Page 21 of The Christmas Keeper

On Saturday, December 20, I woke up tangled in not only the covers but in the insanely long, hairy legs of my new lover. Yes, I was calling him my lover. Lover did not mean that we were in love. It meant that we were making love. Simple as that.

Just this morning, to be precise, I found myself lying with him, his legs over mine, his curls tickling my nose, admiring the way his nose worked. It drew air in, then let it out. Amazing. I wiggled to my side, careful not to move around too much if possible. Kenan tended to sleep lightly, so I moved with care until I was facing him. I ran my hand along his side, enjoying the bump of my fingers over his ribs, pleased to see that his gauntness was easing. He was still incredibly slim, lithe, even, but he was slowly losing the pallor he’d worn that night at the airport. My fingertips skimmed down over his hip, lingering in the gulley that ran to his groin, as I worried over the fact that I’d known this man only two weeks, but it felt as if our souls hadknown each other for eternity. It was terrifying. And so, I shoved that thought away into a little brain box where I pushed other things that scared me, such as little hats on pigs, tax day, and how some people could vote against their own interests.

“Pretty man,” I whispered as my hand found his cock, semi-erect already, the tip slick with seed that I ran my thumb through. Kenan moaned, one dark eye opened, and his lips drew up on the side. “You looked horny.”

“Mm, really? I thought maybe I looked like I was sleeping,” he teased, pumping his hardening cock into my fist.

“Horny sleeping,” I replied, then stole a hot kiss. He ground into my hold, his dick filling my fist now. I sucked on his tongue, nipped at his lower lip, and then rubbed my cheek against his. Whiskers on whiskers. My cock throbbed with want. “On your back. I want to suck you.”

“Holy shit, you’re bossy,” he said but flopped onto his back with haste.

Yeah, I was bossy. And his boss, which was something that could come back to bite me on the ass. Well, he’d done that last night before he’d slithered up over me, pinned me to the bed then fucked me between the thighs until we both shot our loads. Maybe we shouldn’t be fucking at all. Probably not.

“You’re fired,” I mumbled as I nuzzled his chest, my tongue darting out to flick a tight brown nipple.

“Again?”

“Yep.” I worked my way down his abdomen, tongued his navel, and fell on his fat dick as if I’d not eaten a pound of lasagna last night. Mr. Blum had eaten so many carbs he’d fallen asleep on the sofa before dessert had been served.

“Okay…shit…that’s so good,” Kenan moaned as I tongued the underside of his cockhead. We’d never done oral before. Only frottage until he’d humped the hell out of me in a wild thigh sex session just ten hours ago. “Will you hire me back again?”

I nodded and hummed an affirmative. He’d quit a few times before we’d fucked around, and so I had started firing him and then hiring him back. This way when we had sex, he wasn’t my employee. It was stupid, obviously, but hey no one ever said I was a genius. If they did, they didn’t know me well.

My mother would agree if she ever found out about Kenan’s past. I hoped that would never take place. If I kept my distance until Kenan left, then this whole crazy affair would just be a past remembrance. It would all fade into memory like the second grade play when I threw up inside my tree costume. Guess that memory wasn’t as faded as I assumed it had been.

Somewhere, off in another galaxy, a cell phone alarm went off. I cussed around a mouthful of cock, trying to focus on the task at hand, but Kenan seemed to be losing concentration.

“Ugh, sorry, I can’t with that beeping,” he grumbled and eased his dick out from between my lips before leaving the bed to find the phone. I lay there on my belly, dick hard, face in the sheets, maligning Alexander Graham Bell for inventing the telephone. Eventually, the alarm quieted, so I flopped to my back, prick standing at attention, waiting.

After five minutes, my cock was soft, but my curiosity was piqued. Had Kenan forgotten about me? Surely not. Growing concerned that he had slipped and hit his head, I pulled on my jogging pants from where they’d been tossed last night, found a sweatshirt, and pattered to the kitchen to find no one. A cup of coffee had been prepped and was sitting in the maker, so I swiped it just as I heard someone outside shouting. I rushed to the small window over the sink, went to my toes, and gazed out at Kenan sitting on top of the goose coop, legs tucked into his chest, bellowing my name.

“Poor kindhearted fool,” I lamented, took a sip of coffee, and went to save my lover from Fred. Slogging out into the bitter cold with sloppy boots and my chore coat, I made my way to thegoose pen. Kenan, bless him, was curled into the tightest ball he could curl into, his dark eyes pinned on the gander trying to find some flesh to pinch. “Morning!” I cheerily called as I reached the white picket fence.

“Call him off!” Kenan shouted, his roar sending a couple of fat mourning doves roosted nearby to wing. “He tried to pull my pecker off!”

“Fred, have we not discussed penis attacks?” I asked the irate gander. Wilma waddled over to see if I had any goose treats as her partner continued to terrorize the man sharing my bed.

“I came out to give them some warm water and a funky cucumber from the vegetable bin and he chased me up here. Can you please call him off?”

“What was one of the first things I told you about these two grumpy shitbirds?” I asked as I entered the enclosure, Wilma already tugging on the hem of my coat. I bent down to pick up the rubbery cuke from the frosty ground. Kenan said some rather biting things about me and my geese as I worked on trying to snap the cucumber in half. “No, I did not tell you that the birds were assholes and so was I, although that is true.”

“Fine, you said not to come into the pen because they don’t know me well,” Kenan recited verbatim. “I thought I would be nice to them and they’d learn to like me faster.”

“Yeah, that’s not how goose minds work, or at least not how Fred’s mind works. I’ll get the pool broken out. That should lure him away from your pecker, although, to be honest, I rather like nibbling on your cock as well.”

Fred made a lunge at Kenan’s dangling leg. “Ah shit! That goose needs to be our holiday dinner!” Kenan nearly lost his boot as he scrambled to get his foot back under his buttocks.

“Now that’s just not in the holiday spirit at all,” I chided while reaching over the fence for the old axe. Winter chores were so much fun. Not.

“Neither are you or those winged terrors!”

“I see the truth in your words.”

Once the pool was free of ice and was being filled, Fred lost interest in Kenan. But just. When the gander turned to get a drink, Kenan leapt off the roof of the coop and executed a superhero landing that would have been epic had his boot not hit a patch of frozen goose shit. He went to his ass with a grunt. Fred spun. I shouted. Kenan dove/vaulted over the fence, then spun after the landing, and gave my bird the bird.

“You realize Fred has no idea what that middle finger means, right?” I asked before heading off to start filling buckets at the outside hydrant behind the pen.

“Oh he knows,” Kenan stated.

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