A Christmas Reunion

Although this story is about Christmas of 2001, it actually started the year before. My wife, Debbie, and I had been married for about nine years at that time. We’d been together for about twelve having dated for three years before getting married. We have two children, and they were ages nine and three in October 2000 when this story begins.

Deb and I had been facing a couple of challenges in our marriage and I was at a loss for how to deal with them. Though we’d been together for that three years before we married, we had both changed somewhat after our first child was born and after the second things really were different. Of course, some of the changes were physical to us. I had changed from a job that had me on my feet and active most of the day to a job that allowed me to work at home sitting on my butt. The thirty pounds I’d gained coupled with my thinning hair and the gray showing up in my goatee didn’t help much. Deb had gained weight with both kids, but had lost most of it right after the birth of our first. After our second was born the weight stayed with her and she had expressed some insecurities about being forty to fifty pounds overweight.

Though our sex life had recovered well after the birth of our first, it completely fell apart after the birth of our second. There were many reasons for this and I had tried to deal with them as best I knew how to no avail. Part of the problem was opportunity. With two kids in the house, our chances to actually have sex were limited. By the time we were alone after the kids were in bed, often we were too tired. Added to the fact that neither of us felt attractive for the other, we were in sexually dire straights with no obvious solution. To be honest, we hadn’t even identified some of the problems.

My attempts to resolve the problems and respark our love life failed. I took to writing erotica for my wife, creating tales about all of her most unusual or kinky fantasies. In those stories she enjoyed sex with multiple men, drank cum like a hungry slut (she really never let me cum in her mouth), was a total exhibitionist and talked dirty with the best of them. In all of the stories, to alleviate her insecurities, I made sure she’d been working out and lost the weight she was unhappy with so that her mental images would be pleasing for her. When she expressed some enjoyment of the stories, I wrote more. They sat for months unread.

Her favorite fantasy was to fuck another guy while I watched, and the idea certainly turned me on, so I began to speak more frequently about it when we were in bed together and often our sex was quite pleasurable if we talked while we fucked. Soon though this also failed and we were back to square one: totally predictable, almost boring, sex. It got so bad that she stopped showing me any physical affection at all – to include even pats or hugs – for fear that I would take it wrong and pursue a sexual interlude with her. This complete lack of affection left me somewhat akin to a love-starved puppy, which didn’t help my behavior.

It all culminated in October 2000 when I moved out. At home I felt unloved, unwanted, unappreciated and unattractive. I was grumpy all the time and it was hurting my kids because they didn’t understand why dad was also so mean. My wife and I barked at each other constantly and it finally reached a point where I felt we’d all be happier if I no longer lived there. For the first few weeks after I moved out, Deb and I tried marriage counseling. We knew we had some communication problems and we further identified some issues we had with prioritizing each other in our family lives. The kids always came first followed by work, house, pets and friends. We never put each other ahead of everything else. Soon though, even the marriage counseling failed. Within three months of me moving out, we stopped seeing the counselor and I was sure that we were on our way toward divorce.

With nothing better to do with my time, I worked a lot, saved money, and exercised. My right hand had become my sexual partner and it was enough – at least for the time being. Every weekend I got to see my kids and as the weeks passed I realized that Debbie must have started working out and dieting too. She was losing weight and looked more fit each time I saw her. I wondered if she paid enough attention to my appearance to realize that I was doing the same?

When we’d been apart for about a year, I got an email from her saying that we needed to meet for lunch. I was worried because I felt sure she wanted to see me so that she could serve me with papers for a legal separation working toward a divorce. In our entire time apart she’d never suggested that we have lunch, dinner, or any other kind of social meeting. Our only communications had been about when I could see the kids and what was going on in their lives. Deb and I seemed to make a point of not discussing each other’s lives in any way beyond the kids. So anyway, I agreed to the lunch and we met in mid-October 2001.

