So, they were going to give this a try.

Carie and Vasily decided they would finally attempt to move beyond their usual pattern of aggravating one another, then indulging in rambunctious, convalescent sex. They had gone through that routine for a few years as neighbours back at their old apartment building. Now that they found themselves as neighbours once again in their new condo building and the forces of the universe seemed to be pushing their two immovable rocks together, they agreed it was a good opportunity to try to move beyond being combative fuck-buddies.

Seriously.

Putting aside any consideration that this could possibly lead to some sort of significant relationship --the notion of being certified girlfriend and boyfriend was still as improbable as The Pope “swiping right” on Stormy Daniels-- the fact that both of them had exhausted their finances to move into their new condos by the lake meant neither was going anywhere anytime soon. They were stuck as across-the-hall neighbours, now. They couldn't very well waste another indeterminate number of years just yelling at, and then fucking, each other.

So this meant spending time together doing normal things, veering away from their tendencies to annoy one another and without rage-sex being the endgame of every abrasive encounter. They were determined to be civil, patient with one another, and just act… normal.

In fact, to their surprise and credit, they had managed not to have an argument in about two months. Of course, this also meant that they hadn't had sex in two months, the last instance being when Vasily moved into Suite 507 across the hall from Carie. It was intended as a cooling-off period, going cold turkey and to reset before forging ahead to their brighter future as civilized neighbours. Despite regarding each other once in a while like two bears in heat coming out of winter hibernation, they successfully navigated past their urges.

As part of their new-normal to be normal, Carie had suggested that the two of them jointly host Thanksgiving dinner in Vasily’s suite. Though he balked at first at the suggestion that he hold the festivities, Carie appealed to his stomach and offered to provide the bulk of the food, including ham and turkey.

“You will cook?” Vasily asked.

Carie quickly noted the grim look in his fuzzy caterpillar brows. She wasn’t exactly a Master Chef candidate unless they had a competition for microwaving frozen food. She patted him on his thick arm, “Oh, don’t worry your big Bolshevik belly. I’ll do take-out."

"Like egg rolls and fortune cookies?"

Carie narrowed her slender dark eyes, peeved. "Can you be more stereotypical? I meant ordering traditional Thanksgiving sides and turkey."

“And ham?”

“Easy. It’s already cooked. I just warm it up in the oven,” Carie said.

“Hmm.” Vasily was obviously skeptical but managed to hold his tongue.

“Come on. It’ll be a good excuse to host some guests together.”

“Guests?”

“I was thinking you could invite your sister, and I’ll ask my cousin Eric and his girlfriend over.”

Vasily frowned. He was always suspicious of Eric but there was a more immediate concern in mind. “His girlfriend is weird,” he remarked flatly.

“Yes, she is,” Carie agreed without hesitation, “but it’ll be okay.”

Despite her reassurance, she would be lying if she didn’t admit that if ever there was a candidate for one of those spaced-out cults, it would be the waifish, doe-eyed Millie. Until she donned one of those white dresses and floral head wreaths and started stuffing chipmunk pelts with chicken innards and crucifying them, though, she was harmless.

“I don’t like your cousin being in same vicinity of my sister,” he muttered.

“Vasily, Eric is not interested in Yana. How many times do I have to tell you that? He has a girlfriend. This is your opportunity to get over it,” she said. Besides, she thought, if anyone was making eyes, it was his sister who regarded Eric like a tasty piece of Chinese Hunan Beef. “Come on. Be a big man about it.”

“I am big man,” he said. Then he affected one of his stiff, goofy smiles and added, “Look, I have big arms.”

“Uh-huh,” Carie smirked with arms crossed as he flexed his rocky biceps like a carny strong man.

“And I have big hands,” he said, flashing his crepe-pan sized palms in front of her face.

“Okay, got it,” she sighed.

“You know what big hands means?” he asked, leaning in grinning.

Carie looked up and away, holding her hand up dismissively. “Yes, I know, Vasily...”

“It means I have big cock,” he concluded, popping his mouth wide as he said “cock”.

Leaning back, she glared at him. “Yeah, you telegraphed that like a drunk snail throwing a punch. Proud of yourself?”

Vasily wobbled his head like a giddy schoolboy before strutting away. “Yes,” he said, “I am proud of my beeeg dick.”

Carie sighed heavily but had to turn away to hide the wrinkled grin on her face. With as much first hand --and mouth and other body parts-- experience with the man-bear’s ample shlong as she had, she couldn’t argue with him, that was for sure.

So with a somewhat mutual agreement reached, when Thanksgiving Day arrived, Vasily was only mildly ruffled when he opened his door and found Carie outside his suite holding a tray covered in tinfoil.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Carie chimed and showed herself in.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Vasily muttered. He checked the hallway then closed the door.

“Should I put this in the kitchen first?” she asked, holding out the tray.

“What is it?”

“The ham.”

Vasily tilted his head aside at her as if looking for something else. “Is that it?” he asked.

“Vasily, you’re not supposed to be ungrateful on Thanksgiving. Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” he said bluntly, then quickly followed with, “Where is rest of food?”

“It’s coming.”

“You are having it delivered?”

Carie grew impatient. “Stop interrogating me like the KGB and take this! It’s heavy.”

Vasily took the tray. Whatever condition the ham was in under the tinfoil, at least it didn’t smell burnt.

“You cooked this?”

“I did,” she proclaimed. She removed the tinfoil to reveal a glowing ham underneath. “Ta-dah!”

Vasily squinted. “It is very shiny.”

It was. The hunk of smoked pork was luminescent, the light reflecting off of its reddish carcass as if it were polished glass.

“Uh-huh. I glazed it,” Carie noted.

“How many times?” he asked. “It is very shiny.”

“Just a couple... maybe a few. But doesn’t it look great?”

“What did you use to make it so shiny?”

Carie shrugged. “Butter, brown sugar... normal ham stuff.”

“Yet, it is so shiny.”

“Vasily! Please stop saying ‘shiny’!”

“But, it is so shi-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Vasi..-” she stopped herself. Part of their truce included her not swearing at him. This was for two reasons. On the one hand, her angry cussing just fueled their arguments to hysterical levels, and on the other, it was a trigger for Vasily’s libido. Said enough times and at the right heated moment, he’d frustration-fuck her straight through the mattress while she goaded him on with even more excessive swearing.

While their fucking was truly glorious, it was also unproductive.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Calmly, she started again, “Look, it’s just a glazed ham. You don’t need to analyze it like a mathematical equation. Just say thank you.”

Vasily nodded. “Thank you,” he said again.

“And smile.”

Smiling more often and being complimentary when someone did something intended to please him was supposed to be one of his peace offerings. Really, all Carie wanted him to do was show more emotional range than the Terminator.

Vasily smiled. It looked like someone had cement-glued his upper and lower teeth together and he was trying to pull them apart.

