- Joined
- Nov 15, 2025
- Messages
- 116
Hannah was the ringleader of the madness. She understood what Santa meant. She knew that Christmas Eve was a Big Deal. She had dictated a list to Laura on the day after Thanksgiving. Then, helpfully, she dictated Mara's list, too. When Laura and I compared them side by side, we laughed until we cried at the overlap; everything "Mara" wanted was also on Hannah's list.
I oversaw tooth brushing while Laura finished her own shower, dried off, and slipped to our bedroom to dress.
Both kids were in their pajamas and in bed when Laura returned. She kissed them both in turn. "Remember," she said with a stern tone. "If Santa hears sneaking little girl feet, he might zip back up the chimney without leaving any presents." She looked at them both with serious eyes. "So if you hear anything, you just stay right there in bed. You can tell us about it in the morning, okay?"
Hannah's face was so serious I almost laughed. She nodded and pulled her comforter up to her chin. "We'll stay here, Mommy."
"Good," Laura said. "Daddy and I will stay in our room, too. We'll see you in the morning and maybe we'll open some presents from Santa."
Both little ones nodded.
We left them and retreated to our room. Laura watched them on the baby monitor while I retrieved the wrapped gifts from the attic space above my closet.
When the kids were asleep, Laura and I slipped down the stairs.
So far as the kids knew or understood, Laura and I were in our bed, too. We were sleeping and dreaming of Santa, too.
Of course, we weren't.
We were in pajamas, festive and new, and wanted to get the Santa duties done so we could go to bed before our early-morning wake up.
The presents were all wrapped in our 'Santa' paper. It was a rich red and gold pattern that was very different from our cartoon-themed 'family' paper. I'd had Garrett Wildermiller, my mentor and practice partner, write notes for each kid in his crisp, perfect script. The notes, both of the "I am so pleased you were good this year" variety, were tucked into their stockings hanging from the mantle.
The tree was decorated in heirloom ornaments, baby's-first-Christmas ornaments, home-made ornaments, and strands of multi-colored lights. Under it, the presents were arranged so that each kid had her own side of the tree with big M and H tags on each box. Outside, snow was falling in the dark.
It was an idyllic vision of Christmas Eve.
"You did good, Charlie," Laura said. She put her arm around my waist and squeezed. "Christmas number four with kiddos looks like it'll be a hit."
I smiled at our tree and the collection of wrapped gifts. A bounty under the tree. Two healthy kids eager to tear into the wrappings. No student debt for the first time since we'd graduated college. Cars paid off. Mortgage payments at a very manageable number with a wonderful 2.3% interest rate. How many rotten teeth, overbites, cavities, and root canals had it taken to get us here? It didn't matter. At that moment, it was all worth it.
Outside, snow was blowing. I don't know if any new snow was falling, but it was fitting for Christmas Eve.
"Do you remember our first Christmas?" Laura asked.
"At your parents? When they made me sleep on the lumpy sofa in your dad's den and your sister got drunk because no one realized there was alcohol in the egg nog? Yeah I remember her throwing up."
She shook her head. "No, our first one as a married couple, I mean."
"Oh. Yeah," I said. "In Barbados. That swanky resort."
"How much do you remember?"
I looked down at her. "I remember a lot of rum. I remember fireworks."
"Do you remember fucking me on the balcony while people on the pool deck cheered and partied?"
She dropped her hand to my ass and squeezed.
I laughed. "Yeah, I remember that."
She put her hand on my shoulder and stood tall. Her breath was hot on my ear. "Fuck me like that again."
I was a little surprised. Fuck was not one of Laura's preferred words. She didn't like to hear it, much less use it.
She turned away from me and walked towards the steps. I looked after her and my eyes widened.
Her new pajamas were flannel and cozy. A onesie like mine and the kids'. But, unlike mine, hers had a trapdoor. I had thought it was just a cute decoration. But now, watching her walk across our living room by the glow of our tree, I saw that it was very functional.
In the soft light, her body seemed to flow towards the steps. She stopped at the bottom and looked back at me. "Coming?" She ran a finger over the exposed cleft of her butt.
I reacted fast.
"Stay quiet, though," she hissed as I approached.
"That's your job," I said in a whisper that matched hers.
