It's Christmas
“’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except… the four assholes coming in the rear, in standard two-by-two cover formation.’”
Charlie, lying on his plush sofa, watched as the four hapless S.W.A.T members inadvisably tried to break into the Nakatomi Plaza building – the skyscraper held Alan Rickman and his band of dastardly German terrorists. He loved Christmas, and he loved Die Hard, and he adored watching Die Hard at Christmas. Like so many other discerning ladies and gentlemen around the world, this was somewhat of a holiday tradition for him.
“How’re you watching that movie at this time in the morning?” Valentina asked, walking down into the lounge and standing by the crackling fireplace.
“It’s a classic,” Charlie replied, aggrieved at having Bruce Willis’ seminal work referred to as that movie.
“It’s half eight in the morning.”
“It’s Christmas.”
As shooting erupted on the big sixty-five-inch screen, Val faced her arse to the fire and looked at him. Then she moved away and came and snuggled up to him on the couch. She took the tall glass mug from his hands and took sip of it’s chocolate-coloured contents.
“Jesus!” she said. “You’re drinking already?”
Without looking away from the screen, Charlie said again, “It’s Christmas.”
“What’re you drinking?”
“Irish coffee.”
“Without the coffee?”
“It’s –”
“I know, I know. It’s fucking Christmas.”
Charlie put his arm around her, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the glow of the whisky and the sweet knowledge that no one expected him to write anything for the next two weeks. He kissed her on the top of the head, breathing in the scent of coconut and argan oil.
“This is lovely,” he murmured into her raven hair. “This is Christmas.”
On the screen, a doomed terrorist told an apparently cornered Bruce Willis not to hesitate – shortly before having his kneecaps blown off.
“So romantic,” Val laughed.
Charlie’s hand slid down Val’s side and under her cosy cashmere jumper. Then it moved it’s way casually upwards until it cupped one of her small breasts.
“Goodness me, Valentina,” Charlie muttered, “where the devil is your underwear?”
“I threw them out,” Val purred into his chest. “I’m hoping for some new stuff for Christmas.”
“Hm, that’s rather presumptuous of you, isn’t it? Only good girls get presents, and I’ve never known you to be anything but bad.”
Val pouted. “So bad girls don’t get anything?”
“I believe it’s traditional to get a lump of coal.”
Valentina moved her head down, from Charlie’s chest, onto his firm stomach. Over the past few weeks he’d been making meticulous daily use of their small gym; hitting the weights machines, swimming laps and running a few miles every day. What with eating a thoroughly boring – in his eyes – vegetarian diet with minimal carbs he had found, to his bemused surprised, that he was suddenly in quite good nick – with clearly defined abdominal and chest muscles.
Of course, he hadn’t been able to set foot in the gym without images of what had happened in there at the beginning of autumn flashing into his mind like polaroid snapshots: Sophie eating out the pussy of the personal trainer he’d hired for her, Sophie getting finger-fucked, Sophie making the personal trainer cum by tonguing her arsehole, he and Sophie masturbating together in the sauna afterwards, cumming all over Sophie’s tits.
The mere thought of Valentina’s stepsister sent warm, electricity shooting from his stomach to his balls. He felt his cock start to swell with anticipation. He wondered if Sophie was in the house.
“I don’t have a lump of coal, but how about a lump of something else?” he said quietly to Val.
“If I accept, does that make me a good girl?”
“Could do, could do. Could very well do.”
“And I get presents?”
“If you’re lucky.”
Val reached into his Derek Rose lounge trousers and pulled free his semi-hard prick. Charlie took a gulp of his Irish coffee and watched the movie with unseeing eyes, as Valentina put his cock into her mouth and started to suck on it. Charlie rested his head back on the couch and thought how wonderful life could be. He loved having his dick sucked when it was still half soft, there was something incredibly sensual about feeling himself getting harder and harder in Val’s warm and eager mouth. He tucked her hair behind her ear so that he could watch her work.
Valentina, knowing that Charlie’s eyes were on her, cupped his balls in her hand and took as much of his rapidly swelling member into her mouth as she could. She attempted to stick her tongue out as she swallowed his rod so that she could tongue his ballbag, but his growing erection made it impossible. She gagged and coughed and Charlie moaned.
“You’re extremely bad, Valentina,” he sighed, dreamily.
Val slowly deepthroated his cock again, and again gagged. Then she started to fuck his dick with her mouth, choking slightly every time his penis hit the back of her throat.
Charlie reached down Val’s side, to where her legs were curled up, and pushed his hands into her pyjama trousers. She crooked her legs open as much as she was able to without compromising her dick-sucking position, and Charlie slipped his hand down and started to rub his middle finger and down her slippery slot. She was very wet.
“That’s it, Val,” he whispered. He could feel how slick and slimy his cock was with her spit, and was on the point of suggesting that they make a run for their bedroom before Sophie woke up, when there was a soft cough behind them and the sound of someone setting down a coffee cup on the kitchen bench.
Val froze with Charlie’s dick still down her throat. Slowly, she pulled his saliva-coated penis free and tucked it back into his loungers.
For his part, Charlie slowly rotated his head. Over his shoulder, he could just make out the form of Sophie sitting at the kitchen bench. From where she was sitting she wouldn’t have been able to see anything, but it would’ve been all too obvious what was going on. How Charlie hadn’t heard her come downstairs was a bit of a mystery though. He hadn’t had the volume on the TV turned up that loud, and besides, Sophie usually came stumping half-asleep into the kitchen with the all the finesse and grace as a piano being wheeled down a staircase.
“Hey guys,” she said brightly. “Whatcha doing?”
In Charlie’s lap, Val clandestinely wiped her mouth and chin on the hem of his shirt.
“Just watching a Christmas movie, Soph,” she said. She sat up and stretched, as if they’d been engaged in nothing more interesting than a little festive snuggling.
“Must a be a good fucking movie,” Sophie said.
“It’s a bloody great movie,” Charlie said, taking a nonchalant swig from his rapidly cooling alcoholic coffee.
“They way you were getting into it, it sure looked like it Charlie boy!” Sophie said, flashing him a significant grin.
“Coffee?” Val asked in an attempt to change the subject that wouldn’t have been lost on an infant, her sable hair rather messier on one side than it was on the other.
Sophie held up her half drunk coffee mug in answer.
“Drink?” Charlie offered, waggling his eyebrows.
“At this time?” Sophie said, an impish smile lighting up her features.
“Haven’t you heard?” Valentina said, pulling a bottle of Dom Perignon from out of the fridge. “It’s fucking Christmas, sugar.”