When I saw her at the restaurant she looked pretty good. I could tell she’d lost quite a bit of weight and the clothes she was wearing showed off her figure more than she ever had when we’d been together. She’d always complained about tight jeans – preferring baggy jeans instead – and she rarely wore a shirt that showed off her curves. For our lunch meeting she was dressed differently. The jeans she had on looked as if she’d had to Vaseline the insides of them to get them on: they looked like they’d been spray-painted onto her. The sweater she had on wasn’t wool (‘cause she’s allergic to it) but it had that look and fit her snuggly. It appeared to caress her while she walked and the thought began a stirring in my pants that I hadn’t felt in quite some time. She’d cut her hair shorter than I’d ever seen it and moved with a confidence that I hadn’t seen in her since long before we were married. My first thought was that obviously being away from me had done her some good.

After she sat down we exchanged small talk until the waiter took our orders and then we made some more small talk until our food came. Before starting in on her fajitas she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and I watched as she walked away. I couldn’t see any panty lines and I knew she hated thongs, so I was wondering what she had on under the jeans.

When she got back, as we ate our food, she got to the heart of why she’d wanted to meet me for lunch. This is paraphrased, but the jist of it was:

“We’ve been apart for about a year now and though there have been some positive changes in my life, I don’t feel complete. I do love you and I miss having you at home and the kids would be much happier if you were living there with us. So what this is about is me asking you to come back to us. For us to be husband and wife again and parents together for our children.”

“How come it’s taken a year for you to decide to have this talk with me?” I asked her. I was confused. I loved her with all my heart but I didn’t want to move home just to have things be the way they were before I’d left.

“It’s taken me this long to become who I was happy being again,” she replied. I thought I understood what she meant, but I guess I wouldn’t really know unless I moved back home. She continued. “The thing is, I know you love me. You always have. I know that you’ll enjoy who I’ve grown to become even more than you ever loved who I was before we were married and while we were married.” She paused and looked down at her food for a minute before going on. “But I’ve made some changes in my life that will affect our marriage and I want you to be sure that you’re comfortable with them before we recommit to our future.”

Now I was even more confused. “Changes? What kind of changes?” I asked.

“Some of my outlooks have changed,” she answered. “Some of how I look at myself and relate to the world around me.” She smiled and her eyes twinkled. “I’m pretty sure the personal changes I’ve made will make our marriage stronger, but I want you to have the option to stay or go depending on how you feel about it.”

“So what are you suggesting?” I asked. “A trial period of moving back home? That’ll just cause more problems for the kids if it doesn’t work out.”

She took a deep breath before answering and looked like she was climbing a mountain as she did. “I’ve made arrangements for the kids to spend Christmas Eve at my parents’ house,” she said. “I want us to spend all of that day together, and attend a party I’ve been invited to that evening together, and you can stay the night at the house if you want to after the day and evening.” Again she met my eyes and hers looked unsure but serious. “If you want to stay, then we’ll go to my parents’ together on Christmas morning. If not, you can go back to your apartment and I’ll go up to my folks’.”

I thought about what she’d said for a few minutes and pondered all the possibilities – the implications that existed for the future of our marriage. I was happy that she saw hope for us, but still confused as to why it took her so long to come to me about it. Realizing that the time didn’t matter, I gave her my answer. “What time do you want me at the house Christmas Eve morning?”

“I’ll be home from the gym about ten,” she said. I didn’t even know she’d joined a gym though I’d noticed her higher level of fitness. “The kids are going to my parents’ the night of the 23rd, so you can meet me at the house between ten and eleven if you’d like. We can go to lunch after I’ve cleaned up.”

Half-joking, and half-hoping for some sex for several reasons, I asked, “Do you want me there promptly at ten so I can help you get clean?” She smiled a big smile and as her eyes twinkled she replied, “Be there waiting at ten and maybe you can help me get more messy before I take my shower.” The tone of her voice and the look on her face made the message loud and clear: I was invited to be there waiting so that we could enjoy a bout of sex before she got in the shower. The question lingering in the back of my mind was whether or not it would be the same-old same-old predictable sex? Or would her hunger built over the period of that year make her more exciting and energetic? I’d unfortunately just have to wait the next two months to find out.

