It's a Christmas, Carol

"Where were you planning on taking me?" I asked. I didn't want him to know that it was my first date. I figured that it would be someplace like a movie theater. That way he could feel me up in the dark.

"I know a really great restaurant on the east side near the river," he said. "But if you want go someplace else...?"

Shock wasn't a strong enough word. Then I noticed it. My blouse had the first four buttons open. I was showing more cleavage than a porn star and he was looking at my eyes.

"Evan, I'll go anywhere you want to go, anytime you want me to go there," I said. From that moment on I was Evan's property and he took very good care of me. I fell in love with the way that Evan made me feel. Where a lot of other guys looked at me and saw a fat girl with a pair of huge titties...some of them didn't give me that much credit. Some of them just saw a walking pair of tits. I wasn't sure they even knew I was connected to them. But Evan saw me. He often told me how beautiful I was and we weren't even having sex then.

I began to feel a touch of apprehension about what it would be like when we did have sex. Would he still see me as beautiful? Or would he see that I was just another fat girl and fall out of love with me. He was like a drug to me. I saw him as much as I could and I could refuse him nothing. His kisses were like the sweetest wine imaginable and his touch set me afire.

When it finally happened, it was a life changing event. Evan made love to my whole body. He licked and sucked every inch of flesh from my toes to my head. He spent as much time playing with my ass and my belly as he did my tits. And my tits loved him. He was so gentle with them. He took his time and lit me up. After all of the men I'd been with, Evan was the first and only one who actually got down between my thighs and licked my pussy. There are some things that most men just don't do to bigger girls. At least with me, Evan had no such stipulations. By the time he was ready to fuck me, I was begging for it. He had me so worked up that I came after only two or three strokes. But he kept going. I almost lost my mind that night. I had lost my heart weeks before.

I didn't think that things between us could ever get any better. My idea of the perfect evening was for Evan to pick me up after work and take me to his apartment and fuck me until we were both spent. Evan, of course, had other ideas. He kept taking me out to shows and restaurants and walks and other things. He wasn't ashamed of me. It was as if he was proud of me.

Then he sent my whole world into a tizzy. Evan took me to his apartment one evening. He sat me down and my pussy started dripping. I spread my legs and leaned back. Evan loved to just massage and caress my body before he even took my clothes off. I was so turned on that my nipples showed through my bra and a sweater, but I really had no idea what was about to happen.

He got down on his knees and I closed my eyes in anticipation of the pleasure to come. I waited for a few seconds thinking that he was teasing me. When nothing had happened in a few moments I opened one eye and went into shock. Evan was on one knee in front of me holding out the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. I was speechless.

"Carol, are you going to give me an answer, or do you need time to think about it?" he asked. In an instant my life changed. Until that evening, I had kept Evan a secret. Only the women I worked with knew about him. None of my family or friends outside of work knew anything about him. That way if things hadn't worked out, no one would have been able to laugh at me or look down on me. I hated the "poor fat girl," looks the most.

I took Evan home and introduced him to my parents that evening. The following morning, I started moving my things into Evan's apartment.

I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. Another benefit that I never saw coming was that my parents were suddenly interested in me. They never had been before. I felt as if I was surrounded by love for the first time in my life. After we were married we visited my parents often. When my children were born we drew into an even closer bond with them. It took a Christmas for me to notice the nightmare, I was living.

My parents had given Evan some very expensive fishing equipment. My dad was also giving Evan a trip to go fishing in the Florida Keys. There were tons of toys for the babies as well. They gave ME, things for the kids. They didn't give me a single personal gift. I realized then that my parents didn't give a fuck about me. I was surprised that they even knew my fucking name. Their only interest in me was that I brought them Evan.

Evan was like some sort of replacement in their hearts for my brother. They also loved their grand kids. I on the other hand was just there to take care of Evan and the kids. My own parents overlooked me at every turn.

It took some time, but eventually I began to hate my parents. I also began to resent Evan and even my kids to some extent. I wondered exactly what the fuck was wrong with me. Why couldn't the people who gave me life, see me as being special and important too?

I don't know exactly when I decided to punish Evan, but for the past year I've been letting Billy fuck me. I see Billy at least a couple of times a week, and every time, it feels as if I'm striking back at Evan and my parents.

