Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 01

It was December Thirteenth. Thirteen days until Christmas. It had been a long busy day, but here we were, standing outside in the cold at eight at night, standing on a lonely hilltop to catch a glimpse of comet Leonard, low on the horizon, blazing through space at over a hundred fifty thousand miles an hour. It was still twenty one million miles from us, but that was as close as it was going to get. It was literally a once in a lifetime event, since this particular comet was going to flash through the solar system and then off into deep space, never to visit earth again.

I stepped behind my wife and wrapped my arms around her while she held the binoculars to her eyes to see what looked like just a fuzzy star to the naked eye. It wasn't particularly spectacular, but it was an unusual event, a Christmas star, so to speak. After holding her for some minutes, I unzipped her coat part way and started to unbutton the front of the dress she'd worn to the Christmas party we just left, intending to slip my hands in and play with her big, soft thirty-eight double D's.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at me.

"Playing," I whispered as I stopped unbuttoning and let my hands cup her breasts through her dress and bra.

"Really? Out here?"

"It's a once in a lifetime thing. When else would you ever get the chance to say you made out in the light of a Christmas star."

"I'm not making out, out in the open like this, Christmas star or not. Besides, it's cold and your hands are cold!"

"We have a nice warm car right over there," I whispered, letting my fingers try and stroke her nipples through the heavy padded bra she had on.

"Having sex in the back seat of a car? I'd have thought you'd have grown out of such childish things after forty years."

"What's to grow out of. You still turn me on. You have a sexy body. I THINK you like what I do, why not do it in the car?"

"Because it's not as comfortable for me as you might think it is. Besides, if you really need to get your wickies off, there's a nice warm bed at home."

"But by the time we get home, the mood will have changed."

"Who says there's a mood at all? For you maybe, but it's cold, my legs are cold and now that you have my coat open, the cold air is freezing my boobs. Not the kind of thing to make me turned on. You wanna have sex in the cold? Why not just walk over there and you can wank yourself off in the light of the Christmas star. I'm not getting undressed out here."

"You can be a killjoy sometimes," I said out loud. "I wish you'd be a little more like you were when we were first married. You were so full of fun and adventure," I whispered to myself, thinking...no hoping, she wouldn't hear it, because it'd cause another of our fights over sex. They always turned out the same. We USED to have a lot of fun, before the kids came along. Now that they were all out of the house, I'd hoped some of it would come back. It was an old argument, that I never won. I pulled my hands from inside her coat and zipped it up and stepped back from her, putting two feet or so between us. Yeah, the mood was definitely gone now.

"I heard that," she said as she put the binoculars down. "Trust me, you don't want to open that barn door," she whispered, almost as if she thought I wouldn't hear it. Then she shook her head and added louder, "I think I've seen enough. I'm ready to go home."

"Sure," I said, turning and walking across the small field towards where we parked the car. We drove home without another word. If she was affected by my obvious disappointment, she didn't say anything.

We got home and both of us changed into pj's, me in my usual sleep shorts since I always got so warm in bed at night, and her in a pair of flannel pajamas. Even through the flannel top she had on I could see her breasts wiggling and her nipples push the material out as she bustled around the kitchen taking care of the daily dishes before bed. It gave me a hard-on as I watched TV, and her at the same time. She came in to sit on the other end of our sectional sofa, in 'her' recliner, while I sat on the other end in mine. If she saw my dick tenting up my pajama shorts, she didn't say anything. She just pulled out her phone and started to read the book she'd been reading for the last week. No, there was definitely no mood left, if it even existed anywhere other than in my own mind to start with.

Sunday morning was normally our sleep in morning. We didn't need to leave for church until nine, so lying in bed until eight was a luxury we only got once a week. I felt my wife climb from the bed around what must have been sevenish, given the light filtering in through the windows. I heard the toilet flush and then moments later felt the bed move again. I felt her roll over in the bed and snuggle against my back, my sleepy brain feeling the soft warmth of her bare breasts pressed against my back as her arm snaked around me and her hand pressed against my chest as she molded herself against me. She wiggled around to get comfortable and then I felt the soft steady breathing return as she fell back asleep.

