Twas the Night Before Christmas
Date: 10.08.2008Keywords: Twas, Before, Christmas, Night, the,
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"Copyright © 1998, Baron Darkside. ALL Rights Reserved
An Erotic Fantasy from the pen of Baron Darkside...Edited and re-released by BarondeSade..."
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS...
Darren stood leaning against the wall by the window. He had his arm casually draped around his mother, Alison shoulders and was listening to the murmur of voices from around the room.
It was Christmas Eve and the family was gathered together as was their tradition...
"It is so sad that Orin won't be here this Christmas," he heard his Aunt Mildred tell his mother.
Then a sudden gust of wind rattled the window and he found himself thinking back to the day that they had buried his father.
It had been a blustery, cold day. The wind had been swirling, tossing leaves into the air around the group of mourners surrounding the somber, gray casket poised above the dark, foreboding hole in the ground. Finally, at the end of the ceremony, just as they had started to lower the casket down into the ground, he had felt a snowflake brush his cheek. Then he had felt another as he had looked up from the casket and watched an approaching snow squall.
Ironic, he remembered thinking, his father had loved winter and snow. And now, on the day of his burial, the snow came; came like a penitent friend to wish his father farewell. As the casket had slowly been lowered down into the ground, the squall had borne down on the forlorn group of grievers; descending upon them; swirling around them and quickly covering them, the ground, and his father's casket with its whiteness. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it had been swept away by a cold, bitter gust of wind...
Another gust of wind rattled the window bringing him back to the present.
"You're looking so much better," Darren heard his Aunt Mildred say to his mother.
"Why, thank you," his mother said, turning and looking up into Darren's eyes. "I owe it all to Darren. He has been such a godsend since Orin passed away. I don't know what I would have done without him."
Blushing, Darren smiled back at his mother and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
If only his mother's sister knew the whole story, Darren thought, basking in the warm glow of his mother's adoration.
Smiling to himself, he leaned back against the coolness of the wall enjoying the fragrance of his mother's perfume mixed with the smell of wood burning in the fireplace and all the other smells of Christmas wafting around the room.
The room was warm, almost stuffy with all the relatives sitting around talking. Stifling a yawn, he wondered when they would leave.
Then his mother pressed herself against him ever so gently. So slight was the movement, no one else would have noticed, but to Darren, the tiny spot where his hip touched hers erupted into fire.
A nervous smile jerked at the corners of his mouth as his gaze swept across the room to see if anyone had noticed.
His mother returned his smile and turned back to her sister. The erotic excitement of their touch brought back memories of the night it had all begun. The night he and his mother had spent alone at the inn.
...
His mother had quit her job after his father had died and became a recluse inside their house, venturing out only to replenish her stock of booze. Darrin had watched her lose twenty pounds as she drifted deeper and deeper into despair. Finally, Darren had decided to step in and get her out of the house; see if he couldn't bring her back to life.
On his own, he had reserved a room at a quaint little Japanese inn that he and his mother had visited when he was younger. The rooms were right down on the ocean and she would let Darren play on the beach while she sat and read. It had always kind of been "their" place, because his father had never been there.
Since it had been such a special place, he hoped that they could go there and rekindle some pleasant memories to chase away all the unpleasant ones that were haunting her.
He had expected her to resist when he told her...
"Mother, we're going to go away for the weekend," he recalled saying.
"Okay," she had smiled up at him tipsily.
Surprised by her sudden acquiescence, he had gone on to explain to her that he had reserved a room in the little Japanese inn where they had stayed so long ago.
"When?" he remembered her asking.
"Tomorrow," he had told her.
"So soon?" she had replied back.
"Yes, it will be good for you to get out of the house," he had told her.
"You're right," she had smiled back at him. "You always know how to take care of your Mommy."
...
Then he heard his name in the conversation between his mother and her sister and he returned to the present.
"Yes, we're so close now," his mother said. "I'm only sorry that it took something so tragic to bring us closer."
Darren felt an almost imperceptible increase in the pressure of his mother's hip against his as he smiled dutifully at his aunt.
