22. Epilogue
Epilogue
The Night Before Christmas in July (I.e. Duke's Birthday)
[In a tidy, cutely furnished bedroom.]
Viola buttons up her Santa coat over very lacy lingerie.
The last seven months have been the best of my life.
Olivia was looking for a roommate, so I moved in with her; I applied to the Early Childhood Education program and start in September; and the Snowspruce crew, with the addition of Sebastian, hang out all the time.
My life is full and joyous and everything I never dreamed it could be.
I find myself so much happier and playful than I’ve ever been.
It’s noticeable enough that, every now and then, Mal sees a glimpse of me when an acquaintance posts a picture on social media and begs for me to come back.
According to the same acquaintances, he’s unhappy, single, and living in squalor.
Looks like karma had my back after all.
It was with this newfound spirit of joy, that I prepared for Duke’s birthday surprise. I set up my bedroom to be the picture of romance: candles, rose petals, perfumed sheets, baritone music… and a special outfit.
“You can come in now,” I yell to Duke through the door.
Duke bursts through the door, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Oh baby, thank god you called me in. I was about ready to… What are you wearing? ”
The laughter bursts out of me like water through a paper dam.
I’m lying on the bed, posed like a pin-up girl, dressed in my full Santa costume.
“You like?” I breathe in a husky whisper, running my hands over my Santa belly. I’m laughing so hard that I can barely ask the words.
It’s a whole thing now—the laughter. I’ve laughed more in these last couple of months than I have in the last too many years combined.
Except, Duke isn’t laughing.
“Yeah,” he says, taking a step towards me. “I like.”
The laughter stops in my throat. I hadn’t planned for this response. “Y-you like it?”
Duke shrugs my patented shrug. “If it’s you, I like it.” He grins, palming himself and stroking his growing erection. “Besides, I used to jack off constantly to thinking of you like this. It’d be fun to see some of that come to life.” He pauses. “If that’s something you’d be into?”
I shrug coyly before I nod, completely trusting Duke when it comes to my sexual pleasure. Like laughter, I’ve had more orgasms in the past couple of months than I dreamed possible. Duke considers giving me a toe-curling orgasm to be a warm-up—the first in a series of many.
“Are you telling Santa that you’ve been a bad boy?” I ask, not concealing my smile.
Still, Duke doesn’t smile. His eyes are intense, as his fingers unzip his fly. “Baby, I’m going to show you the meaning of naughty.”
Between the look in his eyes and the way he pulls out his hard, long cock to stroke, I suddenly find this all a whole lot less funny. No, now I’m back to getting stupidly wet and squirming in my Santa suit.
Duke’s eyes flick to where I’m pressing my legs together. He smirks, watching me as he continues to stroke his cock.
“So, what do you want?” I ask, my voice breathy and husky.
Duke groans, gripping his cock even harder. He walks right up to the edge of the bed and nods his head for me to get up. “I want to shove my cock so deep down your throat that your beard tickles my balls.”
I crawl to him on the bed. Then, on all fours, I reach up to take his cock from him. Slowly, I pump him. “Whatever you want.”
Without warning, I lean forward and take his cock into my mouth. I suck him in, hard and deep, making sure that he hits the back of my throat, that he’s far enough into me that my beard tickles his balls.
“Fuck,” he groans, stretching out the sound.
It’s not, by any means, the first blow job that I’ve given him, but it feels like it. With every sucking pull and sloppy lick, Duke vibrates, literally shaking with excitement. I hum his favourite Christmas carol as I suck and suck and suck.
“Oh shit,” Duke moans as he starts bucking in my mouth.
I slide my mouth down his cock, letting it pop out of my mouth. “You know,” I say, teasing my tongue over the dripping slit on the head of his cock. “If you were really naughty, you’d be fucking my face instead of making me do all the work.”
“Yeah?” he asks, a warble in his voice.
“Fuck my face, Duke. Hard. ”
And he does. Hands behind my Santa hat, he thrusts deep into my mouth. His cock hits the back of my throat, and his balls slap into my beard. Between his precum and my spit, it’s a wet, dripping face-fucking that has both of us moaning with need.
His thrusts become more and more wild, paired with his familiar pre-coming groan. Just as I think he’s going to explode into my mouth, he pulls back and out.
I’m left gasping with need, even though the only stimulation I’m getting is from the pressure of my legs pushing together around my dripping pussy.
Duke pinches the bridge of his nose as he pulls ragged breaths from inside his very soul.
He holds up a finger. “Not before you, baby.”
I sigh, exasperated. As much as I enjoy his dedication to making me come first, he could probably bend the rules for his birthday. I want him to come first. I want him to be the priority for a change.
“Duke, I want to make you come. I want you to come down my throat and into my beard. I want to live out every last one of the fantasies you had before we got together.”
Duke whines a high-pitched sound. “But you come first.”
For the love of…
“Together then?” I ask. “Is there any of your fantasies where we could come together?”
Duke’s eyes rove over me. There’s spittle running into my beard and my chest is panting with heavy breaths. Duke runs a hand through his hair, looking genuinely torn.
“For fuck’s sake, Duke. It’s not the trolley problem; it’s fucking your girlfriend. Don’t think too hard on it and fucking come inside me.”
His eyes flash with passion. With need. “Stand and bend over the side of the bed,” he snarls, taking a step back from the edge.
Eagerly, I scramble up. When I stand, I go to shimmy out of my Santa suit, but he grabs my wrist. “Can we leave it on?” he whispers, hot into my ear.
I moan. “My, you are a naughty boy,” I murmur as I stretch my arms forward on the bed, pushing my ass against his cock.
“For you, absolutely.”
He slides my pants down. Not all the way down, just enough to gain access to the general region. He slides his fingers down my ass cheek. “I’ve said it before, but you have a spectacular ass.”
His fingers continue to trail down until he reaches my pussy.
With two fingers, he pushes into me. He moans when they slip in easily because of how fucking wet I am.
He curls his fingers into me once, just enough to hit that spot he knows I love.
Then, he takes his fingers out and places his cock at my entrance.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, splaying a hand on my red velvet-jacketed back.
Even though I’m squirming with need for him to fuck and fill me, I can’t help but take the bait. “It’s not Christmas,” I tease.
He leans forward to press a kiss against the back of my head. “Baby,” he whispers against me, “every day with you is Christmas.”
With that, he slides his cock into me, filling me as he straightens himself up to better fuck me.
Merry fucking Christmas to me—today and every day for the rest of our lives.
The lights dim on the happy couple, banging jollily while bent over the bed.
Fin.