry had gone home, Honey and Zach had nearly fallen asleep on the sofa when a knock at the door jerked them back awake. Zach seemed to expect it, though, and winked at Honey before getting up and going to the door. "Where do you want it?" the visitor's familiar voice asked, though their face was obscured by a large cardboard box. "Yeah, put them in the storage area, through there; we'll go through it all later," Zach said, pointing out the way to a uniformed Cade. "Cade! You got the job! That's great!" Honey squealed. "Yeah, well it's just moving stuff around, but I can make something of it," Cade called to her over his shoulder as he carried the box to the area Zach had specified. "And what is all this? Are you letting him stay with you until he's got a place of his own?" Honey asked Zach, her eyes shining as she wrapped her arms around him. "Not exactly. Cade's staying at your place. Actually, it's his place, now. This is your place. That's your stuff he's moving in here," Zach explained. "Wait, what? You're moving me out of my apartment?" Honey asked, getting up and looking into the boxes Cade was moving in. "It's a shitty apartment. My foot went through the floor," Zach said in disgust, walking over and enjoying the view as Honey bent over and tried to pull something out of the bottom of one of the larger boxes. "That's because you stepped on one of the soft spots!" Honey's voice said, muffled by the cardboard. "If you stayed to the path I showed you, it wouldn't have; wait a minute, you just gave my apartment to Cade? What am I going to tell my landlord?" Honey said, dropping whatever it was she was trying to lift out of the box. "I don't think the guy who owns your building's gonna mind; Zach said, scratching his chin and looking around the room with a slight smile. "Of course, he's going to mind! He minds everything! Unless it has to do with a toilet that looks like it's sinking through the floor, he; wait a minute; Zach, did you just buy my apartment building?" Honey asked, pulling her head out of the box and frowning at him. "It was really cheap. Saved them the cost of condemning it, really," Zach said with a shrug, taking her hand and pulling her against him. "I'll have Terry and Cade fix it up, rent it out. Maybe find some more guys that need a break; Cade's got some contacts at the homeless vets place." "What, so Cade's one of your guys now, too? Like Terry? I was going to make Cade my Terry! You took my Terry?" Honey asked. "Well, it's not like you knew what to with him, anymore. I have Cade training with us for next year's race, too. I'll make him carry Terry when he gets a hangnail or some other damn thing," Zach said. "Took my apartment; actually my whole apartment building; and you took my Terry. Didn't even ask. I can't believe this," Honey grumbled. "Just so you know, one of these days, I'm gonna need you to marry me and have some babies, too. Good ones, okay? None of those 'well, maybe they'll grow out of it' babies," Zach said. Honey bit her lips like she was hiding a smile and crossed her arms, "That's not how you ask someone to marry you; she said, trying to sound more upset than she felt. "I wasn't asking. Now, was I?" Zach said, lifting her over his shoulder and giving her bottom a spank before carrying her back to the living room. "Do you remember that time I slapped you and called you an 'overbearing ass?' This; Honey said, gesturing to their entire situation, "This is what I was talking about." "Hmm," Zach said, putting her down on her feet, then stretching back on the sofa, making a space for her under his arm, as he turned on the TV. Honey huffed in disgust, but curled up against him anyway, taking the remote and turning it to a movie she liked, just to make a point. Zach only smiled, pulling her closer with his arm. "That apartment was mine; she mumbled, the warm rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his enormous heart already lulling her to sleep. Zach smiled down at Honey, stroking a lock of hair away from her face, grateful and relieved that she hadn't put up more of a fuss. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head, "Yeah, well; so am I. Happy Valentine's." Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Hospitality For Santa A gullible girl finds a Christmas Night Visitor. Based on a post by tomthumper. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It was the night before Christmas when Betty Boots was awakened from her wet dream of big dripping candy canes; by a thump, and then a clunk from her apartment's living room. Her big blue eyes popped open as she listened to a rustling, then a man's voice; cursing? Excited, Betty slipped out of bed and crept towards the living room, the cool night air raising goose bumps all over her voluptuous body. The red frilly negligee she wore was frightfully thin, but Betty didn't mind the cold. She was convinced she was going to catch Santa Claus! Eight years ago, when she was just eighteen, she had hidden behind the couch as Santa put presents under the Christmas tree at her parent's home. She'd just returned from college, after semester finals. But even when she was an elementary lass, friends had tried to convince her that Santa wasn't real. But Betty was a special girl. She really, really loved Santa. Eight years ago, as Santa slipped the last present under the tree that night, her mother had come out of the bedroom wearing only a pair of white stockings, stiletto heels, and hair ribbon; and gave Santa a very friendly hug. In return, Santa gave Betty's mum a very sexy workout that night. Betty got the gift of a very sexy education. Unfortunately, the next day when young Betty's salesman Dad called from the airport, about to board his rescheduled flight home; Betty had told him all about Santa's exciting visit. Dad had gotten very upset and yelled at Betty's mum. He hung up and they never saw him again. Betty's mum was angry, and threw Betty out of the house for good. From then on Betty had to go back to college, but since the dorms were vacated til past new years, she had to turn to some fraternities, who were always happy to help the plucky, busty, blonde beauty. They were eager to trade boarding for services. But it's 8 years later. Sneaking towards her apartment living room, Betty was very excited. It was Christmas and Santa had come to visit her! She wasn't angry about Santa causing her parents to split or her abandonment. She had never connected the events. No, Betty was as happy and excited as a particularly naïve schoolgirl. Santa was in her living room! She tried not to skip with glee, as she slipped into the unlit room. Santa was bent over the entertainment center. Perhaps, Betty thought, he was leaving a holiday music CD in her stereo. She hoped it was someone sexy and sophisticated like Britney Spears or Katy Perry. Betty flushed. Santa had sure slimmed down since the last time. He had the firmest butt that showed off very well indeed, in his tight blue jeans. He must have started going to the gym because his muscles bulged beneath his black sweater. He still wore a red Santa hat, which made sense since he was Santa. "Oh; Santa," she said, half out of happiness to find him bringing her presents, and half because; Wow! He was really built. Santa was startled and turned around. Betty was confused. Instead of being old with a white beard, he was young, with chiseled features, short spiky black hair and green vigorous eyes. But then again, Betty thought, Santa was a magical man. Perhaps this was how he appeared to lonely young women who were positively bursting out of their lacy intimates, like her mom had done, some 8 years earlier? "I'm sorry Santa," said Betty in a bashful voice, after flicking on a lamp. Santa was looking very nervous. He had dropped his bag of presents with a clank; and if she didn't know better, she would have said he was about to make a break for it. "I'm sorry Santa," she repeated, edging over to him. "I know I should be tucked in bed like a good girl. But I got so very excited when I heard you delivering my presents." Santa's mouth dropped open, and it took him a moment to say anything. "Santa?" he finally managed to say, in a marvelously deep voice. "You can't fool me, Santa," Betty said proudly, sticking out her magnificent chest. "I'm smart. You're disguising yourself! You may not look like Saint Nick, but who else would be bringing me presents tonight? The Easter Bunny?" "I; I guess you caught me," Santa said, googling at Betty's buxom tits. The fabric of her red negligee was light and sheer, almost transparent. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra and her sizable jugs jostled together amiably. Santa could even catch the hint of her tit's dark areolas. "Well," he gulped. "I should go." He reached to pick up his sack. "Lots of boys and girls to visit." "Oh no, Santa!" Betty exclaimed, clutching him to her bosom. "Please don't go yet! Have some milk and cookies. Mama taught me to be extra hospitable, and be good to you." Santa got a strange look on his face as the buxom blonde rubbed up and down him in her small frilly teddy. Without her noticing, he flipped up the back of her nightie. He broke into a grin. This girl had gone to bed without any panties! "Okay," he said. "I'll stay a bit." He settled down in a brown comfy chair and let Betty serve him his milk and cookies. "Any beer?" Betty got Santa a tall cool one, which he guzzled, in one swig. "Ah!" He plopped the bottle down and looked up at Betty, who was hovering over his extended leg. Facing away, she was removing his boots for a foot massage, and accidentally giving him a preview of her equally blonde nether locks as well. He stretched and then grabbed her round the waist and set her on his lap. Then he asked with a grin. "So what do you want for Christmas, little girl?" "I thought you'd never ask, Santa!" exclaimed Betty. She giggled as she slid further up on his lap, making him go Ooof! and slip his hand up the back of her nightie; all the way up to her shoulder blades. Betty was so excited, she paid no attention to Santa's paw. "But you have to ask me the other question first, Santa," demanded Betty, bouncing on Santa's lap. "Holy" Santa caught himself just in time as Betty gave his lap the bouncing of its life. "What question honey?" "The naughty or nice question!" Betty said impatiently. "What's wrong with you, Santa?" Santa was breathing the sweet scent of Betty's hair; so had to shake his head to answer the question. "Oh, yes! Naughty or nice. Sorry, my girlfriend; I mean, Mrs. Claus left me for one of the elves." He eased his hand lower until it rested on her full round ass. Man, this chick was all curves! "That's awful, Santa!" said Betty, opening wide her full round lips around the 'aw' in awful. "Yes. I walked in on them," said Santa. "Have you ever seen an elf with a twelve inch dick?" "Not on an elf." Betty shuddered. "But twelve inches is a lot for any gal to take, let me tell you." She blushed, realizing that Santa was studying her closely. "Hmm, So you know exactly how she felt," he said, giving her bottom a squeeze. Betty giggled and wiggled. "So Santa has been all alone since June, and what with my work; I don't get to meet cute little scamps like you, except for around Christmas." "Poor Santa!" cried Betty. "So there's been no one to; relieve all the pressure?" Betty grinned as her hand involuntarily slid over the hump between his legs.. Santa might not be twelve inches, but she was pretty sure he was pushing eight or nine, judging from what a bumpy lap she was sitting on. "Yes, it's just been me and the reindeer," said Santa. "Oh, Santa," Betty said in a shocked voice. "You haven't been using Cupid or Comet that way, have you?" "What way is that?" asked Santa, running his finger down between her soft ass cheeks. "You know." Betty squirmed. "Like when a woman bends over and a man takes his; candy cane and slides it into her stocking." "Oh, reindeer-style," Santa drawled. "No, I've never gotten that desperate." He locked Betty in his gaze. "What about you? Have you been a good girl this year? I hope you haven't been getting your stocking stuffed, too much. Though you're very, very stuff-able." "Well..." Betty looked very guilty. "I've been, pretty good?" "Betty," Santa said sternly. "Remember who you are talking to." Betty tugged at the neck of Santa's sweater. "Well, I honestly didn't know about my mistletoe print dress, until Mr. Stevenson and Mr. Johnson took me into the coat room, and explained," she said in a defensive tone. "It was lucky Mr. Johnson told me to take it off, cause while they were performing the traditional punishment, Mr. Stevenson splattered all over me with his big dick! Santa's eyes widened as he imagined the banging of Betty Boots in the coat closet. His pants were getting tighter and tighter, nuzzling Betty's sexy bottom. "I got pretty tipsy as well," admitted Betty. "But I did a good deed! I gave Tim, the office boy, a hand job cause of his cock cancer." "Cock cancer?" "Yes," said Betty, biting her lip trying to remember. "He was afraid he might have cock cancer, and the only way to know was to; you know, try to cum. But he didn't want to find out all alone. So I;" Betty grinned sheepishly. "I gave him a hand job." "And?" asked Santa, shifting with exquisite discomfort. "Oh, he came really, really well!" Betty giggled. "I decided to really make sure he was A okay, so I sucked on him till he came again." Betty licked her full lips. "He tasted very healthy!" She glanced at Santa nervously. "I like tasting cocks. Is that naughty?" "Ho Ho! No!" Santa bounced Betty on his knee, watching her tits jiggle as her ass pounded his bulge. "Except Santa isn't sure if you're not just a little naughty," he said. "The last time I looked at you closely, was when you were still in high school." He wiggled the end of her button nose. "You were in the shower getting all soapy. My how you've sprouted since then!" "In the shower?" Betty squeaked. "Oh gosh, I wasn't using the shower head was I? You know, the naughty way." When Santa nodded, Betty turned bright red. "But, but I have to, cause if I don't, I just can't concentrate on anything. Even now." Betty was crossing and uncrossing her legs and nuzzling against Santa's broad chest. "There, there," said Santa, giving Betty's bottom a comforting pat. "I know a vigorous girl like you needs to let off steam if she's going to try and be nice." Betty calmed down and rested her head on Santa's shoulder. "I decided I should visit you tonight and have a good look at you, because I know how hard you try to be a good girl," he explained. "Sometimes Santa needs to really examine the borderline naughty girls. Now slip off that nightie and let's get started." Betty's eyes widened, and she sat up straight on Santa's lap. "You want to see me naked?" she asked, her voice a little shocked. "Yes," wheedled Santa. "That way I can be really sure if you are naughty or nice. You want your presents, don't you?" "I do! I do!" exclaimed Betty. "I guess it's okay, since it's you, Santa." Betty amiably reached down and took hold of the hem of her fuzzy red negligee. "Now that's the first sign of a good girl!" Santa helped Betty slip the garment over her head, and had her hold her arms up in the air as he feasted his eyes on Betty's supple body. With her perfect complexion and the lotion she rubbed all over herself, by her open window each night, she was good enough to eat. Santa groaned as his eyes unsuccessfully tried to take in Betty's firm melons. Around each nipple was a large chocolate areola, like the ring around a particularly high scoring bulls-eye. "What's the matter, Santa Claus?" asked Betty, putting her arms around him. "You seemed bothered." "Oh, it's nothing," he said, pulling Betty's warm, curvy body closer. "It is just that Mrs. Claus has nice firm tits like yours. I loved to suck on her nipples. They were so tasty." Santa's voice was heavy with sadness. After a moment of silent considering, Betty spoke up in a kindly voice. "You could suck my nipples, if you'd like. I mean, I know it wouldn't be the same as Mrs. Claus, but maybe it would help." She squirmed with delight. She was proud of her tits and having her nipples sucked made her all squishy. "If you're sure you don't mind," said Santa quickly, taking her knockers in his large hands and gently squeezing them. How plump they were! Betty shook her head, a happy half grin lighting up her face. "Thank you very much." Santa gently took the nearest nipple into his mouth and began to suck. Betty's nipples had hardened at the mere idea of Santa having a go; and each was nearly an inch long. Santa closed his eyes as he began to draw on the tasty teat. Betty moaned and rubbed herself on his lap, pushing her breasts into his face. God, she loved to be sucked! Her pussy was getting drippy with delight. "Oh, Santa!" she gasped. "You're so lumpy! What do you have in your pants?" Betty swiveled so she straddled Santa and could better rub up and down his lap. Her pussy lips had spread apart easily to nestle on the rise of his jeans. "I'm sorry, my breasty beauty," said Santa, nosing his way between Betty's heaving knockers. "It's been so long since I felt the touch of a woman. I've even started letting young women sit on my lap. "In Switzerland this Inga in a Heidi skirt hopped up, popped the buttons on my pants and pulled out my stiff todger. She was a horny girl who loved to bounce up and down." Santa gripped Betty's hips and grinded her as he spoke. "Damned if she didn't wrap her pussy lips right around me! And this was all in a crowded mall. She batted her eyes and waved to her friends. Her cunt muscles rippled up and down me as she asked for a pretty pair of shoes for Christmas. The she leaned in and whispered: "Oh Sinterklaas, I want you to use your big cock to fill up my belly!" Then in a louder voice she said, "Oh yah! Bounce me on your knee, yah!" And she rode my cock, surrounded by my elves, mummies and daddies, their children; and also her lewd little girlfriends, until I erupted into her. The last time I saw her, she indeed did have a big belly, and tits almost as big as these." He squeezed Betty's boobs together and sucked each nipple with a long hard pull at the end. "What a saucy girl! And how selfish not to consider your feelings," said Betty, pulling off Santa's cap and putting it on. "I think it is high time someone be your Santa. Or," she grinned. "Be your Ms. Santa!" She stripped off Santa's sweater and marveled at the sculpted bronze muscles underneath. Playfully, she