Art Something
13
First Christmas
‘ALL THROUGH THE HOUSE, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’ We’d apparently given Mom and Dad enough time to at least retreat to their own room. Our shoes were snowy so we removed them in the entryway and left them to dry. We crept up the stairs hand-in-hand and when we reached the door to our bedroom, I swept Fay up in my arms and carried her across the threshold.
We tenderly undressed each other and brushed our teeth. When we returned to the bedroom, we stood on opposite sides of the big bed and looked at each other. Suddenly, the bed looked too huge and was a gulf between us. I knelt on the edge and began knee-walking to the center, Fay followed my lead and when we met we kissed. All time was lost in that kiss.
“Fay, I want… I need…”
“Shh. You don’t have to talk, my love.”
“But I want to.” I reached under the pillow and pulled out a sheet of paper I’d prepared. “I know words. I know them, Morgan, but I can’t make my mouth say them. It’s so frustrating. I know it looks stupid and canned to listen to me read this to you, but I need you to know. I need it. I love you, Morgan le Fay. Our mother told me you were the source of all the good ideas in my life, and I believe her. I have known you took care of me and could never say a simple thank you. When you held me in your arms, not only did my nightmares vanish, they changed to fabulous adventures that I could only express by painting them. You are my anchor in the real world. I love you. I love you.”
We kissed and Fay pulled me down on the bed, pressing her body against mine.
“Not done,” I said. She grinned at me, but let me continue. “When you brought Annette to me, you gave me the most wonderful gift I could imagine. Not only because she is beautiful and loving and sexy and I love her. When Annette came into my life, she let me see that I don’t just love you because you are the only one who cares or because you are the only one who would have me. She let me see that I love you because you are a beautiful precious being who makes my heart sing. You bring out the best in me. And part of the best that you bring out is my love for Annette. I am so lucky to love you. I am so happy that you love me. Morgan le Fay, stay with me forever. Be my wife, be wife to my Lady Annette. Please accept my love for you always.”
“Oh, Pen. I am yours. I have always been yours. I love you to the depth of my being and it is made deeper by our love for Annette. Come to me, my love. We’ve waited nearly eighteen years for this moment.”
We didn’t rut like horny goats. Once we had made our declarations, we lay down and began to kiss. We explored each other like we had never touched before. There was nothing about her that I didn’t want to know. I wanted to memorize the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, the number of folds in her ear when I licked it, the texture of her nipple, the feel of her tongue as she traced from my belly to my cock. I wanted to discover her scent and taste and texture. I wanted to immerse myself in her love, feeling her hand stroking my cock and exploring her hot wet depths with my fingers. When we pressed our chests together, I wanted to feel her breathing against me. Her skin was so incredibly soft and smooth.
And then we were there. The tip of my cock was poised, waiting in the moisture at her opening. I could feel the heat emanating from her center.
“Do it, Pen. I’m yours. Push inside me.”
I sank slowly into her. If I was drowning in her juices, I was not struggling against the euphoria this death would offer. I felt the tightness as she gasped and squeezed me. I paused and sank farther. Fay’s sex opened and welcomed me. We were joined together. Truly joined. But it was not just our sex that was joined. It was our souls. I wondered if they had ever been separate, or if all this time the two of us had shared one soul.
When we moved together, we were filled with joy. Fay rose to an orgasm as I kissed her, then surprised me by rolling me over so she was on top, pressing herself onto my rigid cock. She pushed her nipple into my mouth and moaned as I sucked on her and thrust with my pelvis. We mounted to this peak together and I felt myself freezing deep within her as my stomach cramped and bolts of electricity shot from my penis.
“Joy to the world, my lord has come,” Fay sang with a shuddering breath. She collapsed on top of me, still pulsing around my cock as we fell asleep.
Even with two of us in the giant bed, we only used the mattress space of one.
I woke up on Christmas morning with most of Fay’s weight still on me. We’d been up very late and I wasn’t sure what had awakened me. I lay there holding her in my arms as she petted my shoulder.
Except Fay was asleep. I turned my head and saw Annette petting my shoulder and putting little kisses on it. I smiled at her.
“I couldn’t wait,” she whispered cuddling closer.
“Merry Christmas, angel,” I whispered. I pulled my arm out from between us and hugged her to me.
“Did the Christmas angel come?” Fay asked sleepily.
“Not yet,” Annette giggled.
We were a little sleepy, but it made for long, languorous lovemaking. We kissed in all combinations, even trying to all kiss together at once. My cock stayed hard because I felt no immediate need to ejaculate. I slid into Annette and I slid into Morgan. They pressed their sex together and I could hear the wet sounds as they moved. And we kissed. At one point, we each had two hands on our sex organs. As we woke up more fully, we became more active, more deliberate in our love making. As we became more active, we began to push toward orgasms, one at a time and then all together. We loved. We made love. We climaxed.
It was strange to have breakfast with my parents. Dad fixed us all mimosas. Mom made cinnamon rolls. We had coffee. Everything seemed so normal as we moved to the living room and sat around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts. I know some families who designate one person to be Santa Claus and distribute all the gifts, then everyone unwraps at once. Our tradition was to collect the gifts you were giving and distribute them to the recipients. Everyone opened his or her present from that person and we exchanged a few words about what the gift meant or how it was received. Then the next person would distribute his presents.
