Okay, I've got a really dark confession to make.

I... hate the holidays!

Okay, not hate. But I'm super conflicted. I mean, the food's great. Who doesn't want turkey, or yams, or pies? God, I love pies. Warm, wet, and sticky, what could be better? And decorating! That's my superpower. With mere printed paper and rusted scissors, I'll forge a blizzard of handmade snowflakes that will bring literal tears to your eyes. A winter wonderland up in here! My friends adore my attention to detail. Maybe. I don't care. They're getting full-on hand-stitched sweaters whether they want it or not.  So sure, yeah, I guess I live for the odd Christmas tradition.

But there's also the visit—every torturous moment after I leave my tiny little bungalow in the big city. Then it's over the mountains, and through the woods, to my Grandmother's house, I go. It should be my mother's. She built that house. My mother moved halfway across the country, married a Union Man, bought a home, and had me. She did that in large part to escape Nanna.

But then, when I was twelve, she invited that covetous old sinner to live with us. The rainbow lights came down, and the crosses went up. Christmas was a time for prayer, reflection, and nonstop constant judgment.  Home became Nanna's den.

Her welcome was everything I'd come to expect.

"No friend? Are the boys in town pickier? I've mentioned if you want to attract a man, don't dress like a child."

I look down at the Christmas sweater I'd made. The pinnacle of cozy, and I love it. Also, frankly, it slays on me. Sure, it has a silly winking cartoon moose (Morris), but it hugs my breasts and falls off my shoulders with tight Frosty leggings that show off my gym visits. It's a classic "I didn't mean to make you hot" holiday ensemble.

"With that figure, you need all the help you can get," Nanna sighs, wistfully gazing at the mantle. "You didn't inherit my genes, sadly."

Photos of my grandmother dominate the space above the fireplace. Not family shots, mind you, solo portraits of her. She was cute back then in the fifties kinda way, but her eyes still echoed like the abyss, even in black and white. My mother, on the other hand, was beautiful. I can see a small gathering of photos behind the chair where Nanna won't see them. Raven black hair, porcelain pale skin, and full curves to match her fuller smile. It's eerie how much I take after my mom. The only part of Dad I got was his sense of humor.

And his hatred for this old biddy.

"I forgot my toothbrush," I say.  

I expect a fight cause let's be honest; it was a stupid excuse.

"Well, if you're going out. I've got something you could pick up for me."

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This pickup for Nan was going to take no time. I had the check in my hands for a 600-dollar set of knives she was never going to use. But Lord help the soul who tried to touch her things. Seconds in her presence, and I was my sixteen-year-old self—the old tension across my chest and blurred edges of my vision. I hate this town. Mom wouldn't be back for at least another two hours. So here I am at 323 Redberry Lane where-

Holy fiddlesticks. I know this house. I babysat here. They had the hostess cakes I wasn't allowed to eat at home and always had extra.

Also, the dad was hot as heck.

"Ring a ding," I say, pressing the bell.

There's a mild crashing sound as I imagine someone running to the door. I wonder if it's little Andy who I used to push into the pool. God, that was years ago. I wonder what he looks like now.

The door swings open with far more force than necessary. In frame stands a six-foot-three freckled red-haired goofball with arms thicker than the fence post. His muscular chest strains the tight tee shirt as he catches his breath. No doubt he ran from the video game blaring in the next room."Hey, sorry about that. Can I help?"

"Oh my god! Andy!" I smile up at him. "It's me! I'm here to pick up my Nana's knives. Look at you! Gotten so tall."

"Ms. Crenshaw," he blinks slowly, and his smile fades into a panic. " Duh, yeah, sorry, uhh- your grandma said you'd probably drop by tomorrow."

He's mortified cause I'm early. That's so cute. Clearly, Andy's been looking forward to this. He tries to hide the stains on his Deadpool t-shirt and shifts into his ripped, faded, blue denim.  He's dressed exactly like the sweet little geek who used to follow me- except that it's now stretched across a linebacker's body. 

"Don't you dare call me Ms. Crenshaw, or I'll call you itty bitty Andy." I let my eyes trace the breadth of him. A blush creeps in under those freckles.

"Uh, sorry... Sarah. Your Grandma's knives are in the closet. I gotta dig 'em out." 

