Page 32 of A Candy Cane Christmas
He might’ve tried to warn me, but I wasn’t about to stop now. Instead, I grabbed his ass and pulled him close, choking myself on his cock until my nose hit his pubes. I swallowed around him, and Theo was done. He came with a shout, snapping his hips forward, his cock pulsing on my tongue, shooting rope after rope of cum down my throat.
Seconds later, he pulled me up on the couch, his mouth crashing against mine again, a laugh bubbling out of him.
“We need to do that again,” he panted, still laughing against my lips, his softening cock rubbing against mine. “We definitely need to do that again.”
I chuckled, lightly thrusting against him. “Who knows, maybe next time we’ll actually manage to get naked first?”
Theo just laughed softly and wrapped his arms around me. “I don’t care,” he said, even though I could feel my cum soaking into his sweater. “I really don’t care, as long as it’s us and it feels this good.”
Resting my cheek against his shoulder, I smiled at his words.
“You’re right. As long as it feels this good, I don’t care if we ruin our clothes.”
Though I had a feeling our clothes would come off sooner rather than later. After all, we definitely needed to shower before bed. We couldn’t very well go to bed all sweaty and dirty, could we?
Forum Post 3
Has my boyfriend accidentally moved in with me? And if he hasn’t, how do I ask him to?
The title basically says it all.
I think my boyfriend (26m) might have accidentally moved in with me (22m) and my daughter (5f) without us noticing. I know it sounds crazy and weird, but I think it happened.
Last week, my daughter asked me when my boyfriend would officially move in with us so we could finally be a real family. We’ve only been dating for a year, so I think her stating that we’d finally become a real family is a bit dramatic, but it got me thinking about timelines, and I kind of realized that we’re basically already living together.
I mean, he still has his apartment downstairs (he’s also my downstairs neighbor), but he almost exclusively uses it as his art studio and office, only sleeping there if he works until the middle of the night so as not to disturb mine or my daughter’s sleep, which happens maybe once every two weeks.
Apart from when he’s working, he basically spends all his time at our place. He gets up with us, makes us breakfast, does his fair share of grocery shopping, and hell—ooo kitty, he even does like half the cleaning.
Safe to say, whatever it is we have going, it’s going incredibly well. But ever since I started thinking about timelines, my brain won’t let go. I need answers and reassurance, and I feel like we need plans.
But first, are we living together? I mean, in theory, he still has his place, but I feel like it doesn’t really count if he’s treating it more like an office than a home. How do I know for sure?
Also, I’m looking for cute ideas on how to ask him to move in officially. Some of you might think he secretly moved in with me and was fully aware of what he’s doing, but if you knew him, you wouldn’t be thinking that. He’s a bit of a chaotic mess.
I thought about gifting him a wrapped key, but I’m afraid he’ll think I’m proposing. And while I love him so much and hope it’s the direction we’re moving in, I think officially living together needs to happen waaay before a proposal.
Any other ideas? It’s fine if they involve my daughter. She’ll be absolutely stoked to have him living with us.
DADvertising:Is this the elf from last year? If so, I love a happy ending. As for has he moved in? It sounds like maybe he has. But if you want to make it official, gift him a cute keychain. Maybe you can get one of those personalized ones with his initials, a piece of his art, or even a picture of the three of you. Put the key on the keychain, but don’t put it in any kind of jewelry box, so he doesn’t think it’s a proposal.
But yes, it does sound like you already have a live-in boyfriend. Congrats again.
Epilogue – One year later
Theo
The collar of my shirt was too tight.
I desperately sucked in another breath, but it felt like nothing reached my lungs. No oxygen to fuel my body. Panic took hold of me as I clutched the hem of my sweater and pulled it off my neck.
The offending piece of fabric was gone, several inches away from my skin, but I still couldn’t fridging breathe.
Was it hot in here?
Was the thermostat broken?
Maybe that’s what was going on.
