Friday, December 23, 2011
Warning! Christmas is rapidly approaching!
Holy shit, Christmas is in 2 days. As you read this it is probably closer, which begs the question: how the fuck do you have time to read my blog? Aren’t there presents to wrap, holiday specials to watch, and cookies to bake? Don’t you have to run out to the store for the last minute gifts, fighting the angry hordes as you battle your way through an endless line? No? Heathen bastard, don’t you believe in Santa Clause?
Having been raised Catholic (please don’t hold that against it) I sometimes forget that some people don’t celebrate Christmas. If you live outside the United States I can understand this, but why in fuck’s sake anyone would live in this country and not embrace our commercial worship of a false Christian Holiday deliberately placed to coincide with the Pagan celebration of the winter solstice is beyond me. I mean seriously, you get PRESENTS! People will buy you shit, even if they don’t like you, just because they feel they have to. And if they don’t buy you anything, or if the gift sucks, just tell them they made baby Jesus cry, and next year you’ll get something better.
I was a spoiled fuck as a kid. My mother is the oldest of three, and she married at 19. I was the only kid in the family, and boy did I know how to milk it. I also lived in a house with my mother’s parents, my aunt and uncle, and 2 great grandmothers. My Christmas list was a mile long; just to accommodate everyone that felt they needed to buy me gifts. And really, who was I to deny someone the joy of buying my a present? I mean seriously, it’s Christmas! It was my job as a kid to bring that joy to the childless friends of my parents and grandparents.
It was also a lot easier buying toys for a kid in the seventies and early eighties; there were no expensive video games or movies to buy. There were no expensive gifts, except for the occasional bike. My list was filled with models and army men and, you know, toys. I liked to play. I had bats and balls and gloves and nets and an arsenal of toy guns. My friends had the same things, and when we got together we would play. PLAY.
Play: n. 3. Activity, often spontaneous, engaged in for recreation, as by children. 6. The action or conduct of a game.
Now kids (mine included) sit in front of the TV playing video games. Do you know how many toys my 7 year old has? One. A football. During the summer I got so sick of him spending time in front of the TV I went out and bought him a hundred army men. We spent days outside building forts and playing war. He loved it, but that only lasted for a couple weeks.
Guess what’s on his Christmas list this year? Video games. I asked him if he wanted more army men, and he said “Nah. I already have the ones in the drawer I don’t play with.”
My oldest son is 14. He wants gift cards. Nothing else, just gift cards.. So what do I do? I can’t just hand my oldest a stack of gift cards and say merry Christmas. Nope, won’t do it. So I go to fifty different stores and buy things he will like. I bought shirts and sneakers and new jeans for him, plus comic books and novelty items. I got him posters and games and models. In fact, I got him everything but a video game or gift card. I’ll let the rest of the family buy him that shit.
My middle son is twelve. He wants books and swords. At least that’s something I can work with. He is a lot easier to shop for, because he is just like me. All my boys are like me, but my middle thinks he is me. Hopefully he hasn’t started writing erotica yet. I got him the sword he wanted, plus clothes and sneakers and comics and games.
My youngest got nothing but toys. Toys that require you to physically touch them and play with them. Transformers and a shit-ton of army men, plus cowboys and Indians and dinosaurs and transformers and cars and trucks. He got games. He got nerf guns.
Then I had to buy enough nerf guns for the me and the older two. My house will become a war zone on Christmas morning. While everyone else is listening to Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, me and my boys will be running wild through my house shooting each other with pink darts. Holy shit, we will be PLAYING! I hope they survive.
The final gift I buy for my kids every Christmas (and birthday) is a book. I pick something out for each of them, and ask them to just read the book. I read it as well, and I ask them questions, leading them through the book to make sure they make it to the end and understand it. I always get them something above their heads. This year my oldest will open Game of Thrones (George R.R. Martin), my middle will be reading The Iliad (Homer – not Simpson), and my 7 year old is getting the Newbury Award Winning The Graveyard Book (Neil Gaimen) I don’t do this as a writer, but as a father. I think it’s my responsibility to teach my kids reading is not just fun, but also incredibly important.
OK, my Christmas present diatribe is over. Let’s talk dirty now.
As you all know I am actively involved in 25 days of XXXmas, providing flash fiction to Violet for her blog, as well as posting it here and sharing links via twitter and facebook, pimping the hell out of this collaborative effort brought forth by some incredibly talented writers. It’s our way of sharing our gifts for the holiday season, and hopefully making the cold days of December a little warmer.
This weeks contribution by yours truly is a continuation of last weeks. I so enjoyed the characters and the implied past between them that I had to continue, telling more of their tale and letting them get naked. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
That Familiar Feeling Part 2
I took a sip of hot chocolate and placed the mug on the gritty hearth, easing my weight back as Caroline crawled across the floor towards me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pendulous weight of her breasts as they swayed naked and inviting. One hand touched my knee; the other crawled up my thigh. She snapped her head to the side, sending bright red hair off her shoulder. My hands found the familiar warmth of her breasts, and our lips touched.
She moaned into my mouth as our tongues danced, the taste of hot chocolate and candy cane mixing nicely with our passion. When Caroline’s mouth slipped off mine I immediately missed the taste of her, but feeling the heat of her kiss on my chin and neck brought back a host of feelings I had tried to repress for so long. She lifted the shirt over my head and discarded it, her lips touching my collar bone and working slowly down my chest and stomach. When her hands reached the elastic of my sweatpants I was fully engorged, the pressure of my erection straining against the soft fabric.
“I’ve missed you.” Her green eyes shone with lascivious intent as the elastic was slipped over my hips.
The heat of her mouth wrapped around me, and now it was my turn to moan. Her small hand was gripping me tightly, afraid to let go as she lowered her head and took me fully. All the while her eyes remained locked on mine. I watched as her head bobbed over me, the thick lips spread wide to accommodate every inch of me, all the while her hand sliding over my shaft in perfect rhythm.
“You’re so fucking hard.” She continued to stroke me. “You always managed to get me soaked. I want you to fuck me like you used to. I want you to show me that you missed this as much as I did.”
Sitting forward I took hold of her shoulders and pushed her to the floor, ripping her clothes of as the desperate need to enter her bore a hole through my brain. My actions were primal, animalistic, as I tore through her shirt and ripped the velvety sweatpants in two. All the while I kissed her.
Tied up in knots our bodies searched for that familiar tempo. I found her soaked opening and pushed savagely into her. Caroline yelped as impaled her, the smile on her lips telling me not to stop. Her finger nails dug into my back as she called out my name. We continued to kiss as I pounded into her; all the while she bucked her hips in perfect rhythm, our arms wrapped around each other. We let the passion take control, bringing us both to quick and overpowering orgasms.
Laying on the floor, our sweat glistening and bodies ragged by the intense explosion of lust I couldn’t help but look over and smile at her.
“Merry Christmas.” I kissed her.
Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to check out Violet’s blog, as well as the many others who are participating in this. Here is a list of those involved, including links to their websites/blogs for your enjoyment.
Also, give each of them a follow on facebook and twitter, like their pages, or whatever, and check out some of the books and shorts they have out there, because this is an incredibly talented group, and one in which I am honored to be a part of.
Elizabeth N. Spire