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Merry MJ Christmas 2022

Summary

Like always, a collection of oneshots of our amazing King of Pop. Not necessarily about Christmas, but definitely about Michael. Are you ready for the big count down? 🎅🎄

Genre:
Erotica / Romance
Author:
mjjlovebug
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
25
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
18+

Dec. 1st: Taken by surprise

Author’s note:

Michael is not famous in this oneshot.

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“Honey? Have you seen my deodorant?”

I got no reply. As usual, the house was a chaos in the morning before everyone left for school and work. I was always up early to take a shower and make breakfast for everyone, but nobody ever got out of bed in time, didn’t want the food I’d prepared, and made a mess in the kitchen when they made something else, or they searched for things that never were where they put them. And that was exactly why I was searching for my deodorant now. Not because I misplaced it somewhere, but someone either knocked it down on the floor or they had borrowed it without putting it back. And I felt pretty sure who that someone was.

“Chelsea? Did you borrow my deodorant?” I shouted down the hall. My daughter was thirteen and just hit puberty with the force of three nuclear catastrophes, and she often borrowed my things. Or borrowed? It usually ended up with me giving it to her. I was fine with it, though. I just appreciated if she told me beforehand, so I didn’t waste time searching for something I obviously wouldn’t find.

“Chelsea!”

“No, mom! Have you looked in the bathroom?” she yelled back and rushed from the kitchen to her room to get something she’d forgotten.

“Well, duh. I’m in the bathroom now,” I mumbled to myself while I picked up wet towels, dirty boxers, a bra, and a t-shirt from the floor. But no deodorant.

“Honey?” I called out, trying to get my husband’s attention. He came in seconds after, trying to fix his tie and button his shirt simultaneously. It didn’t work very well, so naturally, I helped him.

“Thank you, Amanda. I’ll be back around six,” he murmured and gave me a little kiss. I reached out to remove a crumb from his three-day beard and smiled at him. It made him look hot.

“Tikka Masala today?” I asked, and he thought for a moment and nodded.

“Sounds great. But I really need to go now. Love you.”

“Love you too,” I said to his back when he hurried out of the house to his car. Then my mind went to the rest of the kids.

“Ollie? Are you ready?” I asked my youngest son. He was seven and a bit of a smartass. He’d ended up in trouble more times than I could count, but I still loved him unconditionally.

“Almost!” he replied and ran off to his room.

“Chelsea?”

I heard an annoyed groan behind me as I entered the kitchen.

“If I had a dollar every time you yelled my name...”

“If I had a dollar every time you don’t listen and I have to yell your name,” I snapped back, although with a hint of humor. I earned an eye-roll in return.

“Where’s Michael?” I asked when I didn’t see him. He was my husband’s twenty-five-year-old son from a previous marriage, and he was only living here part time. He’d dragged himself through college and swore that he’d never set his foot in a school yard again. Instead, he traveled around with his band, The Jacksons, all across America.

Since he only was home about half the year, we’d told him it was a waste of money to rent an apartment and instead save money to buy his own place later. He didn’t exactly mind. He was a nice young man who often paid for groceries and other things when needed, and he helped around the house... Well, only when I’d been nagging for a while, but he did do his fair share, anyway.

“He’s off today.”

“Off? Wasn’t he supposed to go on that interview?”

Chelsea sighed and clearly thought I was the most hopeless human in history.

“That was last week, mom. He already got the job.”

“What? Oh, my gosh! We have to celebrate! Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” she mumbled, and I gave her a strict glare.

“He’s not. He already has one job, yet he chose to take another one. You should learn something from him.”

“Whatever. It’s your job to take care of us until we’re eighteen, so until then...”

She made a dismissive twitch with her hand, and I felt a rush of anger bubble up inside me. I knew she was right, but she didn’t have to act like a brat about it.

“I’m supposed to teach you how to be an adult before that,” I grumbled. “So get your ass to school and get an education.”

When she rolled her eyes a second time, I seriously wanted to slap her head. But since that’s frowned upon and I didn’t want CPS knocking at our door, I remained standing in the kitchen while I tried to strangle her with my eyes. Kids can be a handful, but teenagers? That’s a whole different league.

“Five minutes!” I yelled. “You’re gonna be late for the school bus!”

“Mom? Did you see my soccer shoes? There’s a match after school today and...”

“And you only remembered that now?” I cut in. Why was I even surprised? But I was lucky. I actually knew where they were and sent him and his shoes off with a kiss on the cheek and got a hug from Chelsea.

“Love you, mom,” she said and gave me a smile that showed that my little girl was still in there, only covered by makeup and hormones.

“Love you too.”

And with that, the house was empty except for my stepson, who probably would sleep most of the day.

“I honestly don’t understand why I bother,” I mumbled when I started cleaning up the kitchen. I knew it would look the same as soon as they were back, anyway. But since the OCD in me would never allow me to sit down and stare at the mess, I started working myself from the kitchen, through the living room and the hallway where all the shoes and jackets were, until I finished by cleaning the bathroom. The kids were responsible for their own bedrooms, and if they didn’t carry out their laundry, they ended up not having clean clothes.

Well, that was the goal. Unfortunately, another world war started every time I didn’t wash the right clothes in time. Which was about twenty minutes before someone planned to use them.

“Where the heck is that deodorant?” I said to myself. The bathroom was clean, and I still hadn’t found it, and if it wasn’t in Chelsea’s room, then where was it? I suddenly realized that I didn’t search underneath the shower. And because I scrambled with the metallic cover, I didn’t hear the door open up or saw the person behind me. Not until I felt a sharp tug in my hair and a hand that gathered my ponytail in a tight grip.