She started up the steps but I caught her and pulled her back. She turned to face me and I kissed her. It was light at first but grew deep quickly. We were breathing hard. I had my arms around her waist and she was wrapped my neck. She was small; I lifted her easily and she wrapped her legs around my waist. She smelled like the kids' shampoo and tasted like cinnamon whiskey.
I was rock hard in the onesie. And sweating. My hands were on the bare flesh of her butt. Our breathing was fast and hot and hard. My lips ached; we were kissing with a vigor we hadn't known since before Mara was born. Nine months before, give or take, now that I think about it.
We didn't make it up to our bedroom.
I sank to my knees and lowered her to the steps. "Oh Charlie," she moaned as my hand teased further into her pajamas. I leaned back and looked down. Her trapdoor only opened so far. "Onesies were a bad idea," she said.
I stood and Laura laughed. It was a girlish giggle I hadn't heard from her in a long time. I looked down and laughed, too. My flannel onesie was tented out in an immodest way. "Yule log," Laura whispered.
"I'll log you," I said.
We both laughed further. It was ridiculous, senseless banter.
Slowly, I unzipped my suit and peeled the material off my sweaty body.
"Not like Barbados," I said. "I'm fatter. And sweatier."
"And so am I. Who cares? You look pretty good right now."
The legs were clingy and I almost fell peeling them off. I felt my cock bouncing as I hopped on one foot with my pajamas stuck to the other. "Glamorous," she said between laughs.
"I notice you're still dressed."
When I had the pajamas off, I returned to her on the steps. She stayed seated and wrapped her legs around me again. I planted my knees on the step beneath her butt and kissed her. She teased her fingers over my bare back. "We need to do this more," she cooed between kisses.
I found the zipper on her pajamas and started working it down. "No bra, either? How did I miss that?"
"Team shower, I was drying off while you had the kids. I dressed in our room." She smiled up at me as I freed her breasts from the onesie.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Bates," I said.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Bates."
I leaned down and kissed her left nipple. She sighed deeply and pressed her chest up against my lips. "Oh god," she breathed. "Get this thing off me."
She pulled at the material on her shoulders and bunched it down towards her hips. She stood and I took over. Her body still charged me up. I remembered Barbados. Bikinis, tanlines, perfect waxing. She didn't have that body anymore, but this one was better; there were the stretchmarks that told the stories of two beautiful kids, there were new pounds and new curves, and there were new imperfections.
She was perfect.
I ran my hands over her hips and leaned close. I kissed her belly, her navel, and her legs. "Oh Charlie," she said. Her hands were in my hair as I nuzzled her pubic hair.
She sank back to the steps and leaned back. I lowered my head as she spread her legs.
She was quiet as I began to lick. Her breath was fast and shallow, but she was silent. She ran her fingers through my hair as I licked.
I knew what she liked and took my time. Long, slow passes over slick lips. Faster, firmer dashes around her clit. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone down on her. She'd given me a birthday blowjob in October. We'd had a quick, sweaty missionary bout in mid-November. But I couldn't remember the last time I'd focused on pleasuring her.
I made her my priority.
On my knees, I used my left elbow for support as I licked and lapped. I caressed her leg with my right hand. Laura leaned back and tried to control her breathing. Listening to her heavy breathing and stifled moans was impossibly sexy.
"In me, Charles. I want you inside me." Her hands gripped my hair and pulled me up. I followed before her tugs got painful.
She didn't hesitate to kiss me. Her lips were soft and warm and wet. She slurped at me and teased with her tongue. I crawled up a step and lowered my body close to hers. Laura wrapped her arms and legs around me and pulled me close.
I did not need a hand to guide myself into her. Years of intimate practice and my complete arousal made that part easy. The steps added a fun twist. Our normal geometry was off. Our faces were close, our chests pressed together, and the angle of my cock different.
"Oh god," Laura gasped. Her legs tightened and pulled my hips closer. "Oh god, go deep."
I slid further into her. She pulled away from my face and leaned her head back. Her eyes were closed and she was holding her breath. Her face was visibly flushed, even in the low light of the living room.
We both breathed harder as I increased the tempo of my thrusts. She was warm and soft and intoxicating. I pressed my face into the hollow under her jaw and kissed up and down her neck. Hers was a long neck and it took many kisses to do the job properly. She smelled wonderful; like the dinner she had prepared, like soap and floral shampoo, and, best of all, like her. I drank in the scents as I thrust.