I guess I'm punishing my parents for never treating me the way they treated my brother; or the way they treat Evan and my kids now. And I'm punishing Evan, for taking my parents attention away from me.

As I come back to reality and out of my thoughts Billy is pulling his dick out of me and shooting his semen over my chest and belly. He is sweating heavily and breathing equally hard. He lies down on the bed next to me. We settle in and take a nap. Before I leave the hotel, I leave him some money. Billy doesn't have a job, so he needs my help. Giving him money is the least I can do for him. Billy loves ME, not my parents and not my kids. Billy is all mine.

* * * * * *

Evan

It was the tapping on the windshield that woke me up. There was a guy looking in my Jeep. My head felt really strange. I looked around and noticed that my jeep was wrecked. I had gone off the road. I remember thinking that my fucking airbag hadn't I was clearly wrong as the remains of the airbag were blown out of my steering column. I looked at the guy tapping on the window and tried to open the door. He pulled the door open and started talking to me.

"Are you alright, Evan?" he asked. He seemed to be concerned with my well being. He probably just didn't want me to sue him for running me off of the fucking road.

I tentatively moved my upper extremities and then my lower limbs. I tried to step down out of the ruined jeep and found that I could. In my mind that seemed to indicate that physically I was fine. At least there were no major injuries that I could detect.

"You're fine, Evan," he said. For some reason I believed him. Then the anger that I had come out to try to dissipate came back. When you factored in the fact that this bastard had wrecked my car, my anger was justified.

"How the fuck would you know whether or not I'm fine?" I screamed suddenly. "Are you a doctor, or do you play one on TV?" He looked amused. There was no fear in him at all. As I looked at him, not knowing exactly what he expected of me, he seemed to be almost overly calm. Even as I glared at him, the idling motor of his nearby Mustang revved.

"Uhm, Evan, you need to calm down," he said glancing over at the Yellow Mustang.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked. "Can I see your insurance information and ID?"

"I'm Tim Matthews," he smiled. "Your car is fine. You don't need to involve the insurance agencies."

"Oh shit," I said. "You don't have any fucking insurance, do you?"

"We don't need no stinking insurance," he laughed. "Your car is fine. Let's get started."

He gently grabbed my arm and started leading me towards his Mustang. The car, in an almost eerie vibe that felt more like Halloween than Christmas, revved its engine again as we approached. A light snow had begun to fall, but strangely enough, none of the snow seemed to land on the car. Each and every gleaming body panel seemed to be dry and untouched by the moisture and snow. It seemed kind of weird to me that the car would be sitting there dry and gleaming while snow fell all around us.

I looked at the driver again. "Uh, Tim, where are we going?" I asked.

"I'm doing a favor for a friend," he said. "I have to show you something. Come on we don't have much time. Chrissie won't hurt ya."

For some reason I just didn't feel like arguing. He really seemed to be trustworthy. It was his car that frightened me. Nevertheless I got into the car. I sank down into the rich thick leather.

"Tim, maybe you should slow down a bit," I said. He just laughed. He released the parking brake and gave the motor some gas. The car shot forward faster than anything I had ever felt. Even on the snowy and slushy road surface, the tires seemed to bite and propelled the car forward as sure footed as a mountain goat. I looked at the speedometer and noticed that we were passing cars like they were standing still. One hundred miles an hour in sleet seemed foolish. One hundred and fifty had me assured that we wouldn't survive the ride. As we shot past two hundred miles an hour, with traffic just a blur outside of our windows, Tim reached over casually and hit his stereo. The song sounded really cheery with bells ringing and an old man talking.

When they reached the chorus of the song I realized that Tim was out of his fucking mind. The song was called "You ain't getting shit for Christmas," and Tom laughed maniacally every time the chorus came on.

As soon as the song ended Tim stopped the car and we got out. I recognized the place as being my old apartment building.

"I used to live here," I said. Tim just smiled at me and said, "Duh."

I followed him into the building, thinking that maybe we were there to call the police to report the accident. He grabbed my hand and we stepped right through the fucking wall. It was really disconcerting. It scared the shit out of me.