Carie grimaced. “We’ll practice that.”

For the next thirty minutes, the two of them went about preparing for the arrival of the guests. Vasily worked on setting the table while Carie mixed a few drinks.

Vasily hadn’t gone out of his way to decorate his place, but that was probably for the best. He couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of Thanksgiving, really, and Carie figured it was fortunate she hadn’t entered his apartment to find a slaughtered pig hanging from the ceiling.

Then there was a knock at the door. Vasily peered through the peephole. “It is your cousin,” he said.

“Okay, are we ready?” Carie asked as they stood facing each other by the door.

He pouted his lower lip and shrugged his girder-like shoulders. He sighed heavily, “Sure.”

“Remember to smile,” she said, “and please be polite to them.”

Vasily furrowed his thick brows. “I know to be polite. I am most polite. You do not need to tell me to be polite.”

“Stop saying ‘polite’.” As she adjusted her clothes --a hip-length white sweater over black leggings-- and primped her long dark hair with her fingers, she asked, “How do I look?”

“Not sleazy,” he replied, activating his ‘smile’ at the last moment.

Carie blinked at him, then shrugged. “Whatever. Good enough.”

She considered commenting on his upside-down pumpkin attire --baggy, green athletic pants and an orange polo shirt -- but decided to let it go. At least they looked freshly laundered.

Vasily opened the door.

With a beaming smile, Carie welcomed her cousin and his girlfriend, “Hello! Happy Thanks… woah.”

Eric and Millie stood outside the door loaded down with stuff. Both of her hands clutched a number of shopping bags while his were full as he struggled with an extremely large tray of something that resembled a small hill covered with layers of tinfoil.

“Geez, are we ready for the Zombie Apocalypse, or what?” Carie remarked, her brows peaking in astonishment.

“Millie was excited when you told me to bring the food,” Eric replied, waddling in with the tray. “It gave her an opportunity to try some new recipes. Well, actually, she asked me to cook while she watched.”

Millie was busy handing everything over to Vasily, hanging bag after bag of food on his brawny arms as if he were a store display rack. Rather than perturbed though, the big man looked impressed.

“So, this is how you meant ‘take-out’?” Vasily asked Carie. “Your cousin?”

“Yeah? Why?” she replied as if Eric was serving his purpose upon this earth.

Eric lumbered over to the kitchen counter and heaved the tray upon it.

“Is there a dead body under that?” Carie joked.

“Yes,” Millie replied, her milky, freckled complexion utterly deadpan as she removed her big floppy sun hat.

Vasily and Carie eyed her suspiciously.

“I think she means the turkey is dead,” Eric said and removed the tinfoil to reveal an impressively plump turkey roasted to golden brown perfection.

“Holy crap, that’s gi-normous,” Carie remarked.

"I had to pay for a full-size Uber," Eric joked.

Carie nodded. “Imagine the kids on Sesame Street when they find out you murdered Big Bird."

Vasily silently pushed everyone aside as he approached the impressive fowl. He regarded it with a gleam in his eye that Carie only ever witnessed when either his stocks hit it big or when he saw her in a sheer teddy. Both made him very horny.

“Does this meet your approval?” she asked him.

Vasily shifted his lips, the squelch from the saliva in his mouth clearly audible. He nodded.

“Then what do you say?” Carie spoke like a mother to a little boy after someone gave him a shiny new toy.

He turned toward Eric and flashed a smile that would make a hyena antsy. It unnerved Carie’s cousin so much that he took a step back.

“Thank you,” Vasily said.

A meager squeak rippled Eric’s throat. Finally, he replied, “Um, you’re welcome.”

Carie nudged Eric in the arm and grinned. “Good job,” she said, feeling the relief in her chest. “I think it’s time for a drink!”

She offered Millie and Eric glasses. Both of them inspected their drinks.

“It’s a Thanksgiving Carie-tini,” she declared.

Vasily sighed and rolled his eyes.

“A Carie-tini?” Eric asked.

“I wanted to make something festive for the occasion,” she said.

“It has a neat colour,” Millie remarked, holding up her glass to examine it closely with her wide, green eyes. “It’s like pretty sewer water.”

“Um, yeah. It’s a little murky.” Carie frowned. She had to admit that her cocktails lacked the vibrant colours she had envisioned while mixing them. “It was supposed to remind you of fall colours.”

“It's like after leaves fall off trees and become mouldy on ground,” Vasily remarked.

“Whatever, they taste fine,” Carie said.

Eric and Millie took an initial sip, smacking their lips. While he screwed his lips aside as he considered the taste, she suddenly downed the rest of it in one shot, then held her glass out for more.

Carie’s eyebrows popped up. As she took the glass from her, though, she said, “Thatta girl, Millie.”

“I like trying new things,” Millie replied.

“Oh-h, yeah, she does,” Eric muttered, a twisted expression on his face. He left it at that.

“What is this?” Vasily asked as he peered into one of the larger bags.

Eric turned and nodded. “Millie made a centrepiece. That’s a Horn O’Plenty.”

Vasily frowned. “A whore in panties?” 

“A Horn O’Plenty,” Eric repeated and helped him remove the decoration from the bag and place it on the dining table. The large, ornate, curling cone was adorned with fake leaves, and its opening was stuffed with fruit and mini gourds.

Carie’s face pinched noticeably as she regarded it. “That’s… wow.”

“Millie made it,” Eric said. “She sculpted it out of clay and papier-mache then painted it.”

“It looks... um… ” Carie was struggling for words.

Vasily leaned into her ear and muttered, “It looks like cock and pussy.”

She cringed but couldn’t argue with what he perceived was a decorative piece whose elongated tail sloped upward like a rippling phallus, topped at the end by a bulbous mushroom-shaped dome. And then the front opening with its crinkly lips practically exploding with ripe, plump fruit had a somewhat distinct… vaginal… shape to it.

“I really enjoyed making it,” Millie said with nary a hint of self-awareness.

“I bet you did,” Carie mumbled still struck by the explicitness of it.

“What was that?” Eric asked her, seemingly oblivious to the suggestive design.

“I said she’s very talented,” she replied, mustering a straight-face smile as she looked at him. The cringing sneer returned when she looked back at the horn.

Millie gazed at Vasily as she wrapped her fingers around the tail of the horn, the end of it curving upright. She nonchalantly stroked the shaft methodically up and down. “This was the difficult part,” she explained, “I wanted to make it long, but hard enough so it wouldn’t break.”

Vasily’s jaw was noticeably offset to the left as he stared at her, his eyebrows contorting over his blue eyes. He appeared to be both confused and aroused. “It is…” he paused while watching her continue to pump the tail and rub the tip with her palm, “... very long and very hard. I don’t think it will break. It looks... strong.”

“Really?” Millie asked.