"Charlie, shhhh," Laura hissed. I realized I was getting loud. I was grunting and my knees were thumping on the steps as I pumped in and out. "But don't slow down." Her voice was breathy and light. I knew it well.
I shifted my weight to one hand and dropped the other to the space between our bodies. I slid my fingers through the tangle of our pubic hair and to the warm, wet spot where we were joined. She gasped when I found her clit and began to apply pressure in small, firm circles.
"Oh fuck, Charlie. Fuck!" She was gasping. Her hips rose and fell in time with my circles and thrusts. It was her turn to thump. She got louder. Low grunts and moans echoed up the stairs. I cupped a hand over her mouth and, at the same time, bit the knuckles of that hand. We were breathing each other's breath. Fast, and with matching tempos, we gasped and kissed and muffled one another.
Laura's eyes were open. In the dim light, the brown was dark and warm. I pressed my forehead to hers as I felt my climax building inside me. She beat me by a heartbeat. Her body reacted tightly around my cock. Her muscles tensed and I felt like she had locked my cock inside her. Every movement I made sent thrills of pleasure radiating from my foreskin. That pleasure was a churning sea. It was a heavy, thick pressure deep in my core. It swelled and then, like the crescendo of a mighty chorus, broke inside me.
I pressed forward. My hand was pinned between my body and hers. I registered the wiry twists of pubic hair and the sweat and her cum.
I burst with a pent up passion I hadn't known was there. My free hand held the back of her head, my fingers twisted through her hair. Deep inside her, I felt my cock throb and spurt. Every muscle below my navel tightened as I came. My ass puckered, my cheeks flexed tight, and my legs struggled to find purchase on the carpet runner that adorned the steps.
Laura's eyes were closed again. Her head was pressed back against my hand. Muscles and tendons stood out in her neck as she gasped for air. We were both sweating furiously.
Again and again I jerked and ejaculated. Syllables eluded me as I tried to express myself. "God," I gasped. "Oh god."
As the wave washed over both of us, we didn't move. I kissed her lips. She held me close as our bodies cooled and recovered. I could feel my own cum inside her. Eventually, gently, I slipped my cock out. And still we didn't move. She hugged me and I lay atop her. We kissed. We held each other. We cuddled close.
Eventually, Laura whispered in my ear. "This is getting uncomfortable."
"Yeah," I agreed.
It took a moment, but we untangled ourselves from one another and Laura from her discarded onesie. Naked and coated in sweat, we walked up the steps and to our bedroom.
We showered together. There was no danger of a round two, but the intimacy and proximity was nice. No kids, just each other.
"That was nice," Laura said after we'd dried off and dressed in our normal pajamas. She lay on the bed, above the covers, and turned off her bedside lamp. I climbed onto the bed beside her and held her close. Our home was dark and quiet. "I really liked that you went down on me. You haven't done that since before Mara was born."
"Haven't I? I knew it was a while." Two years? Really?
"Yeah, a while." She nuzzled close, her nose pressing into the hollow of my neck. "But it was really nice."
"We haven't had sex on the steps since we bought the house," I said. "When we did it in every room."
"Hmmm," Laura cooed. "Yeah." She slid her hand down the front of my shirt. Her fingers traced the faded, peeling screen print logo. "You know," she said. "I'm ovulating today."
I smiled at the ceiling. "That explains a lot."
"How do you feel about an October baby?"
"Seriously?"
"Hmm, yeah," she said. "May have already gotten lucky. I felt your cum dripping down my leg the whole time we were in the shower. You really filled me up, Charlie." She whispered it like someone might overhear. Maybe she worried Santa was listening.
"October would be good," I said. "We'd almost be out of the newborn phase by Christmas. It may feel almost normal."
"That's what I was thinking." She nuzzled her head close to me. "Maybe we'll get a little Christmas present of our own."
"Christmas miracle," I said.
"Hmm," she agreed.
Minutes passed. Her breathing grew regular. Eventually her hand slipped off my chest and she rolled away and onto her own side of the bed.
In time, I rolled to my side and draped my arm over her. "Mer Chris..." she muttered. She took my hand in hers and we both drifted to sleep.