When the alarm went off at eight, I slapped my phone to turn it off. I stretched, or tried too, my wife still molded to my back. "Do we have to?" she groaned softly, not moving her arm that held us together.

"Not if you don't want to be on time for church," I answered back.

"Oh. Alright," she said, releasing me. I tossed the covers back and sat up, looking back at my wife. I looked back at her and was somewhat surprised to see her completely naked. Most of the time she didn't even get completely naked when we were having sex. I looked at her for long seconds. "What?" she asked with a little scowl on her face.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the view."

"What's to enjoy. It's just fat old woman tits," she said without moving. "Now go turn on the water."

"Yes ma'am," I said, rolling my eyes at her obvious lack of mood. I pushed myself out of bed and padded the short distance to the bathroom. I stepped into my custom built walk in shower and turned on both sets of spray heads, the automatic controls set for each of our preferred water temperatures. "Water's warm," I called as I stepped under the spray head on my side. She walked in a few moments later and stepped under the spray on her side. She was only under it for a few moments when she turned around and changed the selector valve so she had water coming from both her overhead and her hand wand. She took the wand down from its bracket and used it to spray over herself and then used it to wet her long brown hair. She put the sprayer back and shampooed her hair while I finished washing myself. I was just about to turn off my water and leave the shower when she stopped me.

"Would you rinse my hair?" she asked sweetly.

"Um. Sure," I responded to the unusual request. We'd had the dual shower for almost three years now and this was the first time she asked me to do anything for her in it. I reached past her and pulled the hand wand down from its bracket. She turned to face me and stepped towards me, her head tipped back so that her long soapy hair hung down her back. I stepped closer to her, stopping just before my chest touched hers, and started to gently rinse the soap from her hair, working from her forehead, back over her head and then down the long strands. She stepped closer to me, pressing her tits into my chest as I worked the lather out of her hair. I couldn't help it. Feeling her slippery tits pressed to my chest had its effect. I could feel my dick growing harder by the second. I could also feel WHERE it was growing, my head pressing against the gap in her thighs. I felt her wiggle a little, her tits slipping on my chest some more and her thighs pushing my hard-on back and forth. She moved one leg and then set it down again, letting my hard-on stick into the gap of her thighs and press up against her pussy. I suddenly had every reason to finish rinsing her hair even more slowly. I felt her work her legs slightly, making her thighs stroke my hard-on one way and then the other, making it harder and press up against her pussy even more so.

"I think it's rinsed," she finally whispered.

"Yeah," I agreed reluctantly, figuring that our little interlude was at an end. It had served to make me horny as hell, but it didn't look like I was getting anything more. I reached up past her and hung the hand head in its bracket and then started to pull back. I felt her hands on my bare ass cheeks pull against me, stopping me from moving away.

"You want to put the conditioner in my hair?"

"Sure," I answered, even more confused.

"It's the brown bottle," she said softly.

I reached to the shelf behind her, pressing my chest harder to hers to reach the bottle. I squirted a pretty good sized dollop on my hand and then put the bottle back. I hadn't done her hair in years, but I hadn't forgotten how. I rubbed the dollop of conditioner on the top of her head and then gathered her hair up. I pulled her gathered hair to the top of her head and began to rub my fingers through it, spreading the conditioner into the mound, working all the strands of hair slick.

While I went work on her hair, she went back to moving one leg and then the other, pressing her pelvis towards me. Her motions soon changed to moving so that her pussy slid along my shaft several inches, caressing my hard-on as she played with it with her thighs and pussy lips.

I felt one of her hands leave my butt and then felt her move her legs apart. Once again, I expected that we were done and whatever idea she'd had was done. To my surprise I felt fingers on my dick head and realized that she had reached behind herself, and under her own ass. Her fingers stroked the underside of my head for several seconds before pressing me up between her lips. She rocked her hips again, this time stroking her wet pussy along and between her lips. I felt her arch her back slightly and then felt her body close around my now engorged head.

"Mmmmmmmm," she said softly as I felt my cock push up into her. Not real far, but far enough to make it feel damn good. She moved her hand back to my butt and started to rock her hips again, this time pushing herself on and off my hard shaft. She stood, her eyes closed rocking herself so that her pussy stroked on and off my cock several inches while her tits rubbed on my chest. "This feels good," she whispered. "I should let you help me with my hair more often."

