Free Come for Me for Christmas by E. L. Devine Page A

Heh. Sounds like some snobby description of a fine wine but that's
actually a good comparison for her….vintage sex and womanliness that you could
just inhale, and drink it all in, with an overtone of modern class.  A woman to
fill all your senses.
    I still remember
everything about her…her willingness; her hunger; the curve of her hip rising
from her smooth line as she lay naked on her side…the tumble of brown hair down
her back to just below her shoulders…the clean, neat lines of her nicely
trimmed 'other' hair.
    I remember so
well the swell of those beautifully mounded tits and the nicely-shaped nipples
that were just always so happy to see me and my big dick coming towards them. 
Oh fuck how I remember her pushing them together and burying my cock between
them, then dipping her chin and giving my cleft a little flick of her tongue.
Fucking God how sexy that was, and how incredibly good that little act would feel.
    Self-preservation
check; am I falling too much into the idea of her? Think about iiit…nope. Safe.
Just a trip down sex's memory lane; an appreciation of the offer on the table.
Emotional attachment is in check; ability to see and appreciate the situation
for what it is, check.
    An already
oncoming erection in my pants seals the deal. Let's do this. Let's make it a
Merry homecuming of a Christmas!
    I crack a beer, click
over to Sports Center and decide to let her sweat it out a little.  I'm sure
she probably knows that I've remained unattached as well; less attached than
she has and since she's stopped seeing that pain in the ass Rick the Dick this
situation will also lend the added advantage of topping his holiday with the
knowledge that he ain't got her.  A little satisfaction is due me for listening
to his gloating, I think.
    So yeah the call
back can wait. Sleep in nice and late tomorrow morning since it's Saturday. Let
her chew her nails overnight and sweat out the step she's taken (dirty little
habit of her, that—the chewing of the nails…which brings to mind a few other
fun little dirty habits of hers….) and then when I get damn good and ready I'll
inform her of my decision. It might not be an entirely warm and loving
Christmas, but it sure is going to be an exciting one.
    ***
    Late afternoon
Saturday and apparently my little scheme is working out just about as
predicted, with the exception of the fact that I didn't properly account for
her level of want.  There are no more messages but I have noticed a couple of
calls and clicks when the voicemail picks up. Testing the line, are we, love?
    Speaking of
tests, before I take the plunge let's double-check our own state of
well-being.  Think about it….yep, no true emotion. I mean yeah I care about her
somewhat, but no more than I care about a number of other old friends, lovers,
and acquaintances.
    I'm not a
heartless bastard, just a jilted one and I am still capable of giving a care
about a person without diving back into the depths of relationship despair. No,
it was good while it lasted but I've worked through all that and it's really
just a memory, not something I'm desperate to revive. I can't speak for her end
of things; maybe she's hoping to lure me back in with the spirit of the season
and some evergreen-scented Christmas Eve sex.  Not my problem. I'm just the
guest accepting my invitation to the party.
    Nevertheless I
am ready for a sweaty lay and a woman at my command. And rest assured that this
time I won't be quite so concerned with the "giving" as I am the
taking. You dotted that "i", honey; I just want to fuck.
    So then let's
get on with it. I've left her hanging long enough. Anything else is just a
waste of a good weekend when I could be getting my rocks off and my head blown.
Literally, I think….oh yeah she always gave good head.
    I chuckle to
myself and pick up the phone, full of hot sex memories and the imagined smell
of her in my nose, click back through the call log, then let the number dial. I
hold on for a few