© Copyright 2011 - Jo - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; costume; bubblewrap; tape; boxed; transported; mast; oral; climax; cons; X
On the first day of Christmas my husband made of me a gift 'neath the Christmas tree.
"Any time tonight."
I jabbed the intercom button. "Coming."
I checked myself in the bathroom mirror.
Elf slut, definitely elf slut.
I'm wearing red, spike heel ankle booties, red stockings topped with white fur, a green miniskirt so short I can see my candy cane panties, a green midi top, a jaunty Santa cap, and elf ears, pointy elf ears.
In the living room he has the packaging laid out. There's a brown cardboard box, a gift box wrapped in gold foil with its lid propped against it (I notice a small hole in the middle), a roll of ribbon, a large bow, a candy cane and bubble wrap.
I present myself, turning once.
"Nice, very nice."
I make a little curtsy.
There are three overlapping strips of bubble wrap, star shaped, he points at the middle of the star.
"Hug your knees."
He picks up the candy cane and I realize it's a snorkel painted red and white. I open my mouth and he wedges it behind my teeth.
He takes one end of a piece of bubble wrap and draws it over my back and head, down over my knees. Draws the other end over my knees and down my back. There's the scritching sound of the tape dispenser and a bit of tugging as he tapes the wrap in place.
He draws the second strip over my left shoulder and down my right side, up my right side and over my left shoulder. More scritching and tugging.
He repeats the process with the third strip of bubble wrap.
There's pressure on my back. More scritching and tugging as he wraps the tape across my shoulders, across my knees, around my shoulders, working his way down and around my body.
My world is reduced to light and shadow and sound. I can't see him moving around me. I can imagine what is happening.
He cuts a length of bubble wrap, folds it, and presses it into the box. He picks me up and sets me in the box. Pressure builds as he jams in pieces of bubble wrap, packing me tighter and tighter. He folds another piece of wrap and presses it down on top of me. He closes the flaps, presses again. The pressure builds a bit more and my world goes dark. All I can hear is the faint scritching of the tape dispenser as he seals the lid.
I'm upended, kneeling, then almost over onto my head. He slides the gift box over my box, rights me, and places the lid. He lays the candy cane/snorkel on the lid, tips the box this way and that as he works the ribbon around it, fastens the box.
My world tips forward, then back as he slips the hand truck tongue under the box and rocks me back. There's the bump bump bump as he rolls me down the stairs. There's some jostling as he slides the hand truck over the tailgate of his truck. I fetch up with a bump against the back of the cab. He secures the hand truck and me with a couple of tie downs. There's the jarring thud of the tailgate slamming shut, a softer thud of a door closing, the vibration of the engine starting, and we're off.
Over the river and through the woods to brother Rob's house we go.
The trip will take about two hours. I'll have plenty of time alone with my thoughts.
It goes back a long way, back all the way to the womb. Robert and Richard are brothers, twins. This current episode goes back a bit more than a year, more like 18 months I just realized.
Tori was killed, t-boned by some asshole running a red light. Rob was a widower at 27 with two kids, Tami and Rob junior, two and three years old respectively.
We spent weekends with Rob for nearly a year, made the drive down Friday night and back on Sunday. It gave him a bit of a break from being a single parent. The kids loved having Auntie Lu around. I can imagine their delighted squeals on Christmas morning, tomorrow morning. It would have to be tomorrow. We'll be there at about midnight and I can't believe the kids would still be up. Besides, I was the elf slut, Rob's present. Would he unwrap his gift tonight?
The sex had stopped a couple of months back. That's when Rob met Gloria. (Would she be there tomorrow? The way I'm dressed? I hope not.) But for almost a year we fucked, once, maybe twice each weekend.
It started six months after Tori's death. It was too soon for Rob to get emotionally involved with another woman, but Richard decided Rob needed someone in his life, someone who didn't wear diapers. (Okay, sometimes I DO wear diapers, but that's a WHOLE 'nother story.)
Richard began by making himself conspicuously absent. He's not parent material. And being cooped up with two toddlers for 48 hours was a bit of a strain. He began disappearing for a few hours at a time.
