I joked, as I handed her the phone, “It’s
definitely a grand f—–g station.”
She laughed as she asked, not politely,
“What?” After a pause, as I tapped her lip
with my c–k, she asked, annoyed, “Are you
serious?” She did one quick suck as she
continued her conversation. “Yes, I do have
some. Come up to my room.”
She tossed the phone on the bed again and
really began grinding on Mom’s face as she
said, frustrated, “My prudish daughter is on
her way up.”
“She isn’t part of the lesbian playtime too?”
I asked, disappointed.
“Sheisan eager c–t licker,” Auntie said,
close to coming. “But she only eats fish, if
you get my drift.”
“Oh,” I said, as I realized I needed to get
dressed. “So she wouldn’t care for some
“Only c–k she takes is a strap-on,” she
revealed, the visual in itself pretty hot, as
she got off my Mom. “I can’t get off when
I’m in a rush.”
Mom sat up, looking confused, her make-
up all messed up. “You didn’t come?”
“Emily is on her way up to get some stuff
for that time of month,” Carol explained, as
she got dressed.
“Oh,” Mom said, getting off the bed too.
I said, “You may want to go to the
washroom to freshen up.”
“Does my face look like I’ve just had a c–t
on my face grinding and messing up my
make-up?” Mom asked playfully.
I laughed, loving this shocking new Mom,
“Yes, exactly so.”
I was watching television, Carol was
redoing her make-up and Mom was indeed
in the washroom when the knock came.
I won’t bore you… she had no clue and the
rest of the time until the reception was anti-
climactic… literally.
The reception was as weird as the wedding
and just as seasonal.
There was a photo booth with Santa, there
were three living reindeer (wearing manure
catchers since they were indoors), and
there was mistletoe everywhere… which
was pretty cool. I was kissed seven times
before I sat down: most were just quick
pecks, but Aunt Carol shoved her tongue in
my mouth. If it weren’t for the crazy
afternoon, I likely would have used the
mistletoe to flirt with a hot redhead who
seemed to be checking me out… but now I
was simply looking forward to when I could
f–k Mom or Aunt Carol again.
As I pretended to listen to boring speeches,
each one a parody of a Christmas song, I
watched as Aunt Carol s—-d on a candy
cane from another table imagining it was
my c–k (the table was full of them, candy
canes not c—s, and the centerpiece was a
gingerbread man). I felt a foot between my
legs again… this time knowing it was Mom.
I glanced over to Dana many times, and
wondered if she was available too… she
was sitting right beside Mom.
Then the meal was served, which was a
traditional Christmas dinner which made
me happy… especially since I had a nylon-
clad foot in my crotch at all times.
Dad asked, “How was it to be with the
ladies all afternoon?”
I answered honestly, “Educational.”
“Boring, huh? I said you should have come
with us,” he said.
I wanted to say I was happy I’d come with
the women but shrugged, “One afternoon
with those teasing ladies and I’ll never be
the same.”
“I imagine,” he laughed.
“You had a lot of fun, didn’t you, Wade?”
Mom asked, rubbing her foot up and down
on me.
“Yeah, I had a blast,” I quipped back, the
metaphor lost on Dad.
It wasn’t lost on Mom as she responded
right back, “A double blast.”
Dad looked confused, but didn’t ask,
knowing from long experience when Mom
didn’t make sense, asking only made it
more confusing.

“Definitely,” I agreed. I glanced over at Dana
with intent and said, “Sometime soon I’d
like to try a triple blast.”
Mom saw what, or ratherwhoI was getting
at and nodded, “I imagine that’s a distinct
“You two are speaking a different
language,” Dad joked.
Mom explained without explaining by just
saying, “You had to be there.”
“I guess so,” he said, and we resumed
Gary, Dana’s husband, said, “Next time
you’ll need to come with us.”
Gross, I thought to myself, his offer
sounding to me like a circle jerk.
Dana joined in the conversation, “Dear, just
because you love playing with your balls all
day doesn’t mean Wade does.”
“Dana!” Gary gasped.
“Isn’t that what you do?” Dana questioned
with a big smirk on her face.
Mom added, “They like to have their big
sticks in their hands, too.”
“Heather!” Dad now gasped.
“What?” Mom continued. “As far as I can
tell, you just spent three hours away from
us with other men so you could all swing
your big sticks around and chase each
other’s balls down the fairway.”
Dad shook his head.
“What? Am I wrong?” Mom asked.
“I refuse to answer; I’ll only dig myself a
deeper hole,” Dad said, knowing he was
losing this one.


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