“I should dance for you.” I ran my hands across his broad chest and then all the way down his front, cupping, massaging, and releasing.
“Sorry, I didn't hear you. Someone was touching my balls.”
I kissed him, enjoying the tickling sensation of the fake mustache on his upper lip, then I pulled back and performed a very unorthodox routine, half sugar plum fairy and half striptease. I performed several free spins and kicks, my body working from memory.
When I finished, I was in a soft, lace undershirt and the tiniest g-string panties that were just short of invisible.
Trevor stood at attention as I climbed onto his bed, rolled onto my back, and kicked my legs in the air like fluttering stems.
“Ma'am, I'm on duty,” he said.
“Soldier, I won't tell if you take a break.”
He looked around, hamming it up, then whispered, “The Mouse King could be anywhere. We must always be on guard.”
“Oh, I knocked him out with my shoe. He'll be out cold for at least an hour. So why don't you come over here, and put your c**k right here.” I squeezed my br**sts together.
He took off his hat and started unbuttoning the red jacket, walking toward me with his eyes trained on mine.
“Leave the mustache on,” I said.
He put hit hands on my legs and pulled them apart. “Won't it tickle when I eat your pu**y?”
I reached out and yanked the mustache off. He finished undressing, stripping off his trousers and underwear. The other soldier in the room was at attention.
I grabbed his firm c**k in my hand and milked it, tickling my fingertips on the little ridge of skin along the underside.
He pulled away from me and knelt at the foot of the bed. He grabbed my legs and shifted me down so my bu**ocks were at the edge. He didn't even take off my little g-string, but just pushed it aside with two fingers and sank his lips down onto my mound. The world around us disappeared as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his wet tongue sliding around, up and down my folds so smoothly. His breath was hot as he licked over and around my nub, flicking it and licking it, sucking at the skin along the sides.
I clutched the bedcovers in my hands and moaned in pleasure. He worked my clit, putting on pressure until I was just about over the edge, and then easing back, over and over. Finally, after an eternity of taking me there and pulling me back, he reached forward and grasped my br**sts through the thin, lace camisole, and bore down on me with his lips and tongue.
When I came, I felt like I was melting, a puddle of ecstasy. He slid in as I was coming, his c**k moving in easily on all my juices. I cried out in pleasure and the rode into me, pushing me up onto the bed as he went, both of us moving together. His shaft plunging inside me drove my pleasure to unimaginable heights, until I was whimpering and sighing, completely overwhelmed.
He stopped rocking for a moment and stroked the side of my face. “I love making you come.”
“Same,” I said, squeezing his bu**ocks.
“Would you mind if I ...” He glanced down in embarrassment.
“What? I'd do anything for you.”
“It's gross. Total guy thing, and I'm sorry to even mention it.”
“Trevor, you have to tell me what it is, and I'll be the judge of whether or not I'll do it. I kinda owe you, after you dressed up like the Nutcracker for me.”
He frowned. “That was for you? I thought that was for me.”
I squeezed my pelvic muscles around his cock. “Now what was it you wanted?”
He said, “I'd like to,” he made the motion of jerking off, “and then you-know, right on your boobs.” He made an apologetic face.
I grabbed his face and looked him in the eyes. “I'd love to do that for you.”
He grinned sheepishly and pulled out of me. I stayed lying back on the bed, and he sat astride my stomach, his soldier at attention. He was hesitant at first, touching himself and then looking around nervously.
I licked my lips, then wet one of my fingers and drew it across one of my ni**les, hardening it. His eyes grew big and he watched my hands, his own hand movements becoming more confident.
I enjoyed watching him, seeing him in pleasure, and when he did come, spurting onto my stomach and br**sts, I felt nothing but joy and satisfaction.
He grinned, saying, “Don't move,” and he grabbed some tissues from next to the bed and tidied me up. He sighed and lay down next to me. “Don't think I want to do that all the time, because I don't, but it's been sorta one of my fantasies for a while.”
“And you've never done that with a girl?” As soon as I asked, I regretted it. A girl should never ask that unless she already knows the answer.
“Never,” he said. “Except in my imagination.”
“And was it good? The real-life version?”
He kissed my neck, his stubbly chin tickling me. “Everything's good with you.”
After we cuddled for a while, I ran us a hot bath and we settled in with a plate of Christmas cookies and a bottle of wine.
We sat across from each other in the large tub, him with his knees up out of the water and me with my legs nearly straight. I tickled his chest with my feet and said, “I wish you weren't flying out of town tomorrow.”
“I'll be back in three days. No time at all.”
“Who are you seeing again? Your brother?”
“My brother-in-law. Roxie's brother.”
My heart nearly stopped beating. “Wait, you're going to see her family? Will she be there?”
“We're still friends,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I'm not dead to them, you know. I had a relationship with them, too.”
I grabbed my glass of wine and downed it. Don't be jealous, I told myself in my head. He's got to do this, maybe just this once, to get closure. Don't act like a psycho-girl.
He grabbed a gingerbread cookie from the tray and bit off its head. “Is this what you want to do to me?” he joked. “Wanna bite off my head?” He splashed to sit up straight and waved the cookie over toward my mouth. “Here, bite off my arms, it'll make you feel better.”
Something clicked in my head and all my new-found maturity ran out, just like that. I grabbed the cookie from his hand and tossed it across the room, against the tiled wall. The broken cookie bits crumbled to the ground.
“Fine, we can talk about it,” he said. “Let's have a big talk. We can talk-talk-talk about all our feelings.”
That was when I realized I wasn't such a big fan of talking about my feelings either. I leaned forward and squeezed his knee gently. “Trevor, I'm sorry I threw the cookie. Please don't stick things in my face. I don't want to fight with you. It's Christmas Eve, and you're going away for three days, and you know what? That's fine. Honest. I don't mind that much. It was just a surprise is all.”