"Time to pound the pavement," he'd say. Then he'd tie on his running shoes and head out the door. Or "I think I'll go wet a line." And he'd grab his fishing gear and head down to the river.
I didn't think anything of it, except that it struck me as odd that he'd vacate when the kids were sleeping, either first thing in the morning before they were up or in the afternoon when they were napping. This left Rob and me with hours of quality time. We'd enjoy a leisurely breakfast, dawdle over a third cup of coffee, yack about nothing in particular. In the afternoon, when the kids were in bed, we'd settle on the couch with our books and wine and enjoy some companionable silence. It was nice. I realize now that I was being made available to Rob, available as in sexually. And I'm cool with that, mostly. Richard often made comments about that along the lines of Rob having a woman in his life, someone to make him feel like more than a father, someone to make him feel like a man. And I agreed and hoped Rob would meet someone special. But back then, between us, it was strictly platonic, brother and sister-in-law just hanging out.
All that changed a year and a day after Tori's death.
It was Saturday night. The kids were in bed, the guys were in the workshop. They always had a weekend project, which, truth be told, gave me a respite from being a surrogate mom and maid. Rob came into the den. He said he was going to run to the hardware store before it closed and would I like to tag along. I answered, "Sure." I did think it was a bit odd. I glanced at the clock. It was 9:30. And why drag me along and not Richard? And why take Richard's truck when he has one of this own? All my questions were answered about an hour later.
We spent 15 minutes or so wandering the aisles. I knew something was up because Rob seemed nervous, like he was stalling. He's not much of a talker, but he was downright chatty. He bought a box of screws (Like he didn't already have screws?). We climbed in the truck, but we didn't go straight home.
Rob took the river road and after a bit of bumping along the dirt track he pulled into the parking lot. There were other cars. It was obvious where we were and what was going on in them.
He took my hand. "Lu..."
It was then that the proverbial nickel dropped. I slid over and kissed him. I could slide over because, unlike Rob's truck with its console, Richard's had a bench seat. Oh ho! The answers were coming thick and fast.
We kissed and groped a bit. He had his hand between my legs and I had mine between his. Things proceeded as these things do and soon enough my jeans were unzipped and pulled down and he had a couple of fingers in me. I had his cock out and was stroking it.
He made me come.
The first orgasm felt very, very awkward. The idea of opening myself, feeling very vulnerable, losing control to a man, I mean, someone besides Richard, well, it's not what I expected at all. But come I did, four, maybe five times. Each time feeling a bit less uncomfortable, but I can't say I was totally comfortable with it, not then, not later. I realized I wasn't prepared to go all the way, not just yet. I ducked my head between his legs.
He came almost immediately. I sucked and swallowed and sucked some more, a lot more, until he was hard again, until he came again.
And that was how it started, and pretty much where it stayed. In the morning, Richard would go running, he'd cover his usual ten miles in a bit over an hour, closer to an hour and a half. Or he'd grab his gear and head down to the river. Either way Rob and I had some private time together before the kids got up. It always went the same way. I'd grab the coffee pot and refill his coffee, he'd pull me into his lap, slide his hand under my robe. We'd kiss while he made me come a few times. Then I'd slide off his lap, sink between his knees, and suck him off.
In the afternoon he'd grab me for a quickie, always a quickie. I was glad of that because I still wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with my orgasms. I let him make me come in the morning because that's how things went. But in the afternoon it was wham, bam, thank you ma'am. And I liked it that way.
We didn't fuck all the time. Some days Richard didn't make himself absent. Sometimes Rob didn't take advantage of the situation. But I was available for him, often.
That changed a couple of months back when Rob met Gloria. They're a serious couple, but not that serious yet. She's divorced and Rob, well, you know. She has a kid, a girl, two-ish I think.
So pretty soon I'll be Auntie Lu the elf slut. Rob and I will flirt and play a little ass pat and tickle, but that's as far as it'll go. Probably. I mean, no one has officially called an end to the other stuff. Then again, no one ever officially called a beginning either.
The engine stops. There's a bit of jostling, then the feeling of falling, slowly. A bump over the door sill, followed by a soft thud.
I wait and I wait and wait some more. It finally dawns on me that Rob is not going to unwrap me - not tonight anyway.