When I got my bearings back and my mind started to function at a level that somewhat resembled normal, I noticed that we had stepped directly into an apartment. We were watching two people on a couch. The woman was lying on her side in front of the man on a sofa. As they watched television, she pumped her large ass against his lower abdomen. He reached around and gently reached under her sweater freeing an incredibly large breast. From the second that she moaned, an alarm went off in my head. She looked familiar, but her hair threw me off track. Then I remembered. For the last five years Carol had been cutting her hair short. I was watching myself fucking my wife before we were married.

"God damn, those are huge titties!" yelled Tim.

"That's my wife, asshole...Hey wait a minute! How the hell are you doing this? What are we doing here?" I asked.

"My friend wanted you to see this," he said calmly. He was craning his neck to see Iris' boobs.

"Who the hell is your friend and why does he want us to watch me with my wife?" I asked.

"My friend calls himself the ghost of Christmas past," said Tim. "And I think you're supposed to be learning something by watching this. Holy shit those things are epic!"

"Will ya stop gawking at my wife's hooters?" I snapped. "Wait...did you say the ghost of Christmas past?"

"Yep," he said. "Relax, they can't see or hear us. So she's never going to know I saw her sweater melons."

"Yeah, but I'll know. And this is my wife you're ogling," I said. Even as we spoke the couple on the sofa forgot about the television and began to concentrate on each other in earnest. The younger version of Iris spread her legs and pulled me on top of her. God, she was beautiful back then. Looking at her face I saw nothing but love in her eyes. This was before she became such a spoiled bitch. I wondered what had happened to change her. Was it me? Had I in fact done something to her to cause such a dramatic change in attitude?

"It wasn't you, Bubba," said Tim as if he could read my mind. "Quick quiz...what are we looking at?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come on Evan. Get with the program. This is two crazy kids in love right?" He just looked at me. "Nod your head if you're still with me."

I nodded my head and he shook his as if he really didn't believe me. "Chrissie!" he screamed, and suddenly we were back outside standing in front of his yellow Mustang. We got into the car and before I could close my seat belt he was driving again. Trees, houses, people and cars streamed past the window at an alarming rate. We passed a cop car so quickly that I don't think the officers even saw us. The strangest thing about it was that for a while during the drive, the temperature warmed up and the sun came out. Then even as I watched the leaves on the trees changed colors and suddenly it was winter again. We parked in my driveway, but the house looked different. The privacy fence that we'd put up a few years ago was gone. And looking in the back yard, I didn't see the pool or the deck. It was strange.

I looked over at him to ask a question, but he was already outside of the car. "Hurry up dude, we're on the clock," he said. I got out of the car and I was confused. What the hell were we looking for? He grabbed my arm and stepped through the wall. I was ready for his Kitty Pryde routine this time though. We stepped into a scene that had to have been three or four years ago. My family was complete but the kids were probably only about five and six years old.

It was obviously Christmas morning. I was beginning to see something. The first place we'd visited had been a Christmas too. Iris and I had just gotten together. That had been our first Christmas together. Back then we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. The scene we watched now was years later. We had money and we spent it on our kids. But Carol and I were still crazy about each other. As I watched the scene, I noticed something. I stepped into the scene only inches away from Iris and looked closely at her face. Her face was different. I couldn't exactly pin down what the difference was but it was there. Her face was harder. Perhaps it was the passing of the years or the problems we'd overcome in getting to where we were.

I looked over at Tim. "Well your head is partially out of your ass," he smirked. "But you're still not seeing it. At least you've noticed something though, so there may still be some hope for you."

I walked into the kitchen. I looked on the refrigerator at the calendar. It was Christmas of 2009. It was four years ago.

"Can I have some kind of clue?" I asked. "Am I looking at Carol or at me?"

"Evan, think about what you were just looking at. You think that the difference in your wife is all of the shit you've gone through, right? That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard. Your wife doesn't do shit. You're the one who goes out and works. Where is she going to run into problems? Maybe she had a heart attack between the refrigerator and the couch?"

"What do you have against big women?" I asked. "All women are beautiful in their own way. Different men like different types of women. We don't all fit into the same box!"