Dad loved the book of old English fairy tales I got him. It wasn’t that he didn’t already own all the stories, but this one was illustrated by Arthur Rackham and was published in 1920. It was in very good condition and Dad was excited to look at all the illustrations. I’d talked to Grandma about the kind of sunglasses she wore and she helped me order a pair for Mom. Mom had been using sunglasses she bought at Costco and kept losing them, so this pair came with a necklace that attached to the bows. It sounds a little old ladyish, but they were very stylish and Mom put them on immediately. Grandma said they affected the tone of what was seen, but didn’t adversely affect the color.
It had been hard to decide what to give my girlfriends. Funny how I didn’t think of Fay separately as my sister. They were both my sisters. They were both my girlfriends. They’d given me a wrist chain—I guess guys wear bracelets, too—and told me it wasn’t my present, but was just to facilitate my present. Then they each presented me with a half-heart charm to attach to the chain. The hearts were engraved with their names, but I noticed Annette gave me the one engraved with Morgan’s name and vice versa.
They were puzzled by the big boxes I gave them.
“It’s so big!” Fay exclaimed.
“Fay!” Annette hissed as she blushed. Fay turned red as well. Mom and Dad just laughed.
“You can open them at the same time,” I said. “I suppose it’s obvious that I got you the same thing.” They tore into the packages—no neat unwrapping and folding the paper for these girls.
“Oh!” they both shouted when they saw the pillows.
“A new pillow?” Annette said.
“I thought you should each have your very own pillow for our new bed,” I said. They squealed.
“Let’s go try them out!” Fay yelled.
“Young lady,” Mom warned. We all turned to look at her as we blushed.
Mom looked puzzled. She pulled her new sunglasses off and looked at them, then slowly raised her head to look at us. Her usual squint gradually disappeared and she started to smile.
“What is it, Mom?” I asked. “Aren’t our auras hurting your eyes? You haven’t been able to look at any of us for months without it hurting. Are you all right?” Dad moved to her side and put an arm around her.
“It’s not wrong,” Mom sighed. “It’s so very right.” We all gathered around her and she reached out to touch each of us. “Your auras have been raging for months. My mother warned me that you’d all be a test on my sight when you hit puberty and things started going out of control. Oh, was she right! Flashes as your emotions rolled, brilliant combustion as you came in contact with each other, glow that hurt my eyes as you fell in love.”
“But aren’t we still glowing?” Fay asked. “We’re more in love now than ever.”
“Yes, but it’s the difference between being hit in the eyes by three spotlights from different directions with no place safe to shift my eyes and having a single solid glow that is bright and rainbow hued, but is uniform around all three of you. My eyes can adjust to the brightness. You are all three sharing a single aura.”
Gramma and Grampa were at Annette’s house along with her grandparents when we arrived for Christmas dinner. We exchanged little tokens. Our grandparents gave us money. We had a huge ham with all the trimmings for the meal and sat around talking about what Fay and I had done for Christmas Eve. Up to a point. Gramma looked at us and took off her sunglasses.
“So, it’s finally happened,” she said. “May you be blessed with long life and happiness.”
“Thank you, Gramma,” we said.
“Mother,” Annette began. “I mean Mothers. I know I’m still in high school and we’re all planning to go to college together, but… I’m eighteen. I’d still like your permission. May I move in with Arthur and Morgan? I promise my grades will stay up. I’ll help with the housework. I’ll contribute my fair share. I’ll try not to scream too loudly in the middle of the night.” We all laughed. Annette was kind of vocal. “May I please live with my lovers? My life mates?”
“I thought you’d already moved,” her mom said much to the amusement of the others. “I turned your room into a sewing room.”
“Mom!”
“I think we already agreed to open up your suite into the two rooms,” Dad said. “I’m only concerned that there might not be enough closet space. Arthur only has a couple of T-shirts and jeans. If you have as many clothes as Morgan, we might have to move you to the basement.”
“Da-ad!” Morgan said. Even though we’re adults now, we still know how to whine like babies. Mom held out her arms to Annette and our girlfriend went to cuddle with her.
“We are a family in which there is little difference between sibling and spouse. That means, precious, that you are also my daughter. I would never turn you away. That is why I agreed to Arthur getting a new bed.”
I looked at the canvas in front of me and my lovers still sleeping in our big bed. When I slipped out of it to paint, they rolled together into each other’s arms. I started putting in the background foliage for the scene I was painting. Ideas still came to me in pictures rather than words, and I’d already made two new quick sketches since I woke up. I knew my Lady and le Fay would be able to put words around them later. Words were up to them.
I’d like to say that I painted my career defining masterpiece that morning. But this was just a start. That work was still years away. What was defined that morning, though, was my reality. As I painted, I kept glancing back at my lovers. They gave me purpose when I arose in the morning and a reason to go to bed at night.
They stirred, waking with slow kisses and stretching their beautiful bodies as they woke. I put down my paintbrush and they held out their arms to me.
Sometimes they gave me a reason to go back to bed in the morning, too.
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