Copyright 2002 by

This is a fictional story, no elves or reindeer were injured in its creation. This story is of holiday giving between friends, young and old. If you don't like friendship, don't read it. If you don't like love, I'm sorry for you. If you are not old enough to legally read this, find your friend and have him read it to you. You can send me comments, but if you are one of those who like to send viruses to authors, it will be blocked and I will send your name to Santa as NOT NICE!

As I suspected, several of you are naughty boys, I hope Santa left you lumps of coal!

Several others have been very kind with Christmas wishes and I thank you for your generous praise.

I hope your storm did not ruin your Christmas. I watched with interest Mayor Jennings of Albany and stories from Western KY. Several correspondents from those locals sent me nice messages of Holiday cheer.


Stocking Stuffer Part 4 Boxing Day

We cleaned up dinner and filled the fridge with leftovers, then grabbing more cocoa adjourned to our chair. I put a DVD in and we watched a movie, or at least we watched the title of a movie. I think we were both asleep wrapped in our bears before the first scene.

Waking sometime later, I repeated the now familiar bedtime ritual; carrying Stevie to the waterbed and rolling him in, performing my ablutions and then crawling in beside him. He quickly scooted over and wrapped himself around me again and off to dreamland we both went.

I awoke with a ragging hardon demanding some sort of attention. Stevie was sprawled across the bed again, this time my problem was probably caused by the fact that his hand was gripping my manhood even as he slept. How he managed that I didn't begin to understand, but it sure was driving me wild!

Lying back and enjoying the feelings washing over my body, I decided to tough it out and stay still. Slowly, gently, Stevie's hand began to squeeze and release my throbbing stick. I watched, fascinated as his other hand slowly snaked up the bed and soon his thumb was firmly planted in his mouth. As he began sucking his thumb, I saw his grasping of my penis seemed in tune with the slurping noises coming from him. Soon he was in full suck and really giving his thumb a workout. Wow, that must be some dream he was having, because it was turning into the most erotic wet dream I had ever experienced, and I was fully awake.

My dick was literally flooding my public area with precum and as he began a wild series of grasps and sucks, he thrust his hips down hard into the waterbed and cried out his trademark Mphhhh, Mphhhh, Mphhhh! as he hit his own Nirvana. Jerking his hand along with his hips, he moved up my cock from the base to the head and the involuntary twitching of his fingers across the corona of my dick head, along with the fantastical eroticism of his orgasm, sent me over the edge and my balls shot the biggest load I have ever felt course through the inside of my dick.

I was covered in cum. It ran in huge rivers from my softening dick across my belly and up my chest. I don't think I had shot that far in years! It was almost like I was sixteen again and could put the second shot over my head! Before I could think of doing anything about it, Stevie, still asleep, scooted his whole body over and took his customary place draped across my body, this time cheek planted firmly against my chest in its own little cum puddle. Giving me one more Mphhhh he was cuddled in for the duration. I couldn't bear to wake my angel and just hugged him close and lay there, actually wallowing in afterglow, love and contentment.

A few minutes later I felt him stir and looked down to see his eyes flutter open.

"Hi," he whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too, Tiger," I squeezed back.

Sitting up a little and then glancing at my cum coated stomach and chest, he reached one hand up and wiped his still wet cheek and said, "Darn, you did it without me! I wanted to make you do that!"

"Believe me, babe. You had a definite hand in this."

"Really? Way kewl! I had a fantastical dream about you!"

"I think it might have been more than just a dream, babe." I giggled

"Okay, but next time you have to promise to wake me up! I want to really have a hand in it," and he rolled on top of me in the traditional 'I win, you're pinned' position. "Promise!" he demanded.

"Uncle!" I cried. "I promise, I promise."

"Great." He jumped off me and out of the bed pulling on my arm. "Come on, let's shower and make breakfast. I'm starving!"

Stumbling behind him to the bathroom, I started the shower as he filled to toilet with his stored stream. Stepping into the shower behind me, I heard him gasp as he watched me unleash my own pee stream back toward the tub drain.

"You pee in the shower?" he gasped.

"Sure babe, it all goes down to the same place."

"Wow, I never thought of that. Can I pee here too?"

"Let 'er rip if there's any left!" I laughed.

"Kewl!" he said and thrusting his hips forward, he turned purple trying to force something out. Suddenly a short stream shot out under great pressure and instead of heading for the drain, it blasted directly into my chest and then dribbled down and across my dick.

"Oh, Gawd," he cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" and he crumpled to the bottom of the tub, sobbing and cowering in mass of quivering, terrified boy. He was so scared I could swear the scent in the bathroom changed as his fear exuded from the pores of his tiny body.

I dropped beside him, mindless of the water cascading across my back, and gathered him into what I hoped was a calming embrace. "Its okay, babe. Its Okay, Nothings the matter." I held and rocked him for several minutes before he gradually came out of his paralysis. Gently lifting him up, I softly shampooed and scrubbed his entire body and then stood him behind me and quickly finished my own washing. Turning the water off, I grabbed the towels and wrapped him up, then dried myself. He was still practically catatonic, so I just gave him a quick pat down and then picking him up, I stooped and grabbed our bear blanket and headed for the study. Setting him in our chair I started the fireplace and then turned back and lifted him into my lap, wrapping him up, fleece side in. Snuggling him close I continued to rock and coo sweet nothings into his hair.

The scent of fear was gone, and I knew it was a just matter of time and we'd work through whatever had him so terrified. For the moment, I melted into him and lost myself in the rocking, comforting and the wonderful smells of my study, my boy and our bears.

He was finally settled and breathing normally, so I risked a little squeeze and lifted his chin. "Okay, sweetie? Ready to make so breakfast?"

He just nodded his head giving me a soulful look, but began to climb down, holding his bears tightly around him. Looking at me sitting there naked, he giggled and shyly said, "No bacon, today?"

"No, we're going to make pancakes and maple syrup."

"Kewl, he quietly replied, "I've never had pancakes."

I was going to kill her! How could an eleven or twelve year old have been made to watch some guy fuck his mother and yet never have the pleasure of tasting pancakes and maple syrup!

"Well, come on," I reached out for his hand. "You may be used to running around naked, but I need some shorts on at least."

He giggled, but followed me to the bedroom and when I pointed him at the drawer, he picked out a pair of red boxers I'd gotten from somewhere. I don't think I had ever worn them, but he knew what he wanted, because he also found a green t shirt and had me Ho, Ho, Ho red and green as quick as you please. He took my hand again, and led me to the kitchen. Draping the bears across his chair, he shyly asked, "What can I do?"

We spent the next hour mixing, fixing, and frying and soon we had a huge plate of pancakes in the oven. He set the table and even found a decorated pinecone somewhere as a center piece, then we sat to our feast and his eyes were huge as he saw me serve him a full stack. He took a tentative little bite, watching how I used the fork to slice of a piece. His eyes had been big at the size of the stack, but they doubled in size as the wonderful taste of buttermilk cakes, butter and pure Vermont maple syrup spread throughout his mouth. "Mphhhh," he sighed and soon the entire stack had been devoured.

Pushing his plate away again, he sighed, "That was the greatest. I never knew something could taste so full inside my whole mouth! I think they may be better than bacon!"

"The good thing is, its not a contest," I remarked. "Breakfast can be something different and wonderful everyday."

We cleaned up the kitchen and although he still wasn't his lively self, he was certainly more recovered. When we were all done, he grabbed his bear blanket and me and led me back to the study. Fairly pushing me into the chair, he climbed back in my lap and we just cuddled for a couple of minutes.

"Nick?" he asked, "Can I put the stockings back on?"

"Sweetie, I'd love to have you stuffing my, I mean OUR, stockings." I replied.

He jumped down and scurried to the bedroom, coming back with them in his hands. "Put them on me please?" he asked, looking at his feet, not at me.

"Sure, babe," and I lifted him in my lap and gently lifted and drew a stocking on each of his perfect little feet.

Hugging him into his bears and my embrace, I risked, "Want to tell me about it sweetie?"

"Oh, Nick, I was so scared. It was so stupid, but they used to make me so terrified. One of mom's boyfriends used to bring a couple of his buddies over. I thought their motorcycles were so cool, I used to just stare at them in the garage. Then one day I just couldn't stand it. I reached out and touched one. It felt so cool and strong. He came in just then and yelled at me and grabbed me by the hair. He was yelling and screaming and his friends were coming out too. He dragged me into the bathroom and threw me in the tub. Then they all just started peeing all over me. He was shouting that 'I was a no good little faggot' and that I was to never get near his bike again. He was showing me that the only thing I was good for was a piss bucket, and that if I ever got near his bike again, he'd take me out in the street and everybody would piss on me like the dirty little piss bucket I was. They just pissed and pissed and I was in the tub and crying and scared. Then one of then grabbed me by the hair and held my head up while he pissed in my face. It hurt my eyes and he made me open my mouth and he pissed inside. He kept yelling, 'Piss bucket, drink it, piss bucket, we'll teach you to think you're good enough to touch my bike!.' I thought I would drown, but I knew I better not, I didn't know what else they might do. Finally, he just tossed me back in the tub and they went out. I heard them ride away, but I just laid there in the tub till it got dark. I crawled to my room and cried myself to sleep. I was terrified when ever they came back. He'd always seem to get between me and my room when he first came inside and he'd always slap my butt as I tried to get to my room and he'd laugh, 'Hey, piss bucket, ready for another drink?' His friends would roar with laughter, but they never made me do it again. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to piss on you. I always just fuck up. I didn't mean it. You don't hate me do you?" and he dissolved into soul wrenching sobs holding on to me with a death grip.

"No babe, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I love you, I love everything about you. You're safe and warm, just relax and let it go. No one will ever treat you like that again." We rocked and hugged and he sobbed and cried it all out and then I could feel him totally relax as he fell asleep, again in my embrace.

He didn't sleep more than an hour this time, just enough to drive the demons away. When he stirred, he looked up at me and grinned, "Thanks, Nick, I love you. Can I play the GameCube now."

"Sure, sweetie, whatever you want."

"'K," he said and hopped down to his place by the fire; firing up whatever those little demons on the screens were. I watched the little things hop around and jump here and there with no apparent pattern, except that his body gyrations and the occasional teen speak told me he knew what he was doing. Remind me to ask him what those things are!

"Hey, babe, you keep playing. I'll go fix us a couple of turkey sandwiches."

"Mphhhh," (what did I expect!)

I fumed as I fixed the sandwiches. I remember those cycle guys. They had been coming around just last July and August. In fact a I remember a time Stevie had been working in my yard when they rode up and he had gotten a panicked look and just disappeared. Now I knew why. I wish I could have that day over again now. I'd kill those bastards!

"Hey, is the sandwich done?" Stevie snuck up behind me asking as his arms snaked around my waist.

"Sure, Tiger, let's eat."

"Great!" he said grabbing a plate and moving to the table. "Any Coke to go with this?"

"Nope, sorry, that's on our shopping list. In fact let's make a big list and head out this afternoon."

"Kewl,"" he managed to blurt between bites.

We sat at the table and made a laundry list of grocery store items. Normal things he knew about (Coke, chips, milk) and things he said he's never tried (popcorn, steak, fish sticks) and of course bacon. I added toothbrush and some other necessary, but not very boy important things.

I asked if he could stand to put his jeans and beat up tennies on one more time while we went shopping for the groceries. He agreed , I think somewhat reluctantly, but realized if he wanted to go, he had to have some clothes on.

We cleaned up the kitchen and went into the garage. Raising the garage door, I surveyed the snow drifts and decided we had been fortunate. The wind had more or less scoured the driveway and we had just a few small drifts. Nothing the Jeep couldn't handle. Climbing in, I buckled Stevie up and put it in 4 wheel low and off we went.

The streets were a mixture of good and bad. I think the storm had many people staying at home, so the traffic wasn't terrible. I headed for the mall and we parked near the Marshall Fields back exit. Walking in, Stevie was agog. He whispered that he had never been in the mall before and clung to my hand. I walked him through the cosmetic counters, just to see all the sparkly glittery glitz that they do so well. We headed through the store and out into the mall and across to the Ayers store.

I knew I had to dress my Tiger from the inside out and I had to do it in stages to keep from embarrassing him or a store clerk. Taking him directly to the boys department, I parked him briefly in front of the MTV style video display and I quickly purchased a package of boxers and a three pack of sox. I guessed at size ten for the boxers, because he seemed a little scrawny, so I hoped for the best. Leading him back out of the store, I watched as he tried to take in everything. He was still entranced by all the flash that only American retail can do so well. Heading back into Marshall Fields, I went towards the men's section where I grabbed a pair of chino's near my size and headed for the changing room. Leading Stevie inside, I sat him down on the bench and took out the underwear and sox. Talking to him the whole time, I managed to get his shoes and jeans off and the underwear and sox on and then redressed him in the jeans and shoes. Leaving the changing room, I handed the chinos back to the clerk and told him no thanks.

We headed out into the mall again and this time turned down to the Foot Locker. He was still clinging to my hand and gaping at all the things around him. I watched as boys several years younger than he went barreling by laughing and running and obviously at home in the retail environment. I silently cursed his mother one more time for the normal things she had denied my sweetie and the abnormal things she had forced on him.

Entering Foot Locker, I lead Stevie to the basic boys section and tried to get him to make some type of choice. Of course the overwhelming range of choices had him on full overload. I curse myself for not having done more homework and found out his favorite color at least. I finally decided on the divid and conquer strategy and took him over near the t-shirts and got him to pick a color. Leaving him standing there, I quickly went back to the shoes and picked three with that color and presented them to him for his choice. It seemed easier with a more limited range and he quickly decided on one pair. Traipsing back to the shoe wall, we found a clerk who sized him and quickly came back with the right choice. Seeing his sideways glance at Stevie's old shoes, I clapped him on the back and asked him to package the old ones, we'd wear the new shoes. As we moved to check out, on a whim I grabbed a bright blue backpack and stuffed the old shoes and our t shirt purchase inside. Slinging it over one shoulder, I grabbed my stunned boy and back we headed to Marshall Fields.

Directly to Boys this time, I found a clerk and using "my visiting nephew from Florida" as the story, we began the guessing game of sizes for pants and shirts. The clerk was very good, and we had the jeans size down after just two tries. Picking two pair of red tab Levi's, I had the clerk find us one red polo shirt, one blue dress shirt and and a blue pair of sweats. We also selected some outdoor wear including coat, hat and gloves.

The clerk was really into it by now, I guess we were probably the only people in the department buying, every other clerk seemed to just be taking returns. Stevie was acquiescent throughout, just basically following, trying things on and shyly modeling. With a quick little whispered exchange, the clerk came to me and suggested I have a seat for a few minutes. He and Stevie wanted to look at a couple of other items. I was more than happy to sit, and watched amazed that Stevie took his hand and they disappeared into the racks. Coming back a little later, they were giggling together and seemed thick as thieves. Stevie had on a great pair of cords and a super flannel shirt, the clerk put his old jeans and t shirt and jacket in a big shopping bag and getting Stevie to pirouette, proclaimed, "Viola!". I was so glad to see Stevie relaxing that I profusely thanked the clerk and began the check out process. I had no idea what I was in for, but what good is money unless you spend it? I wouldn't deny my boy anything, and even though I raised an eyebrow at the tab, I signed the credit card slip and asked the clerk for his card. I figured we'd be back once Stevie figured out what we had forgotten.

Even under his new coat, new clothes and several full shopping bags, Stevie seemed to float out of the store and to the Jeep. I was considerably more weighed down, but watching my boy blossom was worth every ounce.

Once home, we made room in the closet and dresser for Stevie to have his own space and he insisted on unpacking each purchase and carefully putting them away. When we were down to the final sack he asked me to make some cocoa while he finished. I happily headed for the kitchen and fired up the micro. Shortly Stevie came in bearing his old clothes like they were some sort of contaminated toxic waste.

"Can we throw these out?" he asked.

"Okay," I replied, "but you have to promise that with the old clothes you'll also throw out the fear and as many bad memories as possible."

"Oh, Nick, you say the most wonderful things!" he cried as he dropped the bundle and rushed into my arms. This time I think the tears were tears of relief and joy.

Picking him and the clothes up, we went back to the garage and he watched solemnly as I ceremoniously dumped the pile in the trash with a stentorian, "Begone Demons!"

Grabbing him up again, I tickled and said, "Come on Tiger, let's go show this old man how to kill some of those little purpley things on the GameCube."

"Yes, No, Stop, Don't Stop, Okay, Gawd!" he squirmed all the way to the study.

Needless to say, I didn't kill anything but time. I'm hopeless at these games! It'll serve my wonderkid editor right if I prove I can't learn a thing; right after I prove to my publisher that the wonderkid is the best editor on the planet!

Our evening wound slowly down until Stevie ended up asleep again in my lap. This time when I carried him to the bedroom I had to get him awake enough to stand while I undressed him. He sleepily lifted each arm and foot as requested and then dissolved into giggles as I pulled down the new corduroy pants to reveal the tiniest little bikini briefs covered with little red hearts, "True Love" emblazoned across his little buns.

"Why, you little scamp," I laughed, "When did you have time to come up with these?"

"Merry Christmas," he giggled, "It's the best present I could think of to get you."

Comments to Let me know if you'd like more of this Christmas story.

Hope you weathered your part of this storm and that your Christmas was full of Love and Peace.