"Well, are you going to invite me in so I can wait?" Knowing I found a way to kill the next two hours and disappoint my therapist all at the same time.

 ...........................................................................................

Alright, so he's young. But not Lifetime Original series, young cause he graduated from high school last year. Really it's a five-year difference, so we're fine. He leaps over the table, going for the boxes stacked in the closet. The legs rise to meet his tight, sculpted behind. He nervously yacks while digging through the various knife collections, his shoulders flexing visibly across the room. Finally, he lifts my Nanna's knife set over his head like a trophy. I'm snuggled into the huge leather armchair, my snowman legs framing my body. I've bundled Morris the Moose in my hands, pulling the sweater down, exposing more of my shoulder, and giving him a direct view of my breasts cupped in teal blue. He keeps trying to hide his peeking.

"So... ahhh... here it is," he says, bringing it down on the table in front of me. "It's the most expensive set we got. Who's it for?"

"Her," I say, laughing, throwing my head back. "Only the best for Nana."

"Right... so... I bet you gotta run home," his neck is straining.

"Trying to get rid of me." My lips pout. "You angry with me?"

"Angry?"

"For sending you to bed all those times. I bet you thought I was a mean old biddy. Probably told all your friends how much you hated me."

"No!" He's genuinely shocked. "I... well..."

"Here I am, taking up all your time when your girlfriend is probably coming over."

"She's... uh... not around right now."

"She left you all alone. That's dangerous, isn't it?"

"Dangerous?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't. Who knows what kinda trouble you could start? Do you get into trouble, Andy?"

"Sometimes," he laughs.

"Is that why you're trying to throw me out of the house? You got another girl coming over, and you don't want witnesses."

"No, no one’s coming. I'm all alone for the day." Instinct is guiding him because the boy can't believe what he is hearing. 

"Who’s going to take care of you?"

"Take care of-

"Do you want me to go?"

"No."

"You've got a little crush, right Andy,"

"A crush."

"Maybe a big one?"

I take one of his hands and place it against my cheek. His palm envelops the side of my face; his coarse skin gives me goosebumps as his fingers caress my hair.

"The biggest," he whispers.

"Is it really?" I place his other hand over my shirt. He squeezes harder than he means, and I let out a little whimper. He takes the fabric between his fingers.

"Where did you get this? I like the moose."

"Handmade." I grin. "Take it off."

He pulls, and I laugh. The tension in my head that ache across my chest starts to pulse. I'd sworn to stop this nonsense when I moved out— constant random sex with willing men. Not the right way to deal with self-esteem issues, but heck, Nanna's voice brought it all back. Hometown habits are irresistible.

"Holy shit," he says as I unclasp my bra. "Holy shit. Holy shit. I've imagined those -"

"Stop fantasizing, Andy, and make some memories." I hook my thumbs into the elastic of my wintery leggings. I push down slightly, letting him see the lettering tattooed on my inner thigh and the top of my sapphire lace underwear.

"I'm A.J. now," he says and grabs my legs and pulls. I cry out as I'm dragged. My head and shoulders press against the seat of the chair. My torso and legs are suspended as he pulls my shoes off my feet. Gotta say I'm a little surprised, though I shouldn't be. He's a big boy now, but in my head, I could still wrestle and tickle him till he begged me to stop.

Ohhh, Maybe I can get him to repay the favor?    

He starts reaching for my pants when I squirm and shake my head.

"Gotta be fair, A.J." I grip my breasts and bring them together so that he can salivate over the view. I leave enough space between the knuckles for my nipples to peek through. "I wanna show."

He lowers me gently, and I adjust. Sprawling as I throw one leg over the giant armrest, turn on my side, and pose like a goddess. He pulls from the bottom of his shirt, using all that core as he throws the fabric aside. I slide my fingers into my pussy, feeling the elastic of my panties against my wrist and the heat from my core. He sees me. Eye's widen as my fingers pick up speed.

"I'm... waiting... itty bitty Ann-dwee," circling my clit twice for each syllable. "You worth it?"