tugged on his nipples. "What nice buttons you have Santa!" Then she whispered naughty things in his ear. "You want to ride the boobie train, Santa? You want to check out my caboose? I bet you could make me blow the whistle, Santa." "Get some steam going, baby!" He slapped her firm round bottom. "Run to your bedroom and Santa will follow with a big candy cane for his special special girl." So Betty ran, her boobs bouncing, giggling lustily, and Santa followed, dropping his pants and letting his cock wave in the air. Betty tripped on a pair of high-heeled boots and fell face down on her bed, her boobs splayed out on either side of her. Before she could move, Santa caught up, raised her bottom and started sliding his turgid cock between her plump ass cheeks. "Santa!" laughed Betty. "What a naughty boy you are!" "What a wet girl you are!" Santa spread Betty's legs and dipped his fingers into her sodden snatch. "Oh, Santa," groaned Betty. "Just how I like my ho's," chuckled Santa. He withdrew his fingers and gripped his reddened rocket. "Here comes Santa Claus! Right down Betty's cunny lane!" He fed his cock into Betty's pussy, reindeer style. "Oh, Santa!" Betty lost her balance and ended up with her head buried in pillows and stuffed animals. "Ho, Ho, Ho!" moaned Santa, his cock buried in the pussy of this beautiful woman's body. Her round toned ass was up in the air, her boobs rocking with each thrust, her empty head was lost under the pillows. "Mumfer!" Betty tried to say, flailing her arms. "Oh yes! You hot bitch!" cried Santa, battering her bottom with the pent up lust of the last six months. All he wanted was release and the liquid snugness of this beauty's snatch on his red-hot cock. That she was temporarily headless just made him more animal, more Satan than Santa. "Ah, mumph!" went Betty as Santa's dick stretched her wet pussy. She tried to pull her head from the pillows but Santa was ramming her so hard all she could do was be ridden by him like an extremely busty fuck doll. He was fucking her so fast and the air was so hot and close under the pillows, teddy bears, and her tickle-me-Elmo. She felt like the naughtiest fuck doll you might see advertised at the back of a porno rag. He was just using her to sate his big bulging cock. His swelling mushroom head rubbed her walls. She was going to cum, but she felt so dizzy, so light. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," grunted Santa, working his dick up into a white foam of her cunt cream. The sucking and slurping noises from Betty's cunt echoed off the wall as her boobs rocked back and forth on the bed. Her head was still out of sight under the bedding. "I'm gonna fill this ass!" Santa declared and slapped a red handprint across it. Then the pussy, for Santa had forgotten poor suffocating Betty, suddenly tightened and he found real resistance and purchase for his cock. The cunt dragged on his dick as he slid out, and was slow to give way as he shoved in. "Oh yes! You wonderful poon tang," he said, digging in with his dick, feeling every inch as he plowed. "That's, That's it," he groaned. And as he plunged deep; the pussy convulsed around him; giving him a series of rapid squeezes. "Hmm, ah." came the muffled cry of orgasm from under the pillows. "Oh, what a fucking tremendous naughty girl!" Santa's cock exploded and shot ropes of cum into Betty's twitching snatch. He held her weighty bottom up, and filled her up like a fuel tank on a big rig. Santa gasped and let Betty's body fall to the bed, his gleaming, still-hard cock, slipping from her pussy. Her snatch twinkled from between her golden ass cheeks. On either side of her small and finely muscled back, her boobs spread out like overfilled water balloons. Her head was still under the pillows and she wasn't moving at all. Was she even breathing? "Betty?" His cock twitched and spurted cum residual over her bottom and the small of her back. Betty didn't move at all. "Oh, fuck!" He grabbed her leg and shook it. Nothing. "Shit," he muttered. "Stealing is one thing. Pretending to be Santa, who cares? But murder!" Santa Claus, a.k.a. Sam Clay; burglar, jumped onto the bed and pulled the pillows and teddy bears from Betty Boots' blonde heat. He flipped her over, her jugs sloshing from side to side until finally coming to a quivering halt. Her eyes were closed and her plump red lips hung open. Sam had been merrily breaking into the less secure apartments of the complex, loading up on Christmas presents when he slipped into Betty's apartment through the unlocked balcony door. Who knew Christmas shopping could be so much horny fun? Or turn so wrong? "Please don't be dead," pleaded Sam. "You're such a fine fuck!" He rested his ear between her tits and held his breath. For a moment he could hear nothing over the pounding of his own heart. But then, then there was a soft and steady echoing in that wonderful chest of hers. He sat back in the bed and sighed with relief. After a moment, Betty stretched without waking up, turned on her side towards Sam; and rested her tousled blonde head on his lap. She smacked her lips and sighed. Sam had been worrying about brain damage. How many brain cells did this girl have to spare? But all worries left his mind when she put her head on his leg. "Hmm! Maybe she needs cock-to-mouth resuscitation!" he said, his dick starting to stiffen. Stroking himself luxuriously, he put his tip up to her mouth. At first she furrowed her brow and refused him, but he persisted, rubbing the tip with its bead of pre-cum over her lips until she licked them. After that she relaxed completely and let him slip his member into her mouth. First his head went in and she was eagerly sucking after a few mewls. "Oh yes, baby," he groaned as her tongue explored his cock-head, lapping the underside. "Santa's got the tasty candy-cane for you." He stroked her head, gently applying pressure on the back of her head, so soon she was bobbing her head up and down on his dick. "What a hungry mouth you have," he moaned as she sucked hungrily on him, her hair tickling his abs and her nipples brushing his thighs. Betty's eyelids fluttered open and then became very wide as she realized that she was orally pleasuring Santa's very big, very bulging dick. "Umm; Hmm! Slurp! Slurp! Oh, Santa Claus, you made me cum so hard I passed out!" Betty wrapped her hands around Sam's cock and pumped him as she talked. "I am sorry Santa, no one has fucked my brains out like that, ever!" "That's okay, Betty," Sam grunted, watching the tip of his dick disappear between Betty's boobs. "Except Santa still has this raging hard-on." "I'm sorry Santa," Betty said, realizing she was covered in a layer of hardening cum. "I'm being so selfish when I'm supposed to be giving." She climbed up Sam's prone body, took hold of his pole and slid her gorgeously tight pussy all the way down him, right to the hilt. She swayed like a bronco rider on top of him, moaning. "Oh Santa, such a big gift on Christmas!" She began to slowly slide herself up and down him. Sam lay back and watched the blonde beauty ride him, groaning as she moaned, squeezing her knockers, and urging her on. "Oh shit! You're going to be at the very top of my nice list for this," he said as she picked up her pace and began to gallop. Her boobs flew high into the air and then dropped onto her chest with fleshy thuds over and over again. Faster and faster she fucked. Her pussy was tingling every nerve of his dick until he could no longer stand it. "Jingle Boobs! Jingle Boobs," he gasped. "Jingle all the... oh god, oh god... Jingle All the Way!" And his cock gunned shot after shot into her snug little snatch. "Oh Santa. Oh Santa! Fill me up with your sticky snow!" Betty rocked her pussy furiously over his dick. "Oh, oh, Santa! Santa! Santa!" She was really loud now. She raised her arms in the air and her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. "Merry Christmas, Santa!" And she came, doing little half jerky gasps over his pulsing dick. "Merry" She bounced. "Christmas" She undulated. "Santa!" She jiggled up and down furiously for a glorious moment, her knockers slapping her chest and then her chin stunningly. Finally she fell beside Sam gasping. At that point Sam thought it was over, but he didn't realize what a trooper Betty Boots was. She slithered down to his lap and slipped his still pulsing dick into her mouth. Slowly and thoroughly she milked the last of his cum and licked his balls clean. Sam looked up to the heavens in bliss. When all of this was finished he looked down. Betty was curled up beside him asleep, a naughty grin on her face. The next morning Betty was delighted to find two presents from Santa under her two-foot plastic tree. Santa must have been a little too happy from Betty boinking because one had a label to Lori and the other one was addressed to Mabel. The Lori present was a tiny white crop top with Pretty ink-stamped across the chest. Betty blushed, thinking of what kind of attention she would get wearing a top better suited to a flat-chested twelve-year-old. The Mabel present was a black three-foot massage wand, but Betty soon found another very naughty use for her present. She was sure Santa would approve. It was the best Christmas ever!  Based on a post by tomthumper, for Literotica.