"Would you like some more wine?" his mother asked, taking the glass out of his hand.
"Sure, Mom," he smiled.
Listening to the crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the murmur of voices, he watched his mother weave her way across the crowded room. He hoped that no one was watching him, but he couldn't resist staring down at her delectable little rear end softly swishing back and forth with each step. The soft round swell of her buttocks swaying back and forth under the soft, clinging material of her skirt sent chills running up and down his spine.
He still had difficulty believing that his mother was now his lover, too...
Then he watched her walking back toward him with a knowing smile on her lips as his eyes dipped down to the soft swell of her breasts bobbling ever so delicately with each step. Then she was back by his side, handing him his drink and squeezing up next to him again. Gently pulling her to him, he hoped that no one would notice the intimacy they were experiencing. He felt like he was her shield against life's misfortunes; her protector and guardian and he would never let anybody or anything hurt her again.
"Thank you, mother," he whispered in her ear.
"Thank you, darling," she whispered back to him, discreetly pressing her hip against the growing hardness inside his pants.
"Now where were we?" she said, turning back to her sister.
Listening to the drone of their voices, he let his mind wander back to that night again. It was like a rare treasure that he could take out and relive over and over again.
...
They had dressed in their best clothes and left the house around four o'clock that fateful afternoon. It had been cold and threatening to snow all day long. Darren hoped that it would hold off until they got to the Inn and luckily it had. They had barely spoken during the two-hour drive; his mother had seemed content to sit and watch the scenery go by as he drove.
He had checked in while his mother had waited in the car.
Opening the door to their room, Darren saw that the room had two queen-sized beds, just as he had requested. He remembered that when they had stayed there earlier, their room had had only one bed. But he had been much smaller and they had slept in the same bed, but now that he was eighteen that couldn't happen.
His mother had looked around the room and walked over to the chest of drawers while Darren had set down their little overnight bag.
"Would you like a little nip before dinner?"
"Sure," he said, flipping on the television.
They sat sipping their drink as they watched the news. Then, before they knew it, it was time to go the teahouse.
Stepping out of the Inn, they saw that it had finally begun to snow. Soft, light flakes of snow slowly drifted down from the dark sky, gathering in cracks and crevices on the ground. Taking his mother's hand, Darren had escorted her over to the Tearoom and checked their coats at the door.
The stairs leading up to the tearoom were narrow, so that only one person could traverse them at a time. Stepping back, Darren let his mother go first. Following her, he was acutely aware of how pretty she looked. Following behind her, he watched her tight, little black dress clinging to her beautifully-shaped derrière. Her shapely legs encased in sheer black hose. Her blond hair flowing down the sides of her face, bouncing up and down as she went up the stairs. Suddenly, even the clop of her high heels on the wooden stairs sounded intimately erotic.
He remembered telling himself to stop thinking like that as they finally stepped into the tearoom.
Removing their shoes at the door, they were quickly seated at their table. The tearoom was not the traditional Japanese room; the floor under the tables had been sunk so one didn't have to sit the Japanese way. There was even a heater under the table to warm their feet, since they had had to remove their shoes before they entered the tearoom.
Declining the offer of sake, they chose a nice California Merlot to go with their dinner. After they ordered, they sat sipping their wine watching the snow falling outside the window.
His mother seemed to be enjoying herself, as she smiled at him. He hoped that his plan was working, he thought, as he moved his feet closer to the heater under the table. As he did, his foot brushed against his mother's foot accidentally. Self-consciously, he pulled his foot away from hers.
Smiling bashfully, he took another sip of wine. Then he felt his mother's foot brush against his again. Moving his foot away for a second time, he set his glass down. Then their feet touched for a third time. This time he didn't move his foot away.
Sitting across the table from each other, they turned and stared into each other's eyes. Suddenly, Darren felt a spark of something that, to this day, he still couldn't explain. Something magical and wonderful happened at that moment. He watched his mother's eyes widen for a tiny moment, then the tiniest of frowns flickered across her face as her brow wrinkled for an instant.
Darren was stunned by the emotions flowing through his brain.
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Keywords: Twas, Before, Christmas, Night, the,