His face hardens with his childhood name—the muscles tightening in his shoulders: that look, that intense, furious desire, a determination to match his childhood bravado. His massive chest expands as he breaths, and trembling hands pop open his blue jeans. He doesn't slip out gracefully, but I stopped watching his pants after they went down a few inches. Okay. Little more than a few. Tighty whites may not be right for sperm count, but man, can they outline a dick.

That's when the healthy self-possessed, sweet young professional I've spent the last four years crafting evaporated.

"I'm gonna make you beg, A.J.," I coo as my fingers push deeper. "You're gonna cum so fucking hard you'll be scrapping jizz off this ceiling for weeks."

"What the fuck," A.J. says.

"Let me see it," I answer. "Don't tease me; I wanna coat your cock in my juices and lick my taste off you."

It's already straining to get out, so I decided to give him a better view. I pushed down the legging so he could see my soaked panties and fingers. He removes the last restraint.

It springs up—a smooth thick piece with red curls at the base. No freckles here, though, just flesh. But cocks also blush, and his pale skin is now a dark burgundy with the intensity of his erection.

"Gotten so fucking big, A.J." I'm losing it. "Rub that shit for me." 

My enthusiasm fuels the deliciously painful electric current emanating from snowflake-painted fingertips strumming my clit. I adjust, sitting up for a better view. I'm fighting the biological imperative to close my eyes and focus on short-circuiting. My legs tremble as the moment builds.

"Turn around," I say, my throat dry. "I wanna inspect. Make sure you can tear this pussy up."

He does, and I see the cords of muscles defining his back. His ass looks sculpted, and legs resemble iron. He'll be able to pound me like a pickup truck.   

"Look at me," my voice catches for the first time.

He does, but my eyes are almost closed cause I'm so fucking close. I can only see his abs and the tip of his cock now covered in precum.

"Keep jacking it," I mutter. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes, Ms. Crenshaw. It's great."

"When was the first time you jacked off thinking about me? Do you remember?" I'm squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. He's an outline now, but I can see his shape bent and hear the fierceness with which he's pounding. 

"Fuck yeah. Seventeenth birthday party-

"Basically a man-"

"Pool party, and they invited you."

"What was I wearing-"

"This tiny pink bikini-"

"I remember that one. Never really fit, did it?-"

"Nah-"

"Did it pop off?"

"No, but I could see everything. So, I followed you-

"You dirty little boy. You revolting little pervert-

"The water dripped off you-"

"Where did you do it?"

"The bathroom. I ran in there and pulled it out."

"Already hard!"

"God, yes!"

"Picturing me...like this? Pussy out… fingers in-"

"Mmmm-"

"With me about to cum-"

"Ahhh..."

"Cum all over me, A.J. Fucking drench me."

"What-"

"Now!"

I'd finally made it. The first waves of pleasure ran through every inch of skin. My eyes locked, and I felt my breath return. Then warm sticky liquid hit my chest. I opened a single eye and saw him there, halfway across the room, falling to one knee. Good range. It was like the thinker statue, except instead of holding his chin, it was his rapidly deflating cock.

"You're fucking disgusting," I say as I rub his spunk over my breasts and neck. "Dirty little boy can't hold his load?"

He stands up. The sweat gives him an extra shine. I pull my index finger from inside me, dip it in Andy's gift, and suck our cum from my finger.

"Eat your vegetables, A.J.," I say. "And I'll sneak you a cookie."

He moves over and pulls the leggings off. It's only a moment before I see his red hair clash against both the leather chair and my dark pubes.

"Little higher, champ," I say, grabbing his thick auburn locks and gently pulling. "But not right on there. Go around. I'm still a little sensitive."

Little Andy's definitely not a virgin, and boy, is he eager to please. Fast quick licks around my nub start to bring me to the edge again. I push against his face letting him know to move it. I imagine his face covered in my moisture when I cum over his lips.  

"Good boy," I say, lifting my behind from the leather. "That's great. You're a fucking king. Grab my ass-"

He does.

"Go to town. Eat it up. Lap that pussy. Make me scream, you fucking child! There. Don't stop. Faster, you fuck. Faster or I'll- yeah- that's right. Right! Yes!"

I cum in his hands and pull him deeper so he can taste my convulsions. He almost drops me, but whatever sport he does has helped those reflexes.

"Fuck, A.J.,” I say, letting him pull away. "What are they teaching at Chester High nowadays?"

 "This is part of my extracurriculars." he laughs.

Good, he's getting over the wonder of it. Now we can have fun.

"Well, you're close to an excellent recommendation. I just gotta see if you can drive stick shift," his lower body is still hidden from me. "Your engine back up yet?"

The smirk is strange on his face, but it works for him.

"Rearing," and he stands and does not prove himself a liar.

"You know what's weird about growing up," he says, taking my hands and pulling. I'm catapulted up and smack against his granite body. My breasts compress against his chest. One hand cups my ass.

"You used to be taller than me," the other hand snakes around and grips my upper leg. "Now you're so small I could lift you up."

He does, and I wrap my legs around his waist, giggle and throw my head back. My back arches pushing the girls into his face where his lips gratefully start to kiss. Its slobbery trails burn my skin. The little numbs on each of my breasts are so erect they feel like knives. I wonder if he remembers he's licking his own cum. Who cares.

"You're a tit guy, right, A.J.?" I say as he sucks an inch below my collarbone. "A nice juicy rack will have you gushing in a second, yeah?"

"So weird," he says as his lips move to my neck.

"What?" My anxiety kicks in for a second.

"I never pegged you for all this dirty talk. You never swore before."

I chuckle and whisper into his ear.

"I also never let you lick my cunt until it sprayed down your throat, did I?"

He shivers.

"This is our little secret, A.J. Now get to work, and I'll show you how filthy your fifth-grade babysitter always was."  

He brings me down on his erection, and I slip right over it. Hard as a rocket, and the heat blasts through me.

"Fucking hell," I curse. "Your dick could split me in half!"

I feel him brace so we can stay here. He'd been so patient, so I let him stand tall while I bring myself up and down. My chest bounces in front of his grateful eyes. My soaking wet pussy drips over his steel cock. Every thrust tenses his muscles as I bring us closer to danger.

"Andy, did you always have this monster?! I'd have let you fuck me years ago. Jesus Christ! You feel so good. Why'd I wait? I'm going to suck it dry next. Let you face-fuck Ms. Crenshaw until she swallows your load. How's that sound? Sound good? I'll stick a finger up your ass while jizz pours out my mouth? But you gotta work for it, schoolboy. Make me cum, you fucker. Tear this pussy up! Own it! Pound it! Come on, Andy, make me scream!

He picks up speed.

"That's it, A.J. Fuck! Spank my ass! Ha! That's it! Shit, you're strong. Little faster. You've almost got me there. Only a few more- That's it! Sweet Hell! Ass-licking-mother-fucking-cock-sucking-Jesus-christ- that's... oh Fuck!

We collapse back on the chair. He's got just enough strength to slow the fall.

"God," he whispers into my cleavage.

"That's sweet," I say and pat him on the back. "Time to get up."

I slowly roll him onto his back. He tries to grab me, but I step over him and slip on my Frosty the Snowman leggings, clasp my bra, and throw Morris the Moose over my body in less than a minute.

"Did you see my sneakers?" I ask. "Oh, fiddlesticks. You threw them over there."  

"I'll help," he vaguely stirs.

"Nah, I'm good. Rest up, cowboy; you did a whole little rodeo."

"Fucking hell," he says, throwing his arm over his head.

"Watch the language," I snap, tying my laces. "I'm a lady."

His confusion is delightful.

"Well, I gotta go. Mom'll be home soon. And I'm feeling much more in the holiday spirit."

"I'll bring out your knives," he says.

"Why? Didn't you say you were expecting me tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he blinks.

"Then that's when I'll pick up the knives. Nana shouldn't expect the whole world to bow to her schedule. Will you be alone, round 11:00 in the morning?"

"Sure."

"Awesome. Gotta work up an appetite for lunch. Mom totally overdoes it. You know the whole Italian thing. I won't have a lot of time."

I walk on over to him, putting one leg on each side of his head. Then I lower myself until he's close enough to smell our afternoon. "Open up."

He does, and I stuff my soaked blue panties into his mouth.

"Not a lotta time. So be ready to go, 'kay?"

I wink, walk out the door, and get back into my car. Jingle Bells is playing, and I sing along all the way home.