Page 18 of A Little Merry

I watched her pump me in the mirror, while I rested my arm under my head. “Holy fuck!”

She felt so damn good, I wanted to come right down her throat, but I knew I probably shouldn’t. We hadn’t talked about any of this, and I couldn’t let go without asking, even though everything in me wanted to do just that.

She was so fucking dirty… I loved it.

“We should stop, so I can fuck you again,” I told her, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she increased her speed. “I won’t be able to stop it if you keep going like this.”

All she did was moan, deep, loud moans that vibrated on my rock-hard cock, as she massaged my aching balls. That combination caused my mind to shut completely down, and all I felt were intense sensations.

I couldn’t fucking help it. I unloaded in her mouth, down her throat. I came so fast, I thought she might choke. At the very least, I thought she’d let me slide out of her mouth, but she didn’t. She swallowed everything I gave her.

“Fuckin’ A!” I roared, feeling like some kind of feral beast.

I could swear I heard angels singing as my entire body dropped off a cliff that had no bottom. I’d never felt anything like it.

Never.

Ever.

She was, in fact,fucking magic.

I AWOKE THE next morning with my alarm going off at seven thirty, looking to cuddle with my painted vixen, but she was gone… replaced with a fully decorated Christmas tree that now sat just outside my glass doors.

“What the fuck? How… No way…”

How she managed to pull it up here, and how she didn’t wake me up, was something of a miracle.

I sat up, realizing that she’d also managed to throw the blanket from the sofa over me, along with the pillow that she’d somehow pushed under my head. Thing was, I found myself smiling, genuinely smiling. Instead of hating the tree or scorning it, or wanting to toss it over the side, I couldn’t help but appreciate it.

Hell, I even liked it.

The tree itself wasn’t all that big. Four feet high, and she’d set it up on a small bench. Red bows, thin garland, and an assortment of colored ornaments hung from every branch, with a silver star glowing on the top. Brightly colored lights illuminated it, and despite my aversion to the entire month of December, I couldn’t help but think about how lovely my dingy rooftop now looked. She even draped a bright silver cloth around the bottom.

Thing was, no one had ever gone to all this trouble for me since I was a kid, and my parents put it all together, but they had both died several years ago, and if it wasn’t for my two best friends, I didn’t know how I would’ve made it this far.

Now, there was this Christmas miracle in my life named Merry. Who the hell gave their kid a spelling like that for a traditional name? That couldn’t be written on her birth certificate. I felt certain that she’d changed the spelling somewhere along the way.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All I knew was I had to get ready for the art festival that started, according to the large clock that hung on my wall, in four hours.

I got up, realizing I was still covered in paint. Hell, even my dick was painted bright red, and of course, I had a boner just thinking about everything we did last night.

The shower felt amazing, and I had to rub one off. Way too many recent hot memories to ignore, especially her fine, tight pussy. Yeah, I came in her mouth, but when we woke up a few hours later, I couldn’t resist fucking her. I’d used a condom, but that didn’t hinder any feelings at all. In fact, it made it even more intoxicating.

Now, as I toweled off, I couldn’t wait to see her again.

“Down, boy,” I told myself as I looked in the mirror and ran the electric razor over my face, leaving the right amount of stubble. “You’re moving way too fast. Slow the fuck down.”

I got dressed, made a cup of strong coffee, and went back up to my studio to collect my paintings for the show. One dark and miserable scene after another, a few with shadows of hopeless people wondering around the ruins.

Fuck it all, if they didn’t bring me down, make me unhappy, and strip me of my unusual euphoric mood. I realized she’d been right.

“I can’t bring these down to the square. They’ll make everyone miserable, and nobody will buy them, but they might buy…”

I couldn’t even go there. Couldn’t even entertain the idea… wouldn’t entertain the idea.

I drank down most of my coffee while gazing out at thatfuckingChristmas tree outside my windows and made a snap decision that I would more than likely regret, but I couldn’t see any other way to do it.

I tore down the stairs and walked towards the spare bedroom. The bedroom I rarely went into. The bedroom I kept locked, the bedroom that held my secret stash of paintings. The ones I created when I was younger and much more hopeful. The artwork I created even now when I started to fall too far down that rabbit hole of despair and loneliness. I never showed these works to anyone, not even Connor or Lucas.

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