 THE UNRAVELING OF THE STRONG MARRIAGE Colleague Barbara Weisberg. Weisberg details the unraveling of the Strong marriage as Mary grows restless at the Waverly estate. Amidst the onset of the Civil War, Mary begins an affair with Peter's brother, Edward, who is grieving his own wife. The segment ends tragically with the death of Mary's young daughter. NUMBER 6

CONFESSION, DIVORCE, AND THE STRONG V. STRONG TRIAL Colleague Barbara Weisberg. Weisbergrecounts Mary's confession of her affair and pregnancy to Peter. Although divorce was taboo in their social circle, Petereventually sues to claim full custody of their daughters, asserting his patriarchal rights. The resulting "Strong v. Strong" trial becomes a sensational public spectacle covered daily by newspapers. NUMBER 7

Her Affair Basically Died After I Spread The Photos Around The ClubBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

I Found Out About Her Affair Through A Baby MonitorBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

She Couldn't Get Out Of Her Affair Playing Out On The Big ScreenBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/true-cheating-wives-and-girlfriends-stories-2025-true-cheating-stories-podcast--5689182/support.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 2 Life in hob-along mode. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When she woke the next morning, Zach was standing next to the bed with a pain pill and a glass of water. "Terry's gonna be here in about half an hour. I could make you some breakfast?" he said, putting the pill and the water into her hand. Honey shook her head, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'd; I'd like to take a shower before I go; if that's okay," she asked. "Right; uh; I'll just set it up for you. I'll get your things together after you're done in there; if you still want to go, that is; Honey closed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to look at the silent pleading in his face. When the shower was ready, Zach carried her down the stairs and set her down in his large walk-in shower on the bathing chair he'd set up for her. "I, uh; I warmed up the water. The; soap and shampoo stuff is right here," he said, gesturing to a collection of bottles put down within her reach. "If you need anything, I'll be right; right here," he said, sitting down on the toilet, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Honey nodded and took off her nightgown and panties, putting them on the floor outside the shower. She leaned down and began unwrapping the velcro the straps on her boot, finding that she couldn't reach the last one. She opened her mouth to ask for help, but Zach was already sliding the door open to undo it for her. When he disassembled the boot around her foot and lifted it away, a slight whimper escaped her when the motion bumped her ankle slightly. Zach's eyes flashed to hers as she tried to cover herself with her arms, "I'm okay," she whispered. Clenching his jaw, Zach nodded, stood and left the stall. The water felt like heaven after the sad sponge baths she had given herself in bed. Her skin came alive in the heat and flushed a deep pink. "Is that too hot? You're getting red," Zach said, standing next to the door looking concerned. "No; it's perfect," she sighed. She twisted around to reach the shampoo and tipped it over, groaning as she watched it roll out of reach. Zach reached into the stall and returned it to her, growling in annoyance as he watched her try to squeeze some out with only one fully functional arm. Soon, he stepped into the shower with her, clad only in his underwear. "I don't know how you think you're going to do this by yourself; he grumbled, glaring at her as he massaged the shampoo into her long hair. "I'll figure it out; put a folding chair in the tub or something," she said, trying not to notice that the fabric of his underwear was leaving nothing to the imagination the wetter it got. "A fucking folding chair will slip. I'll send this one with you. You still can't reach shit, though." "I haven't done this before. I'll get better as I go." "Yeah, but until then, you'll; Look, you need to give me a call when you; so that I know you're okay." "You wouldn't be able to hear me talk; the water makes this growling noise," she said. "Well, why the fu; never mind. You call me before and after. No longer than 10 minutes, or I send Terry." "And he just does whatever you tell him? You're really kinda bossy." "Glad we sorted that out. Put your head back." With a smirk, Honey leaned back, letting him support her with his arm as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. After one minute, Zach began swearing under his breath. "I've been rinsing this shit out of your hair forever and there's still more! How the fuck is this possible?" Honey began giggling, despite the pain it caused her shoulder. "I guess you should allow me longer than 10 minutes to shower, then; she murmured. "Ten fucking minutes, or I send Terry." "Do you have any conditioner?" "Any what?" "Never mind," Honey said, trying to control her face. When he finally released her from being rinsed, Honey grabbed the loofa and put some body wash on it, washing what she could reach with her right arm while Zach glared down at her. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grated, roughly taking the fluffy sponge from her and then washing her with surprising gentleness. When he delicately supported and washed her broken ankle, he waited until he finished before looking up at her, "Remember, doctor says you can take off your boot for a while now and then, so that should help with the smell. I'll pack the extra sock so you can put a clean one on and wash the; well, just how the fuck are you going to do the laundry?" he asked, as if she created the concept of dirty laundry just to bother him. "Hand wash?" she suggested. "That won't work for these boot socks! They smell like gangrene or some shi;" "Well, now you're just flirting; she said, smiling up at him. For a moment Zach's face went completely blank, his eyes slowly traveling down her naked body as his face turned bright red, then he turned away and cursed under his breath again. "Grab onto my arm and I'll finish you up," he said, clenching his jaw and holding out his forearm to her, as he diligently looked away. Cautiously, she took his arm and tried to stand, rising wobbly on her left leg. Before she could gain her balance, her hand slipped on his wet arm and he pulled her tightly against him before she could fall. Body to body, they clung on to each other in the hot spray, each of them shaking. "Honey; you may notta noticed, but I'm hanging on by a fucking thread, here," Zach said quietly in her ear, "Try not to get yourself killed for two seconds." Honey nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist so that he could move his arms again. She felt him move the loofah between her legs and begin washing her private area, looking around the shower stall as he did. When Honey cringed and her breath hissed between her teeth, he stopped, "What's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her face. "It's; rough; she said, quietly. "Yeah, but it was fine when; oh; right; sensitive. Okay; he said, swallowing as he tossed the loofah aside and hesitantly reached his fingers between her legs. Honey leaned her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes, gasping when his fingers made contact. "Is that; is that okay?" he asked. She nodded and tried to move her legs further apart for him. Zach gently washed her, trying to think of sports scores, laxative commercials, or the accounts payable at the club, but inevitably his cock noticed that he was holding the woman of his dreams naked in his arms. When she shifted against him, trying to keep her balance, a breathy grunt escaped him as she inadvertently rubbed against him. "I'm sorry; she whispered, trying to give him more room. "Don't be; you're perfect; it's fine; he said, trying to think about anything but how it would feel to slide his cock between her slippery lips right at that moment. "Let me just get the; water; he gritted, reaching for the shower sprayer and directing it between her legs. Honey gasped and whimpered as the water pulsed against her clit, down her labia and over her anus again and again, feeling Zach's eyes on her as he did it, intensely absorbing her every reaction. She trembled as she held on to him, trying to remain calm. Finally, she raised her eyes up to him and opened her wet lips and whispered, "Zach; ?" "Hey, how do you guys want your eggs?" Terry asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Get The Fuck Out Of Here, Maggot!" Zach roared, as Honey squealed and released him, quickly ducking down to where Terry couldn't see her on the shower chair. "Scrambled, it is," Terry said, ducking out of the bathroom and leaving them alone again. Zach watched Honey begin to shiver as the room cooled off and handed her a towel. "Let me know when you're dry and I'll wrap up your leg again," he said, looking around the bathroom uncomfortably before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off his wet