“Yes,” Vasily spoke as if in a trance. He leaned in, his voice deepening, “I think you can try more pressure… and faster.”

“All right! I think we’ve talked enough about Millie’s hand-sculpting skills,” Carie interrupted. While normally she enjoyed seeing the towering, steel-faced Vasily befuddled --especially by a woman-- she just found this to be disturbing. She figured it was probably a good time to move things along.

“Unfortunately, with Eric’s ‘turkey-saurus’ and the rest of the food, we won’t have room for the horn on the table,” she noted. “We’ll have to put it somewhere else. Maybe the coffee table?”

Vasily removed the suggestive ornament and brought it to the living room. Then he helped Millie carry the rest of the bags into the kitchen.

“Hey, Carie,” Eric said as he noted the five place-settings on the table, “who else is joining us?”

“Vasily’s sister, Yana.”

Eric almost choked on his Carie-tini. He sputtered, “Yana? Yana is coming here?”

“Yeah.”

He glanced over at Millie and Vasily who were in the kitchen sorting out the food. It didn’t appear as if either heard them. Pointing towards the balcony, he whispered, “Can I talk to you for a sec? Outside? I need some air.”

“O-okay,” she replied suspiciously.

He led her out onto the balcony and slid the door shut behind them. Fortunately, there was only a slight chill in the October air, and the late afternoon sun warmed the concrete floor beneath Carie’s stocking-covered feet.

Reading Eric’s anxiety, she started first, calming him with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry. Vasily doesn’t know you had been seeing Yana, and now that you’re obviously with Millie, he has no reason to kill you.”

Eric gnawed his upper lip as he paced around the tiny balcony. “Oh good. Good…”

“Good,” Carie mimicked, nodding her head, then slowly shaking it side-to-side. “Because you're not seeing Yana anymore... right, Eric?”

While he hesitated, she looked at his neck. His jugular was noticeably pulsating. Eric’s neck always became red when he was hiding a secret. That’s why she loved playing poker with him.

“O-okay, so you have been seeing her. Fine,” she surmised. “So, like, casually? Just bumped into each other? For coffee? Or tea? Or... borscht?”

Eric chuckled nervously and a line of sweat tracked down from his temple.

“Just talking about the weather? The Leafs? Beyond Beef? Meghan and Harry?” she implored.

It looked as if a nuclear reaction was occurring under his skin.

Carie’s eyes widened. “Oh my God, have you been fucking Yana?!”

Eric’s eyes drifted to the right. “More like that’s what she’s been doing to me…”

“What?!” she exclaimed, bewildered that he couldn’t even say ‘fucking’ while apparently engaging in said activity willy-nilly with Vasily’s sister.

“Shh!” Eric hushed then froze, his sharp, boyish Chinese Idol good looks contorting so drastically it was as if he was undergoing an exorcism.

Carie blinked. She was both shocked and somehow mildly impressed with her cousin whom she always thought as a conservative, reserved guy, not some sex-magnet horndog who could score both a blonde bombshell like Yana and a flaky, but pretty, red-head like Millie. She shook her head and asked, “You’ve been hiding this from Millie?”

“Um…”

“Millie knows?”

An uneasy, anxious grin crept onto his face. “Umm… actually it’s more like Millie was… uhh… Millie was there.”

“Whut?” Carie’s voice dropped an octave, her monosyllabic question landing with a thud. Her chin flopped toward her chest as she glared at Eric in disbelief.

“Millie…” Eric tried to gulp before continuing, “she… she really likes to try different things… and Yana… who knows what she’s already tried before… and Millie kind of liked her… ”

He had nothing else after that other than a meager chuckle.

Carie frowned, allowing everything to sink in slowly like mud through a pinhole just to make absolutely sure she was hearing correctly. “You… Millie… and Yana? At the same time?”

“Well, the first time, Millie just asked Yana to watch…”

“The first time?!”

“To offer tips, sort of?” he said, nodding. “Then, after that, Yana kind of just joined us. You know?”

No, she certainly did not ‘know’. Carie covered her eyes. “Just how many times have you three… menag-ed?”

Eric started to count off his fingers. “Um, you mean like intercourse?”

“No, I mean fucking crocheting!” she snapped, opening her eyes and blasting him with a look of death. She reached up, grabbed his shirt by the collar and shook him. “Yes, intercourse! Sex! Screwing! Getting bumpity! I mean fucking, Eric! Fuhhh-king! Do you need visual aids? Should I demonstrate with Millie’s fucking Horn O’Plenty? How... many... timesss-uhh?!”

Eric wrung his fingers, his whole body one big fidget spinner. “I… um… does that include just being tied up and spitting into each other’s mouths?”

Carie appeared as if she needed a goalie mask due to the number of times she was figuratively being punched in the face at the moment.

He continued, “Because, uh, yeah. Like I said, Millie likes to try different things, and Yana is kind of… creative… and I’m not really sure what counts anymore...” He trailed off meekly, his brain doing virtual flip flops as he spoke nonsense.

Now it was Carie’s turn to pace back and forth on the balcony. All the barriers in her mind that had always prevented her image of Eric slipping down to anything less than an innocent, oblivious lamb were instantly blown asunder. Her cousin was neck-deep in the pit of depravity now as far as she was concerned.

“Do… do you really think Vasily would be upset?” Eric asked.

"Upset? He'd go ballistic," Carie scoffed. “It’s his moronic imperative to protect his little sister like she’s Helen of fucking Troy.”

“Protect her? She’s six-feet tall and can straight up bench press me.”

“Her honour, doofus! He still thinks of her as some pure, pristine angel.”

Eric turned his head aside and mouthed “Wow” to the wind. He asked, “So… it would be bad?”

“Vasily would rip your head off, crush it into a little ball and shove it up your ass, then squeeze the entire you into another little ball, and shove it up a hamster’s ass if he found out.”

“Ow. That's a… small ball.” It appeared that he had gone numb with the dawning realization that he was in a whole heap o’trouble.

Concern pinched at Carie’s tweezered eyebrows. “Christ. She’ll be here any minute.”

“I should leave.”

“You should leave,” she said.

“How do I explain leaving?”

She shook her head. “This is Vasily, okay? You tell him you can’t stay for dinner and all he thinks about as he shuts the door on your ass is that there’s more food for him.”

“Okay. So… you’re not going to tell him?”

“Are you really that much of an idiot?” she replied, sliding open the balcony door.

“Thanks… but you’re going to blackmail me, aren’t you?”

“God, yes,” she declared as she pushed him from behind. “You’re going to be bringing me take-out for the next year.”

As they entered back into Vasily’s suite, Carie called out, “Vasily! Millie! Where are you guys?”

They emerged from the kitchen.

Millie said, “Vasily was fingering my pie.”

