“Oh yes, please, Axel, please . . . I need you so fucking bad,” I beg. My pussy is begging to be filled filled and fucked hard.
“Jesus Christ, Izzy, you’re fucking soaked.” He brings his hand up and I can see my juices glistening on his fingers. He licks his fingers clean before taking his rigid flesh in his hand and rubbing it against my clit. The most exquisite shocks shoot up from my core. My womb clenches and I groan loud and shamelessly. “My girl wants my dick, doesn’t she?” he asks. I nod my head; speech is beyond me now. I can feel the claws of my climax climbing up my spine; every inch of my skin is on fire.
I feel his broad head stretching my entrance before he gives a slow thrust, seating himself deep within me.
“Oh my GOD!” I scream and clench down on his dick.
He hisses and holds still and deep. “Baby, got to stop or I’m going to come right fucking now. Goddamn your tight pussy loves my dick.” He drops his head to my neck and clamps down before moving his hips.
He starts off slow, building the friction until I almost can’t take it anymore, and gradually builds up speed. Before I know it, I am screaming his name and he is slamming into my waiting body. He brings his hands down and lifts my hips up to meet each one of his powerful thrusts. My hands snake around his body and my nails bite the skin before I throw my head back and scream. I swear the house is falling around us, lights are exploding, and the world is shaking. With one more powerful thrust, I feel the warm jets of his orgasm empty into my body.
We lie there for some time while our bodies return to earth.
Rubbing my arms back and forth across his sweaty back, I kiss the side of his face. “Merry fucking Christmas,” I whisper, enjoying the feeling of his semi-hard dick moving with his laughter inside of me. Tremors are still shooting through my body.
“Merry fucking Christmas is right, Princess.”
He slowly pulls out of me and we both let in a sharp pull of air at the loss of each other. He makes quick work of cleaning me off before we get dressed and make our way down to the living room, where we set up Christmas.
I busy myself with making breakfast while he sets up the living room. He starts bringing in boxes from all over the house and, with a devilish smirk, joins me in the kitchen.
“Where did all of that come from?” I ask in awe.
“Been busy, baby,” he says sitting down and starting in on his pancakes.
“Obviously.” I smile and join him, making quick work of breakfast so we can get down to gifts.
He doesn’t stop smiling the whole time we eat, and by the time we finish, we are both sporting ridiculously happy grins.
We start with his gifts. They start off small, some new design programs for my computer I have been looking for, earrings, some barely there garments that earn a slap from me, some odds and ends things I have been raving about for the house, and finally, a large but flat package is pulled out from behind the tree. When I look at him with a question, he just gestures at the package. I walk over from the recliner I was lounging in and start to gently pull the paper off. When I finally get it off, I notice that I am looking at the back of a very large canvas of some kind. He is looking at me with patience but also a small bit of fear. I wrinkle my brow at him before turning it around.
When I see the picture looking back at me, I almost lose it. It is beautiful. The old me would have looked at this picture like I had so many times over the years and let the painful memories consume me. But now, with Axel by my side, I can look at it and smile. I can look at this picture and see the overwhelming love two young kids had for each other.
“It’s stunning, Axel. I love it.” My words are so soft they are barely audible.
“You aren’t mad, are you? You left that box of pictures out a few weeks ago and I got the idea.” He seems to be walking around on eggshells, worrying that I won’t like it—or worse that, it will cause me pain.
“God, no. It’s perfect.” And it is.
The picture is of Axel and me the day he left for boot camp. I still remember the day my mom brought it back from the store. She had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. They had framed it and given it to me the same day.
In the picture, Axel was hanging out the bus window, one hand hanging on to the window frame and the other reaching down and holding mine. You can just see his broad shoulders dressed in his camouflage and his newly shaved head. I still remember taking my father’s clippers to his silky locks the night before he left. I was standing on the tips of my toes, stretching up as tall as I could and meeting his waiting lips in a sweet kiss. I had bought a new soft yellow sundress to wear that day and it was hanging beautifully from my youthful body.