underwear from underneath. After securing her ankle in the air cast, Zach carried her back up to the bedroom, turned his back to her, and blocked Terry's kitchen view of the loft as Honey dressed. When she finished, Zach turned around again, his mouth hardening into a grim line when he saw she had put on her elf dress again. "You're; going, then," he said, frowning as he watched her wince at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to tie the thick red ribbon belt behind her back. He stepped behind her and took the belt out of her hands and began brusquely tying it. "I want you to stay," he said to the back of her head, tugging the loops into a tight knot. Honey hobbled around to face him, "Enough to tell me why you wanted to send that message to someone?" she asked him, her dark blue eyes somber. "You; you wouldn't want to stay if I did," he murmured, stroking the soft velvet covering her arms. "Then, I guess I should go," she said, looking away before she could start crying again. "Wow, nice apartment!" Terry said, following Honey inside her apartment with the bag of her clothes. "The blood stains really bring the room together; "Say what you will, it's all mine," she said, hobbling over to the sofa and curling up, exhausted. "Here's your mail. I gotta text Zach, he's going nuts; well, more than usual, anyway," he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. "Arrived at hellhole; Angel has typhoid; the tweakers give their love; send food stamps," he said aloud, typing into his phone as Honey went through her mail. "Let me go set up the bath chair; just the thing to class up the joint," he said, disappearing to the bathroom. When Terry returned, he found Honey white as a sheet, reading a letter. "Whoa, kid; you okay? Need a pain pill? Let me take you back to Zach's. You look like you really do have typhoid; he said, kneeling down next to her. "Um; yeah, I'm fine," she said faintly, then cleared her throat. "Would; would you mind taking that laptop with you when you go deliver the charity gifts to the firm? They; asked me to send it back; probably upgrading; she said, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks. Terry watched her for a long moment, his face grim, and don't mention it to Zach?" he finished. "Um; probably not?" Honey choked. "Ah, Honey; you have hospital bills. This is where a sensible person starts telling themself, 'Hey self, maybe I should go back to that really great guy that wants to take care of me," Terry said, closing her laptop and wrapping the power cord around it. "If he's such a great guy, why does he send people messages like this?" she asked, holding up the screenshot to him. After staring at the screen for a while, Terry let out a low whistle, "Now, see, Zach just puts it right out there. You gotta respect that. No wonder he got so much ass. He send this to you?" "He said he meant to send it to someone else, but what are you talking about? He sent this to me on our first date when he went to the restroom! I thought he wanted to kill me!" Terry canted his head and looked at the screenshot again, "Oh; yeah, I could see that. Especially if you got it without the dick pic," he said, nodding sympathetically. "No, see, this was sort of a sex S O S, if you will. A guy goes out with a girl like you, it's like a high-wire act. He gets all wound up, needs to blow off some steam, sends out a flare hoping someone can help him take the edge off things so you don't find out what a high-strung, rough sex freak he is. You're a big deal. He just didn't want to scare you off, Angel," Terry explained. "He; he wanted to go have sex with someone else after our date??" Honey yelled, incensed. "Only because he *liked* you so much!" Terry argued, winsomely. Just then, Honey's phone rang in his hand and he tapped the screen, "Honey's phone!" he answered. "Don't Ever Talk To Me Again!" Honey yelled at her phone when she saw it was Zach's number. "Ah yeah?" Terry said, holding the phone to his ear. "Yeah. Right. Be right over," he said, disconnecting the call and handing the phone back to Honey. "What did he say?" Honey asked, grinding her teeth. Terry leaned over and flipped her phone back to the screenshot that had frightened her so much, "Yeah; pretty much that; just without the sex. See you when I get out of the hospital, kid," he sighed. During the next week, Honey took a bus to the city hall offices and applied for unemployment, used the library computers to send out her resume and read her email, and got no calls whatsoever from Zach. Gatsby's, however, started having trouble with their delivery service and three meals a day were accidentally delivered to her disreputable apartment. When she called Gatsby's about it, she was assured they were working on it and were sure to fix the delivery service problem; as soon as they got a delivery service. The following week, Honey got a knock at her door. Promising herself she would open the door only for the pleasure of slamming it shut in the visitor's stupid, handsome face, Honey hobbled up and looked through the peep hole. It wasn't who she expected, though. "Um, hi; she said, opening the door a bit and tightening her robe. "Hi Honey, I'm Jeff. You probably don't remember;" "I remember you," Honey said, opening the door wider. "Please come in." "Thank you," he said, coming in and standing with his coat over his arm as she hobbled back to the couch. "Jeff, I always wanted to call Gatsby's and thank you; you know, for what you did," Honey said. "For the 'angel shot.' I didn't realize I was on a date with the owner, at the time. I hope it didn't make trouble for you," she said. "You're kidding, right? He fired me on the spot," Jeff laughed. "Oh no; she said, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry." "No, it's okay. He hired me back as a manager a couple weeks ago. Said anyone who had the balls to do what it took to protect you, even from him, that was someone he wanted taking care of his customers. Actually said that, looking back, if you had been scared enough to ask someone for help back then and they *didn't* help you, well, he'd probably want to go find them and; and; well, the details don't matter, and they're probably illegal, anyway. The point is, we're good." "Oh, that's; that's good to hear. Is this about the delivery service problem, then?" "We don't have a delivery service." "Well, yeah, I know. I mean the meals that Zach is making you send me." "Um; I'm probably going to get my life threatened for telling you this, but we're not sending you meals. Zach's popping in and out with a lot of takeout boxes under his arm, but Gatsby's isn't sending you any meals, Honey. That's; that's all Zach." "Oh; Honey said, her cheeks warming. "Yeah, no I came to ask if you'd be interested in a job." Honey laughed, "I appreciate it, but don't think I'd make much of a waitress right now." "Actually, I kinda had something else in mind; Honey's heart pounded as the music swelled and she felt the platform descend, her legs dangling down clad in candy cane striped stockings and curled-toe shoes. Her dress was the same pink velvet and white fur trim costume as before, but the fabric was far more luscious and expensive than the dress she'd worn in the mall. It had arrived at her door with a seamstress tasked with making it fit flawlessly. Honey's eyes were closed out of habit, getting ready to sing for the clientele of the great room as Gatsby's "Elf on a Shelf." She knew he was out there. He always came out of hiding when she sang. A smile curled across her face as she felt the spotlight warm her body. She opened her eyes. After the show, Honey stripped off her tights and a stage hand gave her the air cast as soon as the platform had risen out of sight. Gingerly, she eased her leg back into the boot and began strapping herself in again. As she reached the last fastener, two large hands took the straps out of hers and began wrapping them expertly. Honey blushed and looked aside as Zach did it, and tried not to roll her eyes when he checked the other two straps to be sure she had secured them properly. His eyes wandered over her with nervous adoration, like he still couldn't quite convince himself she was real; even after the mundane work of feeding her, dressing her, and cleaning her all those days up in his loft. "Did you like the show?" she asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. Zach sighed with relief, having received tacit permission to speak to her again. "Yes," he said. "Did you really like it?" she asked, her eyes twinkling, her smile growing bigger. "I really; really liked it," Zach said, nodding and pulling at the collar of the dress shirt that was having trouble containing him. He seemed to have only grown larger in their weeks apart. "So much that you want to go have rough sex with somebody else tonight?" she asked, her large and deceptively innocent, twinkling eyes skewering him. Zach's mouth set, "I; I don't do that anymore. I exercise," he said quietly, reddening and looking away from her. "Oh; I see," Honey said, nodding. Ignoring the hands he offered her, Honey rolled herself onto her good knee and