"Uh huh," I answered, not moving anything but my hands on her hair for fear that she'd stop what she was doing. I felt my cock growing fatter inside her as she teased me closer and closer to climax.

"Uhhh. Right there," she grunted after a few more moments. "Ohhhhhhh. Oh damn!" she gasped as her body shuddered a little and I felt her pussy squeeze around me. She paused only for a few moments and then went back to stroking herself on and off my dick.

"Uhhh. Damn," I grunted as my body spasmed, unable to hold back any longer. I felt my cock squirting into her pussy, pumping shot after shot into her as she held me, her tits squeezed to my chest and her own body still squeezing and spasming around my dick.

"That was nice," she whispered as she opened her eyes a few moments later. "You better let me finish this myself, or we're going to be late for church," she whispered, pulling her hands from my butt and moving them to my hands on her head.

"Yeah. Probably," I agreed as she stepped back slightly, pulling my dick from her pussy. I stood there, watching her rinse her hair while my dick continued to twitch and drool cum as it softened. She finished her hair and then squirted some soap on her washcloth. Instead of rubbing it on her body, she stepped from under the water and used it to wash my dick.

"Can't go to church smelling like sex, can we?" she asked as she finished washing my dick. She pulled on it like a handle, pulling me under the water so she could rinse it, stroking its softened form for several seconds before letting go.

I got the idea we were done and went to dry off and shave my face. I couldn't help but watch her finish showering while I shaved, the glass around the shower fogged over, leaving me with a tantalizingly fuzzy image of her moving as she washed.

We dressed for church, my wife seeming to take a little longer than usual as she dug in her dresser drawers. I watched a little surprised, but knowing I better keep my mouth shut, as she pulled on a pair of thigh high stockings that she NEVER wore any more, always choosing to go with a pair of pantyhose and a slip. Today both were absent. By the time she was dressed, we had only time to wolf down a piece of toast before running out the door for church.

After church we had lunch at Sonic. I couldn't help but frequently look over at her as we sat waiting for our food and then eating. She typically wore a dress that was much longer than knee length to church, but today she wore one that was well shorter than her knees. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I LIKE looking at her legs, something she complains about any time I make a comment. Today that shorter skirt pulled even further up her thighs in the car seat, the tops of her stockings peeking from under the hem. I didn't dare say a word though.

We got home and changed clothes. I pulled on a t-shirt and jeans while my wife changed into a pair of baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Basically comfortable clothes, since our task for the afternoon was to sit in the workout room and wrap the mass of presents that had to go under the tree. At least we could watch football while we worked.

We'd been at the wrapping for a couple hours and the end was far from in sight. We were running low on tape, and it was getting close to the end of the game we were watching, so my wife volunteered to go to the store real quick and get more tape.

"Hey lover. Can you come in here a minute?" I heard her call about fifteen minutes or so later.

"Sure hon," I answered, pushing from the table and stretching. I walked out of the workout room and down the hall towards the kitchen and family room. I saw her standing in the family room with her hands behind her back and a mischievous grin on her face. "What's up?"

"I need you to hang something up for me," she said quietly, the grin never leaving her face.

"Okay," I answered expectantly.

"Would you hang this on the ceiling fan chain?" she asked pulling her hands from behind her back. She had some kind of little bundle of green oblong leaves and tiny white berries. I took it from her and reached up to the ceiling fan chain, which we actually never used since it was controlled by a smart switch. It took a few seconds to get the little loop of ribbon around the chain a few times so it would hang below the fan. I was just about done when I felt her step up against me, pressing her body against mine while her hands circled my waist and held us together. I lowered my arms from above my head, my work now done, and let my arms come down and loop around her.

"There."

"Good. Now we can try it out."

"Try it out?" I asked quizzically.

"It is mistletoe," she said quietly. "That means you're supposed to kiss me."