"Well your wife sure as hell won't fit into most of the boxes," he smirked.

"You liked her well enough when you were going gaga over her tits on that couch," I said. "So maybe you do like bigger girls, but you're just ashamed of it. I think you're a closet chubby chaser."

"I think you're a closet idiot," he said angrily. "I have no problem with bigger girls. What I have a problem with is skanky, cheating whores who..." He clapped a hand over his mouth as if he'd said too much.

"Are you trying to tell me that...?" I began. He grabbed my arm and stepped back through the wall. "Tim, now that you've started this you have to..."

"My time is up, Bud," he said. "See ya!" He jumped into that yellow Mustang and revved the engine. I jumped in front of the car, sure that he wouldn't run me over. He revved that monstrous engine a couple of times. I stepped back involuntarily. My belief that he wouldn't run me over was fading quickly. I could see the headlines in the local papers. "Business man and father, run down three days before Christmas. He leaves behind..."

Suddenly I stopped. Just what would I be leaving behind? The car lurched forward and drove off down the road almost too quickly to be seen. The car had passed directly through me. "See you later," yelled Tim, leaving me no doubt that the two of us would meet again.

I stood there, in the middle of the street, in front of my house. But it was my house four years ago. I watched as my wife and I walked out of the house with our kids and got into my old car and drove away. I passed within inches of myself. All kinds of weird things went through my mind. I couldn't help thinking about the theory from all of the sci-fi movies I've seen, that two instances of the same person can't exist in the same time and place without destroying the fabric of the space time continuum.

"Oh my God you don't really believe that do you?" asked a voice from behind me. I whipped around to see the person who'd said it.

It was a woman. She took my breath away. She was very short, but also very beautiful. She had an olive complexion and long, thick, wavy black hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Her dark eyes appeared to be laughing as she looked at me, but her overall expression was one of pain and sadness. The contrast between the two extremes only added to her beauty and to the sense of mystery about her.

Unlike my wife this woman was nearly flat-chested. But somehow, even to me, it just didn't seem to matter. Her full lips and her porn star-like ass captivated my attention.

Against my conscious will, my dick sprang to life. She looked at me and it was as if she too could tell what I was thinking.

"A few years ago, I would have let you..." she said sadly. Her voice sounded like cigarettes and too many nights spent doing really nasty things. "...and once you got a taste, you'd have been hooked. I'd have had you scratching my itch every time I felt like it and sometimes when I didn't. But that's what sentenced me to the hell I'm in right now. I'm trying my ass off to be the kind of woman..." She sighed deeply and paused. The look in her eyes filled with pain again.

"Besides, even if I gave you some right here, right now, we'd both regret it almost as soon as we were finished. I know YOU would. You're too much like Tim not to," she said.

"You're Tim's wife?" I asked. "You're the Chrissie, he yelled for?"

"Not that Tim," she said. "And Chrissie ain't his wife. Chrissie is the car. Mine is a different Tim from a different story. Besides, this story is all about you. I guess we're all trying to help you out as a way of undoing some of the bad things we've done. Or maybe in Tim's case, the bad things that car has done."

"You know, I'm really getting tired of this shit," I said. "Why the fuck does everyone seem to know everything about me, but I don't know anything about any of you, or even why this shit is going on?"

"My name is Ivy," she said. "I'm a really evil woman. All my life I've had these cravings. Sometimes they're just uncontrollable. I let them get between me and what I want most in life, so now I have to suffer for it."

"You really look like you're suffering," I said smarmily.

"Evan, I've been with a lot of men. More men than I can count or remember. I have borne six children by at least five different men and lost another child during the pregnancy. Through all of that, I've been in love only once in my life. I broke that poor man's heart, not once but twice. And it could have been worse. I cheated on him many times but he only caught me twice. He ended up marrying my daughter and giving her two children. My daughter died and now I'm living with him again to help raise my grandchildren as well as my three youngest. I know that this is my last possible chance with him and I swear that I will never do it again. I haven't had sex in three years that doesn't involve a battery powered implement, but he still barely speaks to me. I'm hoping that helping you yields some kind of karmic benefit. So I'm an open book. Ask me anything you want," she said.