clumsily pushed herself back up into a standing position, her skirt flashing him as she rose. "What the fuck is that?" Zach yelled, pulling her skirt up to where a large purpling bruise was blooming on her hip. Honey bit her lips and forced her face to stop grinning before she turned and faced him again. "What's what?" she asked innocently. "What the hell do you think? That fucking huge purple ass-shiner you're walking around with! Where the fuck did that come from?" he roared. "Oh, that? I slipped. You know, it's icy out there; she said brightly, patting his chest and hobbling past him to her dressing room. Zach clenched his hands and followed her, growling things under his breath that would make a sailor blush. She wobbled into the dressing room, leaving the door open behind her, wondering if he would follow her in. He didn't, but instead stood there in the doorway glowering at her like a gargoyle as she pulled some clothes out of a large Gatsby's takeout bag. Honey's ribs were beginning to hurt from trying not to laugh. Honey breath hissed through her teeth as she reached behind her, fumbling with the knot of her wide red ribbon belt, her shoulder still healing from the dislocation. Before long, she heard muttered curses and large feet stomp into the room and push her hands aside, untying the belt for her. She smiled her thanks up at him over her shoulder, and moved her hair aside so he could help her with the zipper. Carefully, he smoothed some more of her hairs aside and slowly lowered the clasp. "So, um; how would it have worked?" she asked quietly, the softness of her voice making him lean in to hear her. Zach cleared his throat, "How would what have worked?" he asked, his breath falling warm on her neck as he tried to unclasp the tiny hook at top of the dress with his large fingers. "If we'd gotten together that night; if I'd never got that message," she said. Zach closed his eyes and shook his head. "I would've taken you home. Maybe tried for a kiss at your door, if you looked like you wanted it," he said, his voice hoarse. "Cheek or lips?" she asked. He sighed, "Who am I kidding? I would've passed out from not breathing by the time I got that close." "And those; other things; would you have wanted to do those things to me? To hurt me; to scare me?" she asked, her voice shaking. Zach turned her to look her in the eye, and she wrapped her arms around herself, keeping the unzipped, loose elf dress from falling down. "No Honey," he swore, shaking his head emphatically, cupping her face and holding her tightly. "God no. Never. Never ever. I would've never let you see that side of me. I'd give it up. I gave it up. I'd go run ten miles before I even;" his impassioned vows were interrupted by a loud crack as a delicate hand slapped him across the face. "How dare you?" Honey said, trembling with fury before she winced and cradled her hand to her chest as Zach blinked slowly in disbelief, trying to process what had happened. "That's for deciding you'd just have a boring, unsatisfied sex life with me without even asking what I wanted, you; you overbearing ass! That's for offering only a part of yourself to me! That's for ruining our beautiful date because you were ashamed of the man I lo;" Honey's uncharacteristic rage was interrupted by Zach's mouth descending on hers and claiming it furiously, pressing her against the wall as her dress fell to the floor. The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began, and Zach pulled away from her, his face a twitching, terrifying storm as he stared down at her. He wrapped his hand around the slender wrist of her only functional arm and pressed it to the wall over her head. "You don't hit me like that; ever," he said quietly, breathing hard through flared nostrils. Honey trembled, staring up into his blazing eyes almost panting against him in terror; but also in something else. The corner of Zach's mouth curled when he saw her deep blue eyes dilate hugely, a heady, familiar scent rising up between them. "You don't fucking hit anyone like that; goddamn amateur. You wanna break your wrist? Jesus Christ. Get your ass dressed and I'll take you home, you little freak," he growled, turning around to give her privacy and hide the huge smile he couldn't stop from covering his face. When Honey came up panting for air, she was pressed against the wall of Zach's loft as he fumbled with the locks of his door with one hand. She was making good progress at getting his shirt off, but it kept bunching up around his arms, and the cuffs were still a problem she didn't even want to think about. Even so, she was blissfully occupied with the acres of warm bare skin and muscle that she had excavated. "This isn't my home; she said, looking around bewildered, "why does everyone get my address wrong?" "Probably because they've blocked it out after seeing your place. Shut up and tell me what you want," Zach said, carrying her over to the stairs until he saw a bit of her lower lip he needed to bite and had to take a break to do it properly. "Look, don't give me names, because then I'd have to kill 'em, but tell me what makes you hot, Honey; we're gonna do all of it and more. I'm making your dreams come true, tonight," he said, winding his hand in her hair as she dropped her head back to give him her neck. "Oh! Um; I liked it when;" "No names," he reminded her, covering her mouth. "Right; well, this one guy, he um; he wore a towel around his waist and bent over his dresser to look for his underwear? And this other time, he held this spoon out to me and I opened my mouth and he fed me. And; and; um; in the shower, he; he held me against him in the water and;" "Honey, are all these stories gonna be about me?" "Um; yeah?" "That's sweet of you, tryin' to keep me outta jail and all, but I need you to get to the part about cock and pussy. Stories about me aren't gonna help that. Cock, pussy, tongue, ass, tits, ears, neck, taint - what do you like?" he asked "Right; uh; I liked it when you washed me down there; my pussy; with your fingers?" Honey said, at a loss. Zach drew his head back from her neck and looked at her, his face growing uneasy. "Honey?" "And when you sprayed the water back and forth down there, especially the top bump part, that really made me feel amazing, kind of squirmy, you know?" "Oh Jesus; he said, looking as if he'd been hit in the head. "And um; I know I wasn't supposed to look, but your um; you know; p-penis; in the shower, when your underwear got wet? That was" "I don't feel so good; he said, lowering himself to the floor and sitting down on the stairs. "No, no, it's fine. We can do this. What's a taint and what do I do with it?" she asked, sitting down and cuddling up next to him. Zach held his head in his hands, "You're a virgin; not like an "everything but" Evangelical, but like an alien or something. I don't know if I can do this." "Look, I know how to have sex; I had health class, for Pete's sake!" she said, slapping his shoulder. "What the fuck did I just get myself into?" he said through his hands. Honey pulled his hands down from his face and climbed up in his lap, putting his arms around her and looping her arms around his neck. "Zach; I have been a very good girl; not just this year, but for a long, long time. I figure that makes it so I can ask for something really big. So, here's what I want: I want you and me; just being together. Not planned or rehearsed or trying to be impressive. You already impress me. You're the best person I know. You took care of me when you hated me. You took care of me, even when I hated you. I just want to see what it's like if we let go of all that and just; you know; love. Will you give me that for Christmas, Santa? Please?" she asked, leaning in and kissing his cheek softly. "I've; never done that before," he said stiffly, looking sideways at her, unable to turn his head. "I'll be gentle with you," she whispered, smiling and brushing her lips against his. Climbing down from his lap, she took his hand in hers and led him up the stairs; until he lost patience with her hobbling and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the top. Honey smiled as he gently lowered her feet to the floor, then took his hand and worked on the buttons of his cuff, "You're really big, but you don't do that big guy thing where you act like nothing matters. You notice everything; I like that," she said, glancing up at him. Zach frowned, watching her and then looking around the room, uncomfortable. "That's just; you gotta do that. You can't just throw your weight around without knowing where it's going. You're gonna hurt someone that way," he demurred, unbuttoning the cuff for her and tugging the other loose, as well. "You give a lot, but you're not a show-off about it; you didn't even let me know it wasn't Gatsby's sending food to me," she said, pulling his shirt down off his shoulders, pressing her face into his back to smell him. "You needed protein, calcium, and vitamin D to build those bones again -- that ramen shit you eat wasn't gonna give you enough of anything; just empty carbs and fuckin' sodium," he argued, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at