“Excuse me?” Carie asked pointedly as she and Eric blinked back and forth between Vasily and Millie who stood side-by-side at the kitchen entry looking unfazed.

“She said to feel her pie,” Vasily explained. “It is very warm and fluffy.”

Carie tried to speak but all that came out was a squeak.

Millie turned back into the kitchen and re-emerged holding a baked pie. “It’s ginger-pumpkin,” she said.

“Oh,” Carie said, “Oh! Ginger-pumpkin pie! For eating! It looks… great. And look at that, the orange colour matches your hair.”

“Thank you,” Millie replied.

“It is so fluffy,” Vasily remarked as if mesmerized, motioning to prod the dessert again with his finger.

“Vasily! Stop that,” she insisted. Jesus, only fifteen minutes since Millie arrived and she was already indoctrinating her next cult member.

Eric chimed in, “Sorry, Vasily. Millie, we need to go.”

Without questioning, Millie put down the pie and went to gather her coat and hat.

Vasily, however, asked, “Why? You just got here.” He looked at Carie. "What did you do?"

"Why do you think I did something to him?"

The Belarusian brute’s head tilted aside, regarding as if she had “obvious” written on her forehead.

“I…” Eric looked at Carie, then said, “I… don’t feel well.”

“What part of you does not feel well?” Vasily asked, appearing prepared to fix whatever the issue was with his bare hands.

Still hesitant, Eric finally said, “My head”, just as Carie answered, “His stomach”.

The trench between Vasily's furry brows deepened.

“Both…” Carie blurted, “... his head and stomach hurt.”

Vasily sighed and shook his head. “It is the Carie-tini.”

“What? No. I’ve had three of them, and I’m perfectly fine,” she scoffed.

“Because you have stomach like iron tank,” Vasily said with a shrug. It was true. Despite being such a petite woman, she could probably drink rocket fuel and not feel a buzz. He nodded at Eric and pointed to the bathroom, “I have antacid and aspirin.”

“Oh… no, it’s okay,” Eric said, “I’m… allergic to those…”

“Allergic?” Vasily frowned. “Then we make you throw up. I can stick my finger…”

“Vasily, just let him go home,” Carie interrupted as Eric took two steps back, panic set in his eyes at. “Besides, it’s more food for you, right? It’s not a problem!”

“You do not send sick man home without dinner,” Vasily insisted. That weird smile of his stretched onto his mouth, and he threw an awkward wink at Carie. “It is called being polite.”

Carie’s eyes twitched at him. Now Vasily decided to take the etiquette high ground? “You call sticking your big fingers down his throat ‘polite’?”

“You do have big fingers,” Millie said as her eyes fixed upon Vasily’s manly digits. “I wonder how they’d feel in tight places?”

Carie was sure that the girl was just trolling her now, but she had bigger Horns O’Plenty to stuff at the moment. A minor commotion ensued with her and Eric insisting he leave and Vasily insisting he stay. All the while, Millie was still scrutinizing Vasily’s fingers.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Carie and Eric froze.

“That is Yana,” Vasily said, heading for the door. He pointed at Eric. “You. Stay.”

It was as if he was giving an order to a puppy, but it was effective.

Carie held her breath.

When Vasily opened the door, his sister, Yana, bounded in and gave him a hug. Carie grimaced, noting that the statuesque woman chose to wear high heels, adding to her already impressive height and effectively making herself feel like a munchkin.

“Hullo! Hullo!” Yana waved excitedly at Carie.

“Hi, Yana,” Carie greeted and then pivoted aside. “You remember Eric from a long time ago? This is his girlfriend, Millie… whom you never met before.”

Yana turned to Eric and Millie and her marble blue eyes widened. She opened her arms to them and said excitedly, “My God! Is you! Hullo!”

Realizing she had to act fast, Carie jumped at Yana and embraced her tightly, burying the side of her face against her ample bosom.

“And it’s you, too! Happy Thanksgiving, Yana!” she hollered as she squeezed her arms around the personal fitness trainer's solid, tight body. God, she nearly poked her eyes out on the woman’s nipples protruding behind her tight sweater.

Yana chuckled, patting her fondly on the back and stroking her long hair. “Oo-wow! Is feels like hugging sweet, little dirt goblin.”

Carie looked up at her. “Um… huh?”

“I think maybe she means a garden gnome?” Eric offered.

That wasn’t much better, but Carie just decided to drop it. Yana’s grasp of English made Vasily seem like Chaucer.

Just as Carie let go of the blonde Amazon, Millie immediately clutched her in another embrace.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Millie chimed. She quickly released the stunned Carie and proceeded to hug Yana, then Eric and finally Vasily, greeting each in kind.

Still giggling, Yana attempted to do the same, hugging her brother again, before turning to Eric with open arms.

In a millisecond, Eric’s eyes flashed towards Vasily, then at Yana, before he stuck his hand out towards her. “Hi. Nice to see you again. It’s been a long time,” he said with a firm, unaffected tone. He winked anxiously at her, tilting his head in a barely perceptible nod at her watchful older brother.

With a big smile revealing her perfect white teeth behind plush red lips, Yana paused, then giggled. She shook his hand and brought her Kabuki-fan sized lashes down with an exaggerated wink. “Okay,” she declared, “is nice meeting you again.”

Carie regarded the three of them --Eric, Millie and Yana-- standing there together. They were an attractive trio for sure, but it still rattled her to think of them engaged in sexual acrobatics together. Just thinking of her cousin having sex, in general, made her shudder.

“What is the matter?” Vasily asked, noting her sour expression.

“Nothing,” she said, waving him off, “maybe it is the Carie-tinis.”

“My God!” Yana exclaimed aloud, causing Carie and Eric to jump a little. “What is that?”

She shuffled over to the coffee table where the Horn O’Plenty had taken up residence.

“Millie’s Plenty Horny,” Vasily said.

“Horn O’Plenty,” Carie sighed.

“Is beautiful!” Yana remarked, kneeling down to have a closer look. As she continued to admire it, of course her hand was compelled to grip the erect tail firmly with her fist. Again, Eric shifted uneasily as she did.

“Is such detail!” Yana went on. She traced her fingertips of her other hand delicately all around the vulva opening and looked up at Millie, “You have much talent!”

“Thank you.” The delicately pale red-head nodded. “You’ve told me that before.”

Noting the quizzical expression on Vasily’s face, Carie interjected, “That was me, Millie. I said you were talented. Remember? Just before Yana arrived. You’ve never met Yana, right?”

“I want to put mouth and tongue all over and eat!” Yana said, still stroking the centrepiece. Then she took a fig, tore it open with her fingernails and ate it with a smile, all the while looking too long and too obviously at Eric.

“Eric!” Carie spoke up again. “Why don’t you give Yana and Millie a tour of the balcony? Vasily and I will get things ready.”

“Why?” Vasily asked. “My sister has been on balcony before.”