"I can do that," I answered, pulling her against me and leaning my head down the few short inches to meet her lips. Now, my wife has never been a big kisser. I mean, don't get me wrong... she does kiss me...frequently. It's just that her kisses are...well...closed lip dry little smooches. They've been that way since we met forty years ago. I never complained, it was just how she kissed. The few times I'd tried to coax her to open her mouth and French kiss, she resisted, and I eventually gave up. So we kissed little dry smooches for several seconds. To my surprise, she didn't let go of me, she continued to hold me as tightly as before we kissed. I took the implied suggestion that she wasn't done yet and leaned down to kiss again. This time she held her lips to mine longer. We broke the kiss after about five seconds and then she lifted her face to mine yet again. This time her lips were partly open. I kissed back, feeling her breath in my mouth for the first time since I'd known her. We stood there, under the ceiling fan, letting our lips explore, though somewhat awkwardly. I kind of felt like a teenager learning to kiss all over again, but then she was in the same boat.

As we kissed, I couldn't help but get turned on. I let my hands slip down into the back of her sweatpants and slide down to her panty covered butt, squeezing both cheeks while she pressed herself against me. We continued to kiss, neither of us seeming to be in any hurry to stop. After squeezing her butt, I couldn't help but to slip my hands into the back of her panties, feeling her bare ass cheeks in my hands.

"Someone's getting turned on," she whispered, her face so close to mine her lips almost brushed mine as she spoke.

"Yeah. Kinda," I answered breathlessly. "I could kiss you like this all day."

"I doubt it," she whispered. "Not that you wouldn't want to, but given where your hands are, how long do you think it'll be before you're pushing my pants down to get to my pussy?"

"I...um...I suppose..."

"Shhhh. Don't. I know you want to. So go ahead," she whispered.

"Push your pants down?"

"You need an engraved invitation?" she giggled, her face still inches from mine.

"Uh... NO!" I answered in a loud whisper. I slipped my hands out of her underwear and moved them to her hips, pushing the sweat- pants and panties down over her butt to her thighs. I felt her hands move from behind me, working around between us to undo my pants. It didn't take long for her to have the front undone and her hands pushing my briefs and jeans down, leaving both of us standing under the mistletoe with our pants equally lowered. She pushed my dick down and let it slip between her thighs before reaching around and pulling us together again, almost as if she'd done this before, though I couldn't remember ever having done so.

"You know. The last time I kissed a man under mistletoe like this, it was the wrong man at the wrong time," she whispered. "Cost me something I couldn't ever get back."

I was silent for several seconds, thinking about what she'd said and wondering what she'd lost she couldn't ever get back. Finally all I could do was answer stupidly. "Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

"That why you don't kiss like this?" I whispered, letting my lips touch hers. "Because of that other guy?"

"I guess so," she said, stiffening a little in my arms, almost as if the memory of something had suddenly changed her desire to be with me the way she was.

"Well, I'm the right man at the right time," I whispered, squeezing her butt cheeks and lowering my face the last inch to hers again to kiss.

She broke the kiss after another minute or two, releasing my waist. She stepped back from me, and I thought I'd somehow messed up. Instead she stood about two feet from me, pulling off her sweatshirt and then taking off her bra. She pushed her sweatpants down and worked them down her legs and then took off her shoes and the bunched up pants, leaving her in just her socks. She moved towards me again and stepped against me, guiding me between her thighs again. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled herself to me. She lifted herself and gently kissed me, more wetly than before. We stood there, her naked, gently rocking her hips to grind her clit into the top of my shaft as I squeezed her butt cheeks.

She moved her hands from around my waist and started to pull my t-shirt up. I let go of her butt and put my arms up so she could pull my shirt up and off. When she tossed my shirt aside, she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down. I wasn't at all sure what she wanted, but I let her push me down, coaxing me lower and lower until I had to sit on the floor, her pussy in my face. I reached for her butt and pulled her to me, reaching out to lick and kiss her soft pussy lips hidden in her slightly graying curls. She let me sit and lick her for some minutes before she started to sink down. She lowered herself to her knees, her sexy tits now in my face. I cupped both big soft mounds and squeezed them before starting to kiss and lick each nipple in turn. I teased each one, licking around it and then sucking it into my mouth to suck and pull it with my lips.