her. Honey smiled and nodded, unbuckling his belt and slowly pulling it out of the loops. Zach swallowed, "You; you also needed vitamins C and K, so I made sure you got things like broccoli and fish and citrus; not; not everybody knows that," he said, drawing a shaky breath. "I didn't know that," she said, separating the hook and eye of his trousers and unzipping them, smiling when he cleared his throat and breathed faster as she lowered them. "You're smart, but you don't need everyone to know about it. You watch how people treat you when they think you're simple, instead; you want to know who they really are." Zach pulled his legs out of his trousers and laid them carefully over the chair, glancing over to the closet where he really wanted to put them instead. Honey smirked and turned to go get a hanger for him, and he swept her down onto the bed instead, going to get the hanger for himself and carefully hanging his pants to avoid any creases. Zach returned to the bed, standing in front of her knees where she sat, waiting. Honey moved her hands curiously over his hips and thighs, feeling the strength, the hours of toil and exertion he put them through; so that he could have control and be gentle when he needed to be. "You care about what I want; she said, swallowing and slowly sliding his underwear down his hips, gasping in surprise when his cock bounced out and waved at her. "You care about it even when you think I'm wrong; and it makes me love you so much; she said, trailing off and blushing. "You; got my clothes off," he said, looking down at her, his face a mix of bewilderment and wonder. "I guess you see all of me, now," he said, blushing for the first time since she'd known him. Smiling, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside. She winced, reaching back trying to un-do her bra, and instead of helping her as usual, Zach narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. "You do that on purpose, don't you? Doing shit that hurts right in front of me instead of asking me for help. Showing off that fucking bruise to me at the club. Showing me what happens when I can't take care of you; you actually get off on driving me crazy," he said in outraged realization. "You really want to do that rough sex stuff on me, now, don't you," Honey said, her eyes alive with mischief. "Like you wouldn't believe; he said, flipping her over, straddling her back and unclasping her bra. Honey squealed and giggled when he laid himself out over her back, careful to avoid her shoulder and ankle. "You feel that cock, all hard and ready on your panties and between your legs down there? You don't get him now, brat," he growled, pushing her hair aside and biting the back of her neck. "Not until you beg me." "Okay! Please?" she asked, giggling. Zach looked over at her, trying to hold a stern face, "Yeah, that's not how this works. The way this works is, I make you want it so much that you think you're going out of your mind, and *then* you beg me." "Okay!" she chirped. "Oh, fucking hell; he grumbled, trying not to laugh. He nipped all over her back, enjoying her squeaks and gasps, wiggling under him as her need grew. She seemed completely unaware of how she was responding to him, but he proudly basked in her every flutter. He kissed down to the small of her back, hearing her breath stop and then resume at a pant when he began to lower her panties. "Zach; Zach; Honey whimpered. "Yes, Honey?" he smiled, kissing the top of the crease of her bottom, flicking it slightly with his tongue. "Does it; does it always go this slow?" she asked, raising her bottom to him and moaning when he slid his fingers through her crack, making her jump and then grab onto his thigh. "Are you in a hurry?" he murmured, stroking his fingers leisurely around her clit and into her vagina, "Some other pressing; engagement?" he asked, pressing his finger against her hymen and laughing evilly at her shocked, yet needful, reaction. "Yeah; it would feel good to have a hot deep cock in there, wouldn't it?" he asked, thrusting gently into her with his finger. "Zach; Honey moaned, squirming under him. "I like that word 'engagement; '" Zach mused idly, "don't you?" he asked, raising one of her knees up to her side, sliding his cock along her crack, wetting it until it glistened in her juices. "Zach, please; please; please; she gasped, feeling him rise up over her again, pressing against her entry, "I need you; she whispered. "I need you, too, Honey. I've needed you for so long; he answered, parting her lips and moving into her with slow, gentle thrusts. Honey trembled under him, holding her breath, feeling him fill her more and more, until with a slight sharp pain, she took him into her. "Oh; oh; oh; oh; she whimpered. "Just breathe, Honey. You're doing great; perfect. I'm not moving till you're ready," Zach said, reaching deep for control. A sheen of sweat broke over him at the sheer effort of holding himself back from plunging furiously into her body again and again and again. "Is; is this the rough sex part?" she breathed, reaching out to touch the hand he was using to keep most of his weight off her. Zach barked out a breathless laugh, clasping her hand in his, "I don't know about you, but this is about as rough as I can take it, tonight. You're fucking killing me, right now. But, being inside you; it's like magic." Honey moved her head and kissed his forearm, "Be inside me again, Zach; she whispered. With a low sigh, he began moving inside her, his hips pressing and rolling against her, his cock stroking a patient rhythm. She sighed with happiness, feeling him explore and claim her at the same time. His lips moved over her neck and back as he leisurely took her, whispering praise and encouragements, waiting for her to adjust to him. Before long, though, his words stopped, his body growing harder around her, his every muscle stiffening as he gripped her hand harder, his thrusts quickening until, with a soft, surprised grunt, he thrust deep and shook as he emptied himself inside her. With explosive breaths, he rolled off her, pulling her against him in the bed. "Well, fuck; he said in disgust between gasps. "Yeah; Honey said, snuggling back against him happily, "that was perfect; Zach snorted, "No it wasn't, you noob. You didn't come. I fucked it up." "What do you mean? What makes you think I didn't come? That felt great! Let's do that all the time," Honey said, turning in his arms so she could smile at him. "I would've felt it if you came, Honey; it gets tight and squeezes you, almost like it's sucking on you; drinking you down; he said, smiling down at her with rueful affection. "Well, I don't know how it's supposed to get any tighter than that was. I think you're expecting too much of me. Maybe I did come; she argued. "Honey, trust me; when I make you come, you'll know about it," he said, reaching down and caressing her clit with his fingers. "Oh, that's nice; you did that in the shower," Honey cooed, moving her boot up over his hips so he could reach her more easily. "I didn't fucking do this to you in the shower. I fucking washed you. I was a fucking gentleman. People cut diamonds with less fucking focus than I had in that fucking shower. I was just taking care of business, then," he grumbled, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. "I guess; I guess, I took advantage of you, then; s-sorry; oh; she said, raising her hips to him as her breathing became irregular, her head tossing from side to side. "Well, unless I'm wrong, you are about to really pay for it in 3, 2, 1" Zach said, when Honey screamed high and long, her hips bucking as she came hard, covering his hand in her sweet nectar and then bursting into tears. Zach held her close as Honey wailed in pain, stroking her body gently, "Yeah; see, that boot can do a lot, but it can't do squat about it when every muscle in your body wants to stiffen up as you come," he said, still soothing her. Honey slapped his shoulder, "That; that was mean! Don't you ever make me come again!" she panted against him, her face still twisted in slowly receding pain. "Uh huh; Zach said, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "we'll see how long that lasts, you little freak," he said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss her tears away.  To be continued in part 3, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