Carie’s brain was running on fumes as she struggled for a reply. “We saw whales when we were out there before!”

“You saw whales… in lake?”

“Uh, well... maybe it was just a giant carp or something,” she explained. She nudged and prodded everyone apart. “It’s amazing, whatever the hell it is. Just get out there! Go! Go!”

She pulled Eric aside by the arm and spoke to him in Mandarin, "Explain to her what’s going on and that you don’t want to die. Make sure Millie understands, too."

"Right," Eric replied and ushered the two women onto the balcony.

As soon as the door slid shut, Carie turned around and sighed, “Thank God.”

Vasily stood in front of her like a wall, arms folded and regarding her with disdain. “That was not polite.”

Carie eyed him back. “Vasily, did you really want to continue to watch Millie and your sister give the Horn O’Plenty a handjob? The cherries were about to pop out, for fuck’s sake. They needed to cool off.”

His broad shoulders slumped signalling he was conceding the point to her. She shooed him towards the kitchen. “Let’s get the food out,” she said, then grumbled to herself, “At least kill one of their appetites.”

The bounty of food proved to be a perfect distraction for Vasily, whetting his appetite and propping up his spirits. While he sorted it all out onto various serving dishes, Carie kept close tabs on what was happening out on the balcony. Eric was doing a lot of frantic talking while fending off the playful, preening hands of Yana. Millie stood aside, seemingly taking mental notes as her boyfriend was accosted.

After a few more minutes, Carie finally went over to call them in. “Dinnertime, people.”

Eric looked as if he couldn’t wait to get off the balcony, his mouth contorted into a shape that Carie figured was supposed to be a smile of reassurance. He gave her a thumbs up.

She bemusedly guessed he meant “butt-plug”.

Everyone took their seats at the table. Eric and Millie sat on one side, Yana and Carie opposite to them, and Vasily at the head flanked by Millie and Carie.

It was no overstatement that Eric had brought a tremendous amount of food. Vasily didn’t have a large table, so dinner would have to be in stages. As it was, the appetizers covered the entire tabletop while the mains sat on the kitchen counter. It was obvious Vasily was ready to plough through everything to get to that turkey.

As they were about to start passing around the dishes, Millie suddenly chimed in. “Should someone say a prayer?”

Carie snorted back a laugh before realizing she was serious. “Oh, you mean like grace?”

Millie nodded, an earnest, hopeful look in her eyes.

“Millie’s been reading about Thanksgiving all week,” Eric said with a shrug.

“Oh, well… ” Carie looked at Vasily who offered just a blank stare in return, “none of us here are really religious, I think. Has Auntie taught you any prayers, Eric?”

“Just the ones about going to hell.”

“Maybe someone can just give thanks, then?” Carie suggested.

Millie noted, “Someone pure and innocent.”

“Not Carie,” Vasily remarked.

Carie's pinched lips emitted a “fff” sound before stopping herself. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before addressing the other guests through a strained grin, “Anyone else?”

Yana put up her hand and bounced in her seat. “Oh! I will do!” she volunteered. “What should I say?”

“Just what you’re thankful for. The food, your family and friends,” Millie said, then explained, “Everyone fold their hands and bow their heads.”

Carie and Vasily sighed but complied.

The bubbly Yana cleared her throat. “I am thankful for so much food… ”

“Me, too. We eat now,” Vasily declared and immediately reached for the yams.

“Stop. She’s not done,” Carie scolded.

“I am thankful for big, handsome brother,” Yana continued. “I am thankful for his beautiful, tiny friend.”

Carie’s head dipped deeper towards her lap as she sighed

“I am thankful for beautiful, much talented Millie,” Yana said. Then she raised her eyes toward Eric seated across from her, a slightly wicked angle to her sharp brow. “And I am thankful for very handsome stranger, Eric… who I do not know... but I think he is also much talented man.”

“Okay,” Carie interjected, sensing that Yana wasn’t referring to Eric’s cooking abilities. “I think that covers it. Let’s eat.”

As expected, the appetizers made their way around pretty quickly, mostly at the behest of Vasily. Still, Carie was relieved to notice that the big man, shoveling the food into his mouth with both fists, did appear to really enjoy Eric’s cooking.

“The appetizers are great, Eric,” she said.

Millie and Yana agreed, the former looking proud of her boyfriend while the latter repeated how talented he was, suggestively regarding him while sipping her Carie-tini.

“Vasily,” Carie asked, “how’s the food?”

He sat back in his chair chewing a wad of food and nodding. He eyed Eric.

Carie’s cousin stiffened.

“Good,” Vasily said. “Food is very good. Thank you.”

Carie’s brows peaked. Good God, that sounded genuine. Elated, she held up her glass. “To Eric and good food!”

Everyone held up their glasses of Carie-tinis except Vasily. He scoffed, “I don’t want girlie drink.”

He got up and went to the fridge, returning with a couple of bottles of beer. He walked over to Eric and held a bottle towards him.

Still holding his Carie-tini, Eric appeared momentarily stunned by the offer. Vasily nodded and nudged him with the bottle. When Eric hesitated, he switched on his ‘smile’. It didn’t help.

Mentally, Carie prodded her cousin to take the damn bottle already, and eventually, he cautiously did.

“To good food,” Vasily said and clinked his bottle against Eric’s. After they both took a drink, he slapped him firmly on the shoulder. Eric winced but managed a smile.

They moved onto the main courses, which bumped up Vasily’s good mood another notch. Carie smiled. This was going much better than she thought.

Vasily was determined to place the entire giant turkey on the table. To save space, they agreed to cut the ham and just serve a few slices at a time.

“It is so shiny!” Yana immediately remarked when Vasily raised the tin foil from Carie’s glazed ham.

Carie raised a hand in his smug face. “Just… shut up and slice the ham.”

Vasily attempted to slice into it with a knife.

Clink.

He angled the knife toward it again.

Clink.

Everyone regarded the glossy leg of pork with curious eyes. It was unscathed by the blade.

Vasily tapped it. “Is like marble block.”

“Your head is a marble block,” Carie grumbled. She elbowed him aside and took the knife. “It’s just a bit cold.”

She stabbed at the ham.

Clink.

“How many coats of glaze did you apply?” asked Eric.

“Just… umph!...” Carie grunted as she tried to saw through the ham as if it were protected by a glistening force field, “... just a couple… umph!... maybe four… uhrr!... or five...”

“Glaze?” asked Yana.

“Usually brown sugar and butter,” Eric said.

“Ooh! Like pig lollipop!” Yana exclaimed. “We should all lick!”

Both she and Millie rose from their seats ready to commit cunnilingus on the swine carcass.

“No! Sit down. We are not gang-licking the ham!” Carie insisted, perspiration beading on her forehead.

“Should I get hammer and chisel?” Vasily sighed sarcastically.

“You know what? How about instead of a ‘chee-zil’ we just crack the thing open with your ‘beeeg’ dick!” she snapped, then instantly froze. Feeling flushed, she glanced around. Vasily folded his arms and gave her an accusatory duck-face, Eric offered a sympathetic wince, while Yana giggled and nodded. Millie appeared genuinely intrigued by the idea.

“Oh-kay,” she said. She felt the tension in her knuckles as she released the knife from her grip and set it aside. “Let’s just forget the ham for now. We have more than enough turkey, I think.”

Vasily, fortunately, concurred without further smug reprimand for her outburst as he was more than ready to gorge on the turkey.

The plump bird proved to be the exact opposite of the petrified ham. As Vasily carved and served it, the knife sliced through the tender meat as if it were pudding.

“My God,” Yana exclaimed, “is so juicy!”

Carie nodded. “Yeah, turkey can be so dry, but this one is actually succulent.”

Yana blinked at her, smiling. “Suck…?”

“Succulent,” Carie repeated. “It means moist... tender... tasty...”

“Ahh!” Yana said, sitting back and nodding. “‘Succulent’. I like word! Eric make succulent turkey.”

Carie tilted her head and frowned. “Well, yeah. But you don’t really…”

“Eric’s meat is always succulent,” Millie chimed. “I’ve enjoyed it many times back home. His pork loins are especially succulent.”

“Ooh! I wish to eat Eric’s succulent loins,” Yana declared, indulging in her newly expanded vocabulary. Leaning over with her elbow on the table, propping up her chin in her hand, she nodded at Millie, then smiled at Eric.

Carie gave her hair an agitated rub of her knuckles. In her skull, she was begging them to stop saying ‘succulent’.

“Well, not always succulent,” Eric said, “It can get a little tough and chewy.”

“I have strong teeth,” Yana giggled before gnashing her pearly chompers at him.

“Umm…” Eric said. Suddenly his face froze, twisted, as he stiffened in his chair.

Carie wondered why he looked as if the world had suddenly turned upside down. “What’s the matter?”

"Can you drop your fork?" Eric asked in Mandarin.

“What?” Carie asked.

He spoke carefully, "Drop your fork on the floor and pick it up."

She blinked at him as if he had lost his mind, but nudged her fork off the table anyway. It clattered to the floor. “Oops,” she said exaggeratedly, flaring a look of annoyance his way.

Rolling her eyes, she stooped down in her seat, lifting the table cloth to reach for her fork. It offered her a clear view of Yana’s long, toned leg stretched across beneath the table. Her bare foot was planted between Eric’s thighs, massaging her nimble, painted toes and the ball of her foot against his crotch.

Carie sat right back up, matching her cousin’s widened eyes with her own. "What are you doing?!"

"I’m not the one doing anything!" he exclaimed.

Yana settled in, her elbow still casually propped up on the table. She took a voracious bite of her turkey. “So succulent.”

"Make her stop!" Carie urged.  

"How?" he replied anxiously, then shuddered. He was pretty much useless.

Vasily had just bitten a chunk out of a turkey leg and asked with his mouthful, “Why are you speaking Chinese?”

“We’re just talking about family. Nothing interesting,” Carie said.

“Very not polite,” he scolded with a bit of sing-songy lilt, waggling the leg in her face.

“Oh come on Vasily. Polite? The way you eat looks like a buffet going into a woodchipper.” Carie scoffed, covering up the fact that Vasily was correct. Then she suddenly realized Millie’s attention was squarely on Eric’s lap, though she seemed to be unbothered by what she was seeing.

“Millie!” Carie interrupted. “Would you like a wing or a leg?”

“Foot,” the redhead replied, still gazing aside and down.

Carie chuckled anxiously. “Oh, I don’t think the turkey has any feet. Too bad we’re not at a Chinese restaurant.”

Eric’s eyes looked as if they were going to roll up backwards into his head, but he seemed to be holding on and Vasily hadn’t noticed, so absorbed as he was in masticating the turkey.

“Millie already has turkey on her plate,” Vasily noted.

“Oh, right,” Carie said. Still trying to get Eric’s girlfriend’s attention, she asked, “Millie? How about some stuffing?”

“Yes,” Millie said softly, “I could have a bit of stuffing.”

“Ooh, yes,” Yana piped up, “I want a stuffing, too! I want a stuffing very much!”

Carie’s eye began to twitch. “No. Not a stuffing, the stuffing. In the turkey?”

“How did you stuff turkey?” Vasily asked.

“Well,” Eric started, his voice quivering and his face becoming more and more red as he continued to shift in his seat, “I tried using a pestle to pack it in.”

“What is pestle?” asked Yana.

“It's a heavy shaft of wood, rounded at the end…”

Yana’s red lips suddenly parted into a wide-open smile, and she cocked her brow sharply upward. “You shove shaft into turkey?”

Carie snapped the rest of her Carie-tini down her gullet.

“I helped,” Millie said.

“Of course, you did,” Carie sighed, nearing the point of surrender. She assumed a position similar to Yana: elbows on the table, hand propping up her drooping face. “Please, for all our sake, describe in vivid detail how you helped.”

Millie, her hands on her lap, explained, “I took hold of her legs…”

“Wait. ‘Her’?” Carie asked.

“Millie read that most Thanksgiving turkeys are female,” Eric said.

“I took her legs,” Millie repeated, “then raised them up and spread them apart, wide. Then Eric stuffed her hole with his wood shaft.”

Judging by the extreme variance of their expressions, Carie, Vasily and Yana had three entirely different perspectives on this particular image.

“Actually, the pestle didn’t quite work out,” Eric explained, “so I just used my hand.”

“Beg-your-pardon-excuse-me-the-fuck-what?” Carie blurted.

“Hand?” asked Vasily.

“Oh, wa-ow!” Yana exclaimed excitedly. “You fist turkey!”

“Y-yeah,” Eric croaked then suddenly lurched forward in his chair. Carie figured that Yana’s excitement about him burying his ‘fee-st’ in the turkey caused her to curl her dexterous toes against Eric’s crotch.

Vasily examined the turkey’s cavity then looked at Eric’s hands incredulously. “Whole hand fit?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eric replied.

“But you have such beeeg hands,” Yana said admiringly. The edge of her lips curled upward. “You know is saying for man with beeeg hands?”

“What?” asked Millie eagerly.

“Oh, no,” Carie pleaded, “No. You don’t have to…”

“Man has beeeg penis,” Yana said, holding her hands apart for emphasis.

Carie reached across the table and swiped Eric’s Carie-tini. “Oh, God…”

“Really?” Mille remarked, her eyes blinking wide. She turned to Eric, “Hold up your hand.”

After Eric pried his fingers from the table, he raised his hand unsteadily.

“You do have big hands,” Millie remarked.

“Such beeeg hands,” Yana agreed.

Vasily shrugged. “Not so big,” he said, unimpressed, as he masticated more turkey.

Millie nodded eagerly at him. “Show us your hand.”

He raised his paw. Everyone took a visual measurement.

“Eric is bigger, I am thinking,” Yana declared.

Millie smiled and leaned her arm against Eric. “I know.”

“He is not bigger,” Vasily said, clearly miffed. He leaned forward bringing his hand closer to Eric’s. “Look.”

Carie polished off another Carie-tini and gave him a sly look. “His hand is definitely bigger than yours.”

“Maybe longer,” Vasily said, narrowing his eyes at Eric, “but not as thick… or strong… or having the same stamina.”

Eric nodded quickly. “I am totally prepared to concede tha-ahhh… uhhn?”

Carie frowned at him, spotting the veins pulsing on his neck. He was almost cross-eyed now.

"Now what?" she implored, once again in Mandarin.

"Carie… could… could you drop another fork?" he asked.

She sighed and gave her head a little shake, then let her fork slip through her fingers. “Oops,” she droned.

“Why do you keep dropping utensils?” Vasily asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, sneering at him. “The tryptophan in the turkey is making me sleepy, maybe?”

She stooped down once more… then immediately did a double-take, knocking her head on the underside of the table.

The party games beneath the tablecloth had ramped up with MIllie joining in. There was a reason why she had remained leaning against Eric’s arm. It was so she could slide her hand onto his lap, undo the button and fly of his slacks and slip her fingers underneath his boxer shorts. Carie could see the bulge of Millie’s hand shifting mesmerizingly beneath his clothes, kneading at his crotch.

Meanwhile, Yana continued to masturbate him with her foot (geez, how long was she able to keep her leg up like that?). Digging her foot in with her toes between Eric and his seat, she pushed the top of it back and forth steadily, giving his balls a good ol’shiatsu massage.

Eric melded his ankles together, pushing his heel into the floor in a desperate attempt not to melt off his chair into a jiggly morass of sweat and tears.

Carie grit her teeth hard, stifling a cry of “Holy shit!” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, though she knew the longer she stared, the more fiercely the image would be burned into her mind.

“What are you doing down there?” Vasily grunted.

She saw his hand start to pull up the tablecloth and panicked. She banged her head again, hard on the edge of the table as she quickly shot back up in her seat. “Ow! Shit!”

Rubbing the back of her head, she glared at Vasily, slapping the tabletop with her other hand to get his attention before he looked under the table. She blurted, “There’s nothing going on down there! I’m just getting my fork! What’s your problem?”

Vasily squinted at her. “So where is fork?”

She checked her hands. Empty. “Shit,” she huffed and stooped down again, snatched her fork and held it up in his face.

Vasily let out a low grumble, but then resumed eating.

Carie regarded the other guests. Millie was multitasking, quietly looking at her plate while eating with one hand, the other still hidden discretely underneath the table cloth. Yana, similarly, remained leaning back slightly in her chair, obvious to Carie that she was really entrenching that foot of hers. All the while, she continued to take seductive bites of her meal while burning her blues across the table at Eric.

Eric was mushier than the whipped potatoes at this point. Sweating profusely and making little whimpering and gulping noises every so often, he was barely holding it together under the dual assault. With stuffing shaking off his fork before it reached his mouth, his eyes remained fixed, zombie-like, on a single random point on the table as if he was mentally trying to escape to somewhere like an open, dry desert.

As Carie desperately pondered the rapidly shrinking possibilities of how this would all come to a head, a rattle of metal on the floor startled her. “Shit! What the hell…?”

“I dropped my fork,” Vasily noted, looking at Carie as if her clumsiness was contagious. He started to lean down to pick it up.

Within a half-second, Carie glanced at the others, assessing the situation. They all seemed too absorbed already to react quickly enough if Vasily peeked under the table.

“Wait!” Carie said. “Here, use mine!”

He glared at her fork. “It is dirty.” Again, he started to lean down.

The muscles wrenched hard in her face towards the point between her eyes. The situation was critical, desperate. Thinking fast, she blurted, “Fuck you, Boris!”

That seemed to get the table’s attention. For a moment, nothing but silence and stillness filled the room aside from Carie’s deep breaths and heartbeat swaying her in her chair.

Vasily had stopped in mid-lean and was glaring at her. He grumbled, “Why fuck me?”

She waved the fork in his face. “My fork is dirty? You’re fucking concerned with my saliva?!”

Vasily sat back up, shunting his blocky jaw at her. “What?”

“This from a guy who licks the floor when pasta sauce spills on it,” Carie spat.

“I do not lick floor!” he insisted.

She took another tact. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve had so much more of me than just my spit in your mouth, it would make a dental hygienist wretch!”

Well… she knew that was true.

“Wa-ow!” Yana exclaimed, though she looked like she was settling in to watch a juicy soap opera unfold.

It took a few seconds more for Vasily to unthaw, but then he slowly rumbled, “You are not being polite.”

“Oh, don’t fucking ‘polite’ me, ‘Boris’!” she shouted. “Why don’t you just shovel the food into your mouth with your beeeg hands, or better yet, your beeeg cock!”

Now Millie sat up, an intrigued smile teasing at her small, pink lips.

“What?” Vasily looked as if hammers were being thrown in his face. Confusion quickly gave way to his familiar angry self.

Carie jeered, “What’s the matter? You haven’t fucked for so long you’ve forgotten how to use your dick?”

“I know how to use my cock!” Vasily said, rearranging his defensive priorities on the fly.

“Are you sure?” Carie goaded, “You can practice on the fucking turkey-zilla here. I can hold the legs apart if you want since your dick is so humongous.”

Millie noted, “He’s already eaten one of the legs…”

“I am not wanting to fuck turkey!” Vasily retorted, flabbergasted and annoyed.

“Don’t worry, it’s female, apparently,” Carie nodded at Millie, “so it’ll just be bestiality.”

“I am not fucking turkey,” he repeated. “Your cousin fisted turkey! Yell at him!”

“Technically, it wasn’t a closed fist,” Eric squeaked. No one heard him.

Yana and Millie observed the exchange like they were watching a tennis match, heads turning back and forth, following a figurative ball of innuendo and profanity bounce back and forth between Carie and Vasily.

Eric used the distraction to zip up his pants and push his seat back from the table, out of reach of Yana’s foot.

With her mission accomplished, Carie momentarily considered backing down… but she was too caught up in the momentum of the act of distraction and her burgeoning annoyance from the whole evening. Plus, she had forgotten how fun it was to wind Vasily up like this.

“Here’s an idea,” she said, “you can use Millie’s Horn O’Plenty. You can fuck it and sodomize yourself at the same time.”

Millie sat up suddenly appearing very happy to have brought the centrepiece.

“My cock does not need practice,” Vasily rumbled, “and you know that, too.”

“Oh, really?” Carie folded her arms on the table and leaned toward Vasily with narrowed eyes and a shrug of her shoulders. “How about your mouth? Is it only good at eating turkey.”

Vasily sneered at her. “Mouth is good for eating many things.”

Then, he grabbed a stuffed pepper in his hand and expertly scooped out the filling with his lips, teeth and tongue, leaving the cavity clean and intact. It was an innovative performance that honestly impressed Carie and sent a twinge through her lower gut. To top it off, Vasily stretched his lips apart, affecting his stupid, robotic smile.

“Congratulations,” Carie remarked sarcastically, still not ready to relent, “you can give oral to fucking vegetables.”

“Yeah? What is your mouth good for except to say ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’!” Vasily snapped.

“Why don’t you ask your cock?” she snapped, then stabbed a sausage with her fork and shoved half its length into her mouth, ripping it off with her teeth, causing Eric to shudder. “It’s where you keep your brain, isn’t it?”

Yana laughed, clapping her hands quickly. “Is true!” she giggled.

As Carie chewed, she noticed that Vasily stared at her open mouth filled with meat and her lips glossed by the oil and fat, but not at all out of disgust. She licked her lips slowly, watching his eyes track her tongue.

Barely containing himself, Vasily spoke slowly and carefully, “You... are being very rude.”

“I can be ruder...” Carie said sneering and cocking a provocative brow at him. She sucked the rest of the sausage meat right out of its casing, then added as she chewed, “... And you fucking know that, too.”

She knew “fucking” wasn’t necessary, but it served its purpose. Vasily’s lips slanted aside in a sharp, knowing grin upon hearing her say the magic word like that.

“Maybe... I do need practice?” Vasily suggested.

“Yeah,” Carie said, “and don’t forget to smile when you do.”

While the two of them stared at one another while continuing to slowly eat, it was apparent the others at the table were no longer registering.

“Uh, maybe... we should go?” Eric asked. On top of the surging hormones of the joint hosts, he feared a relapse of the under the table shenanigans if he and the two other women stayed. Millie appeared to be scanning the other dishes for Carie and Vasily to demonstrate with, while Yana was more than capable of pushing her side of the table forward with just pinkyher to get her toes within reach of his crotch again.

It took a bit of effort on his part to get the two women to stand up, but his suggestion that they can have dessert at his place was enough to get them moving.

Carie and Vasily barely seemed to notice. They remained at the table, fixated on each other, as their guests thanked them --Yana kissing them both on the cheek-- and quickly exited his condo.

As the door drew closed, they sat motionlessly, but as soon as it clicked shut, they dove at each other as if a starter pistol had been fired, knocking the table and sending more utensils clattering to the floor. They weren’t going to bother to pick them up.

Vasily hoisted Carie in his arms as their mouths crashed together with a messy, urgent kiss. He turned her back towards the table.

“No, no wait! Not on the table,” she gasped. She was horny as hell but fucking beside or on top of a roasted bird would have been a serious buzzkill.

They took it to the bedroom instead, Vasily launching her slim body onto his bed and slamming the door shut behind him. Even as she bounced on up from the mattress, Carie was already stripping off her black stockings and panties. She couldn’t bother to take off her sweater, but she insisted Vasily remove his orange shirt and green sweatpants. “I’m not fucking Aquaman!”

For the next twenty minutes, the two of them celebrated the holiday giving thanks for the evening's blessings. Carie gave thanks repeatedly for his exquisitely hung cock with her mouth and hands, while Vasily indulgently expressed his gratitude for her tender, tight pussy with his strong fingers and agile tongue.

Like at dinner, they were eager to get to the main course. Seemingly inspired by Millie’s turkey manoeuvre, Vasily gripped Carie’s ankles with his beeeg hands, extending his long, brawny arms aside and spreading her lithe legs apart before stuffing his beeeg ‘pestle’ into her sweet, moist hole with a rugged thrust.

After two months of abstinence, they fucked like it was a reward for their patience and resilience. Carie swore up a storm, grunting and gasping ‘fuck’ at almost every rigid, deep stroke as if she had hoarded the word for the last sixty days, driving Vasily to a feverish pace.

Towards the end, Vasily’s rugged body was glistening and red from the strain of the intense workout. He looked like the ham.

“You’re so fucking shiny!” Carie laughed, eliciting a knowing sneer on his lips as he rocked her hard on the bed. It was the most natural smile he had worn all day.

With the bedsheets sweaty and pulled off the mattress and the stress levels of the bedframe reaching capacity, the two of them erupted with explosive, groaning orgasms that rattled the windows and door. Carie drenched his stiff cock first, followed quickly by Vasily filling her with shuddering bursts of thick cum.

They recovered on the bed shortly after, still gasping and smacking and licking their lips as they looked toward the ceiling. Carie noted something else to be thankful for: they got through the evening without Vasily finding out about Eric and Yana (and Millie). And she sure as hell wasn’t going to suggest doing something like this again.

Lying beside her, Vasily let out a deep, satisfied sigh. “We should do again at Christmas,” he said.

Carie blinked and froze momentarily. “Um, you mean dinner or…”

“Of course, I mean dinner with guests,” he said.

Then she rolled over and on top of Vasily, feeling the delicious rub of his long, thick cock along her lower belly.

“Yeah, we totally should,” she replied.

The momentary sympatico ended two minutes later when Vasily declared that he was hungry. With the guests having left and a small grocery’s worth of food still left uneaten in his condo, his greedy thoughts had him salivating before he even reached his bedroom door.

Carie rolled her eyes. If it wasn’t fucking and it was food when it came to Vasily, she thought. So she wasn’t sure if it was a look of embarrassment or disappointment on his face after he opened his door and they found Eric and Yana in his living room eating Millie’s pie.

“Eric!” she gasped. “You’re still here?”

“Um, we came back,” her cousin said. He didn’t have to say just how long they had been sitting out there, his red face said it all. “Yana forgot her purse. And then Millie started talking about her pie... and Yana just had to try it...”

“Oh God! Is so good!” Yana moaned, her mouth full of pie. “Is so fluffy and succulent!”

“It… uh… that’s not…” Carie stammered.

“Would you like to taste my pie?” Millie asked. The red-headed waif’s sudden appearance beside Vasily was enough to jar the big man that he backed into Carie.

He blinked at her, stuck on her widened green eyes momentarily, before regarding Carie for guidance with his now trademark lock-jaw smile.

Carie shrugged and shook her head. “Oh, fuck it. Go ahead and try her pie,” she sighed, not specifying if she was being literal or figurative. She walked to the living room, picked up the Horn O’Plenty, and carried it back to the bedroom. “I’ll be in here giving thanks if anyone needs me.”