“Greg? I thought you left. Did you forget something?” I asked, confused. I tried to turn my head to see, but because I was standing on all four between the shower wall and a cabinet, I was pretty much locked in position. Then I felt a hand on my butt cheek, stroking it softly at first, followed by a sharp sting when he spanked me.

“Mmm... So we’re doing role play today?” I said and giggled with growing anticipation. “Did you lock the door? I don’t want Michael to walk in on us.”

The hand went from my ass and up to my hip before it made a journey across my stomach and grabbed my left breast. He squeezed a bit, and I heard an almost inaudible moan before he composed himself with the same hand around my throat. He knew I loved it when he was rough.

“Don’t turn around,” he murmured so lowly it was almost a whisper, and I could feel his lips move against the tip of my ear. I nodded, and he pulled my hair again to tell me he wanted a proper answer.

“Yes, Sir!”

He didn’t reply. He only let out a hushed groan and went back to stroking my ass, squeezing a bit, and spanking it a couple of times more. I purred like a cat in heat when his fingers followed the crevice of my globes and stroked along my folds, and I arched my back in a plea for more when he stopped. Needless to say, I was more than helpful when he pulled down my leggings and panties and spread my butt cheeks.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, and just to tease him, I wiggled my ass. He didn’t say anything more, but I could hear his deep breathing labored with desire. Then he moved a bit, and I could feel the tip of his erection rub up and down my slit. However, it was just to tease me back, because when I tried to make him enter me, he pulled away and spanked me.

“Behave.”

“Yes, Sir,” I smiled and wished I could see his face. He always looked so darn hot when he gave me orders like that. He wasn’t just my handsome husband anymore, but a mature Daddy who made my knees weak. His dark eyes and tousled hair. His high cheekbones and strong jaw that he pushed forward moments before he came. The frown on his forehead that made it seem like he was in pain when it was the exact opposite.

Once again, he rubbed my ass. I was pretty sure they were decorated with pink handprints by now, and that it probably would be painful to sit, but I didn’t mind. Not when I felt his teeth sink into my flesh either, because he peppered the area with butterfly kisses right after. Then he spread my butt cheeks again and licked all the way from the front to the back and let out a low growl. He did it again, and I arched my back to he could reach my clit better. Then I moaned when he sucked it in between his lips like a tiny, juicy grape, and cursed when he continued to torture me with slow strokes and kisses. Until he slipped a finger inside me. Then my world filled with shimmering diamonds.

I moaned his name softly and hummed in appreciation when he added another finger. He didn’t rush. He just kept me lingering and longing for more, and eventually impatience and a desperate need for release made me curse in protest. I rarely cursed, but I needed more. I needed him inside me.

“Greg, please.”

“Shh,” was the only response I got. Until he suddenly changed his mind and positioned himself behind me. And with a firm grip around his shaft, he pushed inside me, fitting every inch until he was balls deep and breathing hard. I could hear him say something through gritted teeth, but it was impossible to understand what it was. Not that it mattered much anyway, because both of us got what we wanted now. Every thrust brought us closer to the upcoming climax that surged through our veins, hay wiring our systems. Every time his hips slapped against my ass, drove me mad. Staying silent was almost impossible.

“M-Michael,” I moaned in staccato, trying to make Greg aware that his son was in his room down the hall. He didn’t care. And when I tried to turn my head, he pulled it back and forced me to stare into the wall, and I ended up squeezing my eyes shut instead.

His speed was intense. The way he filled me was otherworldly, as was the way he kept pushing me higher and higher until it felt like everything he did was about to make me cum. I bit my lip hard, and my lungs stung from holding back my moans. But when I finally tipped over, a tiny one slipped out, anyway. And soon after, Greg followed with stiff jerks and heavy panting.

I expected him to help me up since I was too exhausted to stand, but he only pulled out and spread my lower lips to study the sticky, white river flood out of me and down between my thighs. Then he spanked me one final time and left.

“Greg?” I asked, confused. Then I got a little annoyed. He could snap out of his role now that we were done, and I was about to tell him that. I just had to sort out my shaking limbs and clean myself up.

“Greg!”

A few minutes after, I stomped toward the kitchen, ready to give him an earful. Being rough was okay, but acting like an asshole afterwards was not. I didn’t necessarily mean cuddling, but a brief hug or a kiss would be nice. At least to see him and know that he felt just as good as I did as the weak waves still rolled through our bodies.

“GREG!”

But he wasn’t there. Not in the living room or in his home office, either. I even checked the garage. Nothing. And that’s when it started dawning on me.

“No… That can’t be true,” I mumbled to myself as I walked with firm steps towards his room. It had to be a misunderstanding or a sick daydream. Anything. But the wide smirk on my stepson’s face when I entered without knocking told me what I didn’t want to know. And that’s when my thundering anger cut through the surface, and I walked up to him and slapped his face.

“You sick freak! Did you just fuck me in the bathroom?”

I couldn’t even believe I said those words, much less that they were true. I didn’t even care that it was one of the top ten of sexual encounters in my entire life. Everything about it was wrong.

“Yeah? We’re not related by blood,” he pointed out with a shrug.

“But I’m married to your father! And you just came inside me!”

“And...?”

I couldn’t believe we even had this conversation. This was something that was never supposed to happen. Ever!

“And? Your father’s had a vasectomy and I’m not on the pill! What if I get pregnant? Oh my God, Michael! How could you do this?”

I could see his smirk falter, but he still tried to joke about it.

“But it was good, though.”

“Let’s see how you feel when you explain to your dad that you’ll be the father of your own brother.”

We stared at each other for a good minute before I had to get away from him. And the last thing I heard before I slammed the door after me was:

“Oh, fuck...”

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