You can enjoy exclusive and intense erotic audio by grabbing your copy of the Sensual Awakenings App on the Apple Store,or downloading the very unofficial and unapproved Android version from WyldeInBed.com Jane had always lived a 'normal life' until in desperation she responds to an online advert for an artists muse.She now finds herself on a tropical island, with money in the bank, and not a clue what is expected of her by the mysterious artist she has never even spoken to.What will she had to do to earn the money that is already in her account?In Island of Desires, disillusioned and yearning for more, Jane stumbles upon a mysterious advertisement promising an escape from her mundane life. The ad's allure is irresistible: a secluded desert island, far from the prying eyes of civilization, where one can truly discover themselves.Her curiosity piqued, Jane takes a leap of faith and soon finds herself stranded with a stranger whose intentions are as enigmatic as the island itself.The novel hinges on the tantalizing premise of exploring one's deepest creative urges and desires in an isolated paradise.Jane's journey begins with uncertainty but quickly transforms into a sensuous adventure as she and her mysterious companion delve into uncharted territories of intimacy and sexuality. With each passing day, the island becomes more than just a backdrop; it turns into a canvas for their passions and a crucible for their relationship.Every touch, every glance evokes a symphony of sensations, painting a vivid picture of their exotic surroundings.The salty breeze, the warm sand underfoot, the lush greenery—all become intertwined with their burgeoning romance. As they shed their inhibitions, they discover new facets of themselves, and the line between reality and fantasy blurs in the shimmering heat of the island sun.Jane's initial trepidation gives way to bold exploration as she learns to trust her instincts and embrace the unknown. The stranger, equally captivated by the raw beauty of their environment and Emma's unbridled spirit, reveals secrets that deepen their connection.Together, they create a world where sensuality reigns supreme, and every moment is charged with possibility.Island of Desires is a novel that beckons the adventurous spirit in all of us. It's a story of sensuality, discovery, and the intoxicating thrill of stepping into the unknown.The unique blend of an exotic locale, a mysterious companion, and the exploration of creative and carnal urges makes it an unforgettable read.Don't miss your chance to be swept away by this intoxicating tale of desire and discovery.Enjoy Island of Desires today and embark on a journey that will leave you breathless.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Episode SummaryIn this festive installment, the hosts shake off their "Wild Turkey" hangovers and travel back to 19571111. After a deep dive into the historical and cultural shifts of the late 1950s—from the launch of Sputnik to the debut of Leave it to Beaver—the discussion turns to the workplace classic Desk Set. The hosts explore the legendary chemistry of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, the timeless fear of being replaced by automation, and the chaotic charm of mid-century office Christmas parties.Timeline & Key Highlights00:00 – Holiday Survival: Banter about surviving Thanksgiving dinner, Aunt Gloria's attire, and the mysterious "Cooter Jack".03:04 – Destination 1957: A historical snapshot of the year, including the Space Age kickoff, school integration in Little Rock, and the birth of icons like Spike Lee and Gloria Estefan5.06:13 – 1957 Nightlife: A look at what was playing in theaters, including The Bridge on the River Kwai, 12 Angry Men, and An Affair to Remember6.08:11 – Feature Presentation: Desk Set (1957): The hosts introduce the story of Bunny Watson, a library reference clerk whose department is threatened by a massive new computer called EMERAC.15:00 – Identity & Intellectual Equality: A deep dive into Bunny Watson's character—a powerful woman in 1957 who holds her own intellectually against Richard Sumner.41:13 – The Office Christmas Party & The "Pink Slip" Incident: Discussing the film's iconic party scene and the spectactular computer malfunction that accidentally fires everyone in the building, including the company president.01:10:00 – Human Ingenuity Wins: How Bunny saves the day with a simple bobby pin, proving that human insight remains essential even as technology advances.01:37:52 – Festive Bonus Recommendations: Quick takes on other holiday watches, including It Happened One Christmas and the 1995 female Scrooge film, Ebbie.Featured Film: Desk Set (1957)The Stars: Katharine Hepburn as Bunny Watson and Spencer Tracy as Richard Sumner (their eighth film together).The Conflict: Man vs. Machine. The installation of "EMERAC" (the big brain) triggers rumors of mass layoffs.The Legacy: A commentary on gender roles and technological disruption that remains relevant in the modern era of AI and automation.Closing Thoughts"Be kind, rewind." The hosts encourage listeners to share their own favorite holiday movies as they head into the new year.

0:00 Intro 0:07 Affair child 3:18 Agreement 7:43 Food budget 10:58 Money Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode of True Crime News The Sidebar Podcast: Gene Rossi joins host Joshua Ritter to break down the biggest cases making headlines across the nation. They discuss the tragic deaths of Rob and Michele Reiner as their son Nick faces murder charges, Brian Walshe's conviction for the murder and dismemberment of his wife Ana, and Sherrone Moore's arrest following the coach's termination from the University of Michigan. Tweet your questions for future episodes to Joshua Ritter using the hashtag #TCNSidebar. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The verdict is in: Brian Walshe has been found guilty of first-degree murder in the death of his wife, Anna Walshe. This week on Zone 7, Sheryl McCollum is joined by Dani, creator and host of Dani After Dark. The two revisit the Brian Walshe trial, where months of evidence, emotion, and courtroom drama culminated in a single word: guilty. From the disturbing Google searches to the cash-only shopping trips for bleach, buckets, and a hacksaw, the jury weighed the evidence alongside the confession that Walshe dismembered his wife and disposed of her remains. Dani shares what she witnessed inside the courtroom, from the jurors’ reactions to the moment that sealed the case. Then she and Sheryl break down the digital evidence, behavioral patterns, and courtroom strategy that secured a first-degree murder conviction. Highlights: • (0:00) Sheryl opens with a summary of the Ana Walshe case, outlining the timeline and the accusations against her husband, Brian Walshe before welcoming Dani from Dani After Dark back to Zone 7 • (1:45) What Brian Walshe admitted before trial and what the jury did not hear • (3:15) Brian’s Google searches that dismantled the “sudden death” defense • (6:15) Cash-only shopping trips and the evidence captured on camera • (7:45) The moment the jury watched Walshe’s six-year-old son help him check out at Lowe’s • (13:30) Affair allegations and the life-insurance policy • (16:30) Body language inside the courtroom: Brian Walshe and his mother • (19:00) Why the defense never called on a psychologist, how that decision cost them, and the collapse during closing arguments • (22:45) Verdict day: Guilty of murder and justice for Ana Walshe • (23:45) Final reflections on the events that led to the first-degree murder conviction Guest Bio: Dani is the creator and host of Dani After Dark, a true-crime and legal analysis channel on YouTube where she covers high-profile criminal trials in real time. Connect with Dani on Instagram @dani_after_dark or follow her on YouTube at @DaniAfterDark. Enjoying Zone 7? Leave a rating and review where you listen to podcasts. Your feedback helps others find the show and supports the mission to educate, engage, and inspire. Sheryl “Mac” McCollum is an active crime scene investigator for a Metro Atlanta Police Department and the director of the Cold Case Investigative Research Institute, which partners with colleges and universities nationwide. With more than 4 decades of experience, she has worked on thousands of cold cases using her investigative system, The Last 24/361, which integrates evidence, media, and advanced forensic testing. Her work on high-profile cases, including The Boston Strangler, Natalie Holloway, Tupac Shakur and the Moore’s Ford Bridge lynching, led to her Emmy Award for CSI: Atlanta and induction into the National Law Enforcement Hall of Fame in 2023. Social Links: • Email: coldcase2004@gmail.com • Twitter: @ColdCaseTips • Facebook: @sheryl.mccollum • Instagram: @officialzone7podcast Preorder Sheryl’s upcoming book, Swans Don’t Swim in a Sewer: Lessons in Life, Justice, and Joy from a Forensic Scientist, releasing May 2026 from Simon and Schuster. https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Swans-Dont-Swim-in-a-Sewer/Sheryl-Mac-McCollum/9798895652824 See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Constance grew up believing she shared the same father as her siblings, though she always sensed something was off. Decades later, an AncestryDNA test and unexpected messages from strangers unraveled the truth—leading her to her biological father living just 20 minutes away. Their emotional first meeting, the highs and lows of building a relationship at midlife, and Constance's journey toward grace, understanding, and identity make this a deeply meaningful NPE story.Constance can be reached via email constancethenpe@gmail.comNPE Stories PatreonNPE Stories facebook pagehttps://www.facebook.com/NPEstories

0:00 Intro 0:06 My chair 2:07 Kids 3:54 Affair partner 8:33 Swallowed 9:38 Not my problem Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices