Stocking Stuffer 6

This is a fictional story 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.

I can't tell you how touching the hundreds of emails have been. If you have a story you like, it really, really, really makes a difference to the authors if they get even short messages of support. I started with what I thought was a cute idea that some might enjoy. Your heartfelt acceptance of Stephy and Nick has been an inspiration and wonderfully unexpected Christmas gift to me. I can only say THANKS.

I was surprised today with a wonderful visit from my sons and grandsons and various friends. I apologize for how short this part is, but I thought it was important to get this part of the story told.

Namaste!

Stocking Stuffer Part 6

I think the makers of Sominex and other sleep aides are trying to keep a simple fact of nature from most people. The fact? Nothing puts one to sleep as quickly, and as peacefully, as a ball crushing, butt cheek clenching, mind blowing orgasm. Given the depth of the emotion and the strength of our mutual blasts, Stephy and I were out for the count practically before our breathing returned to normal.

When I next awoke, Stephy was draped across me in his normal beginning sleep position. My bladder was in control this time, so I eased out from underneath my Tiger and took care of my business. Once relieved, I know I heard the coffee pot call my name, so I stumbled into the kitchen and got it satisfied and perking away. Trying to decide what was next, I was surprised by small arms around my waist and a sleepy headed little boy saying, "Mphhhh, Nick, I Love You."

I was, of course, dead meat. What can one possibly say to to express the depth of feelings, the range of emotion and the shear joy in being greeted with those words. I couldn't think of any response that was adequate, so I sagely replied, "Thanks sweetie, I love you too."

Lifting my boy into my arms, I realized he was still sporting his morning pee wood, and he seemed a little sticky in some very delicious looking places. I thought about just licking him clean, but decided I probably could do with a little freshening up too, so I headed for the bathroom. Sitting him gently on the commode, lid closed thank you, I started the shower and adjusted the temperature. As soon as it was warm enough I stepped in and drew my angel with me. The water seemed to gradually transform him and before I knew it my sleepy head was awake and laughing and humming as I first shampooed his hair and then body washed all the other wonderful bits. I was surprised when he backed up and positioning me in front of him and blocking the shower spray he demanded, "Watch this!"

He first spread his feet a little over shoulder length apart, then thrust his hips forward and taking his little wiener in hand, he let rip with a giant pee stream. First it was all over his own chest and stomach, and then laughing and singing some wordless melody, he shared by spraying my legs and feet. When he was finished, he whooped and hollered, "See, I can do it. The demons are gone! OH, It's just pee and I Love you and You Love Me!" and he danced around and around changing places with me in and out of the water. I must admit, even though the words might fit Barney's song, they would forever be a song of freedom in my mind.

Stephy insisted in washing me as fully and carefully as I had washed him and we finished our shower in joyous celebration. As we were drying off, I suggested French toast for breakfast and he told me he had never heard of it! "Well," I opined, "you are about to try one of life's true luxuries. Now, go play your games while I get started, and yes, you can help, but I have some preparation to do first."

"'K," he splurged and skipped from the bath in his glorious nakedness down the hall and shortly I heard the weird little noises and songs that meant the world would soon be safe from hundreds of little virtual purpley things.

I was concentrating on the eggs and frying pan and didn't notice when he joined me in the kitchen, but as I placed a tray of finished toast in the oven to stay warm, I saw Stephy had set the table and swapped yesterday's pine cone with a little spring of evergreen and some ribbon. Where he found them I hadn't a clue, but they were as cute as he. We ate our feast again in silence, punctuated with wows and umms and ahhs as he clearly appreciated our tour of France. When he was finished he wouldn't let me get up, but cleared his plate and mine and flying from the room, told me to sit still he had to get something.

He returned almost as fast with a little pile in his hands and his polar bear blanket wrapped around his shoulders. As he brought it over to me, I thought I'd cry again. "I think that these are very important and special to you," he started. "And now I think they are very important and special to me, too. I think that we should put them away for very special times and take special care of them forever."

I did cry, of course. His little bundle included the four Christmas stockings my mother had made. The two that we had left for Santa to fill for Nicky and Stephy and the two that Stevie had filled so divinely in the first hours of our love. To top it all off, it also included the little heart covered bikinis that had so perfectly wrapped his first present to me. I took his bundle and placed it on the table and practically smothered him in my hugs and kisses while I bawled like a baby.

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Namaste!