“I have just one question before you leave,” I said feeling pretty bold. She just raised her eyebrows as if to say, “yes?” “What are you wearing under the jeans?” I asked her. I doubted it was thongs, but I couldn’t figure out what underwear she’d have on that would show no lines.

She smiled at me for a moment with that devilish twinkle in her eye before answering. “I’m not wearing anything under the jeans,” she replied. Before I could say anything else, she said she’d be in touch to confirm our arrangement and then she stood up and left. Watching her walk away, with her sexy ass encased in those tight jeans, and thinking about the fact that she was naked beneath them left me sitting there with an erection and nothing to do with it – at least not in the restaurant. I knew what I’d be doing when I got back to my apartment.

For the next two months I worked out harder than ever before. I figured that, if nothing else, if we only had the one day and night together, at least she’d see what she was going to miss if I decided not to stay. I had dropped almost thirty-five pounds since we’d separated and my fitness level was exceptionally higher. Humorously, having lost weight seemed to add length to my dick. In reality, it did since some of the fat I’d lost was around the base of my manhood and that meant more was sticking out. Instead of the 6.5” my wife would get from her “old” husband, she’d be getting about 7.5” from the new. I wondered if it would make a difference in whether or not she wanted me to stay? I reminded myself that she’d already said she wanted me back. She missed me and felt it would be better for our children. We were still in love – but had we changed ourselves physically, emotionally and mentally enough to be happy together? That remained to be seen.

The morning of December 24th, 2001 found me waking with an amazing erection, and not wanting things to happen to fast at Deb’s house, I took matters in hand before I got in the shower. It took me all of about five minutes to stroke myself to orgasm as I envisioned my wife’s newly trimmed body riding on top of me or writhing beneath me. To be honest, I was so horny I got hard when the wind blew, so I knew that no matter how she looked naked or what her attitude about sex might be, I’d have no problem performing. The lingering concern in the back of my mind was still whether or not we were both different enough to be happy together for the long haul? I put that thought aside as I showered and dressed for the day. I made sure that I shaved my cheeks and chin smooth, while neatly trimming my moustache. Debbie had always enjoyed me having a shaven scrotum, so I tended to that in the shower and then lotioned up my smooth nuts and applied small drops of cologne in the creases between my balls and my thighs. At least it would smell good for her if she decided to go there. I didn’t want to over dress for our day together, but I didn’t want to be under dressed if she decided to take me to the party she’d mentioned scheduled for that evening, so I selected a pair of slacks and a long-sleeve polo shirt. I pulled on a pair of nearly-new walking shoes, grabbed my coat and said goodbye to my apartment. With any luck, I’d be moving out of it sometime in the next few days.

During the almost hour long drive to Deb’s, my mind focused more on the potential for sex than it did on the hope for the future. Over the course of the preceding year I’d come to believe that there was no long-term hope for us and that all we might ever have would be mutual sexual gratification when we got tired of masturbating. I wasn’t sure what she’d been doing to relieve her needs over that year’s time frame, but since she’d never seemed to need sex as much as I did and masturbating had taken care of my needs adequately, I figured she’d been giving her vibrator/dildo a good workout.

I got to the house about 9:45 and saw an envelope taped to the door. Inside was a key and a short note from her. It read: “In case you get here before I do, here’s the key. Let yourself in and have a drink if you want. I should be home by 10:15. I look forward to seeing you.” I used the key and entered the house. It felt odd to be inside of it after having been gone for so long. Nothing much had changed. The kitchen still looked the same with a few minor decorative changes. From the spare refrigerator in the laundry room I grabbed a coca-cola and made myself comfortable at the kitchen table. Turning on the small television that was on the counter, I popped the top on my soda and watched some of the news.

At about 10:05 I heard her truck pull up in the driveway and I stood to look out the laundry room window that I could see out of through the kitchen door. There was my wife, grabbing a gym bag off of the back seat of her truck and coming toward the house. She was dressed in a pair of black tight pants that looked liked a second skin on her, and a baggy gray sweatshirt that was a couple sizes too big for her. It took me a minute to realize that the sweatshirt was one we’d gotten for her during a summer vacation in years past and it was now too big because of the weight she’d lost.

She looked happy as she bounded up the half-flight of back stairs to the deck and was smiling as she opened the door that I’d left unlocked. She knew I was there because of my car and she knew I was inside waiting since her envelope was gone. Stepping into the house she saw me, smiled, said, “Hi,” and then closed the door, locking it behind her.

“Hi,” I said back, but I had no clue what to do after that. She had made it clear that I was invited to have sex with her before she showered, but that was two months ago and a lot can change in two months. I wasn’t sure how to proceed or even if she still had the same interests.

Stepping over to stand in front of me as I was still sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, she bent over and gave me a kiss. After a year away I was expecting, at most, a quick peck to say hello. I was shaken to the core as her mouth closed on mine, her lips opened and her tongue forced its way into my mouth. The kiss was aggressive and beyond passionate. Her hands held my shoulders and neck as she crushed her mouth against me – her lips and tongue seemingly consuming mine – as if she was reaching into my heart and taking it out as energy through the kiss. When she broke the kiss and stood back up I was breathing heavy and at a loss for anything to say. I still didn’t know what she wanted me to do though it was obvious that she hadn’t changed her mind about the sex.

As I sat there bewildered she pulled her sweatshirt off over her head, revealing a sweat-stained t-shirt beneath it. The t-shirt was much smaller than the sweatshirt and stopped just below her waist. She pulled that off too and stepped out of her tennis shoes at the same time. “What are you doing?” I asked incredulously. The last thing I ever expected was for my inhibited conservative wife to start stripping in the kitchen if we were going to have sex. For sure she’d have led me to the bedroom and made sure the blinds were pulled and door closed before she began getting undressed. That was what I remembered. Here we were in the kitchen with the blinds open and she was stripping down as if she didn’t care.

“I’m getting naked,” she replied as she continued to undress. “You should too, ‘cause I want to fuck.” I was blown away but not so out of it that I couldn’t comply. Recognizing a good thing, I stood up and began undressing as quickly as I could. She was naked before I was and helped me out of my pants as I kicked off my shoes. With both of us naked I was expecting some more kisses accompanied by some hugs and caressing, but once again she blew me away.

Planting her hands on my chest she pushed me backwards so that I sat back down in the chair. My manhood was pointing skyward and she smiled at how erect I was. Without another word, kiss, caress or anything else, she straddled me in the chair, grabbed my length and lowered herself so that she could rub the swollen knob of my cock between the wet lips of her sex. Looking down I saw that her pubic thatch was trimmed short and recognized another difference in my sexy wife. A year had done a lot as I was just beginning to learn.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned as she licked her lips. When I looked up at her face, I saw that her eyes were closed and I surrendered myself to heaven as she further lowered her body, impaling her clutching pussy onto my erection. She took half of my cock in the first down stroke, then moved up some and back down for more. It took her only three up and down motions before she had me buried to the balls. When she was fully seated she began to rotate her hips, putting her hands on my shoulders and pulling my head into her chest. My mouth opened as she guided me forward and closed onto her very erect left nipple. Another moan escaped her throat as she began to pump up and down on me, riding me while she enjoyed my lips and tongue on her nipple.

“Oooh,” she said with a giggle. “You’ve got more to offer than you did before.” Those words were accompanied by a hard downward push from her body, which I thrust up against. Together we mated so hard that I could feel my cockhead banging against her cervix.

“I lost some weight,” was all I could manage to say.

“I like it,” she cooed, riding up and then back down hard again. “It really feels good when you get in that deep.” The words gave way to moans and groans, gasps and sighs as we moved together. I thrust up and down as best I could but most of the pleasure came from my sensual wife as she rode herself up and down on my length, all the way up until only the swollen head remained in her hot tunnel, and then back down until her weight forced rivulets of her hot juices to run down my smoothly shaven balls.

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