My wife loves Christmas. She loves everything about it, the lights, the music, the decorations, the sappy Hallmark movies, there is nothing she doesn’t love about it.

Me on the other hand, meh, I could take or leave it. The crass commercialism, the hustle and bustle, the pressure to get just the right gift, the music, none of it holds any special fascination for me. But she loves it so that means I get to play along. It’s a small thing to make her happy, and we all know that saying about keeping your wife happy.

A couple of years ago, she got promoted into a significantly better-paying job. She didn’t especially want that job but getting it ensured that our retirement would be much more comfortable than it would have been otherwise. We would have been fine but this job would allow us to travel more, do more for our kids and family so she took it. It meant a lot of travel for work which she wasn’t crazy about, but it was a means to an end.

I had recently retired so a lot of the chores around the house fell to me, which I didn’t mind. It kept me occupied and out of trouble. I was still able to do the things I liked so it was working out to be a pretty good balance. 

Last week, she was away from Sunday through Thursday nights, conducting meetings with several satellite offices to bring employees up to speed on some changes to company policies. When she called me on Monday night, she fretted that she wouldn’t be able to get our home decorated for the holidays but I told her not to worry about it, I’d take care of it. “But you hate Christmas!” she objected. “I can’t ask you to do that!”

“You didn’t ask, Sweetie, I offered,” I replied. “I’ll get the big stuff done, you’ll still be able to putter away at the smaller stuff and together we’ll get it done.”

“I hope so!” she sighed. “I’m sorry for leaving all this on you! I tried to talk the bosses into leaving these meetings until after the holidays but they went ahead and scheduled them anyways.”

“I know, Babe. It’s fine. It’s just a couple more years and you can retire and we’ll have the rest of our lives to fret over Christmas trees and decorations and all that other stuff.”

I heard her sniffle over the phone, “I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was too!” I said, and our conversation devolved into our plan for me to accompany her to their office in Phoenix in February during which she would work by day while I played golf and at night we would have amazing hotel sex.

On the topic of our sex life, it was generally pretty good. Neither of us harboured many fantasies, they were more about where we might have sex than whether or not we would include other people. We did tease each other from time to time, me asking if her boyfriend was going to visit her at her hotel and her playing along as she described the things they would do together. She did the same, suggesting that I had a girlfriend for when she was away. It was my phantom girlfriend that we fantasized about that night. She was an amazing lover if not very inventive, the variations in our lovemaking were pretty much left to me with her generally agreeing with any suggestions I made, except one.

She wasn’t a fan of oral sex. Don't get me wrong, she loved receiving it, especially when combined with my sliding a dildo or a vibrator in and out of her pussy while I munched on her clit. That kind of oral sex was just fine with her. But she wasn’t a fan of taking my cock in her mouth. She told me it stemmed from an unpleasant experience she’d had in high school where a guy on the hockey team tried to force her into blowing him. She said any time since when she tried to do that, all she could think about was him and how he towered over her as he pushed her to her knees. She even remembered his stench, a combination of sweat and cheap beer. She did try, I’ll give her that, because she had known ever since we met that I wanted her to but she just couldn’t get over that trauma. But she did agree to anal, and she enjoyed it, so I gave her a pass on the oral.

So it was that on Friday night, I picked her up at the airport and rather than driving her straight home, I took her for a nice dinner. As we drove home, I took a roundabout route that took us through an affluent section of town whose residents went over the top decorating their homes and yards. They did it for charity, as a great many of the city's residents took their families to view the spectacular displays of light and colour, asking only for donations to a local food bank in return.

She oohed and ahhed at the sight and as we drove away toward our neighbourhood, she took my hand and kissed it, thanking me for taking the detour. “I had a shitty week but you made me feel better. Thank you, Honey!”

“You’re welcome, Sweetie!” I said. “Any little thing.” That was a saying we had adopted since she’d taken this job, any time I did some small thing and she thanked me for it, I’d say that.

I’d arranged with my next-door neighbour to go to our place and turn on the outside lights just after dark. The house hadn’t been decorated at all when she left on Sunday night and when we rounded the corner and she saw the lights, she gasped. “Oh my God, Honey! The house looks amazing! How did you get all that done in a week?”

“I had a little help from the Thompson boys across the street, and from Ted next door,” I said.

“Thank you, it looks so beautiful!” She leaned over and kissed me when I stopped the car.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet!” I said as I got out and went around to open her door and take her hand as she got out. She loved those small gestures of chivalry and respect and delighted when I did them.

She saw Ted by his house and she went over to thank him for his help. She hugged him and kissed his cheek which I know gave him a little thrill. He has been sweet on her ever since he and his late wife moved in almost ten years prior.

She came back over to me and I held out my hand to take hers as we walked up the walkway to our front door. “Close your eyes,” I said. I held her hand and guided her inside to the threshold of our living room. “Okay, you can look.”

Her hands flew to her mouth and she stopped breathing for a moment as she saw our living room fully decorated for Christmas. “Oh, Honey, it’s perfect!” she exclaimed. She wandered around the room inspecting it, touching things as I’d placed them and then she turned to me, “How did you do this? You hate Christmas!”

“I don’t hate it, I just don’t like it the way you do. So I paid attention all these years as you decorated and I learned a few things so I gave it a shot. I knew you’d want to change a few things around when you got home and I’m fine with that, Christmas is your holiday, not mine.”

“I’m not changing a thing!” she said and she kissed me lovingly. “This is the best gift you have ever given me!”

“Oh, so I can return those things to the jewellery store then? Good, I’ll do that tomorrow!” I was teasing her and she knew it but she played along.

I fixed us a glass of eggnog, another thing she loved but I didn’t and served her a small piece of fruit cake. “Did you make fruit cake?” I thought about lying but I chose not to.

“No, I bought it, but it’s the kind you like from that store we visited last year,” I said.

“I never knew you were paying such close attention all these years!” she whispered. “Thank you, you have no idea what this means to me!”

“You’re welcome, Sweetie, any little thing,” I said.

“This is not a little thing, it’s a huge thing!” she whispered as her hand moved to my crotch and fondled my erection. “And I’m going to do a huge thing for you in return!” She kissed me again, “Why don’t you get my suitcase from the car, there’s something I need in there. I’m going to take a bath!” I knew exactly what she wanted from her suitcase and I also knew that ‘I’m going to take a bath’ was code for us having butt sex.

I retrieved her suitcase, brought her small red bag into the washroom, and set it on the vanity. Then I set about getting our bedroom ready to set the mood. She always loved lots of candles and soft music in the room when we made love so I set everything up and got a mug of warm water to warm up our bottle of lube. The first time we used lube, she complained that it felt cold when it touched her skin so any time thereafter, I warmed it in a mug of warm water. I lit the fireplace in our bedroom and left until she called me that she was ready.

I saw a text from our daughter asking if her mom had gotten home safely. I replied that she had and that Mom would call her tomorrow. She sent back a few naughty emojis and said, “Have fun!!”

I heard my name being called from upstairs so I shut out all the lights, made sure the house was secure and made my way upstairs. When I got to our room, I saw my wife seated at her dressing table applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She got up when she noticed me and turned to face me. I was disappointed to see her wearing her ratty old robe. It was her favourite and she said it was her most comfortable but I had really hoped she would be wearing the sexy lingerie we had picked out together for her birthday.

She looked at me and licked her lips. She was a vision, her shoulder-length dark hair with a single streak of gleaming silver running down the left side, her smokey eyes, red-painted lips all stood out in stark contrast to her shabby purple robe. Then she smiled and opened her robe to show her completely naked underneath. The first thing that I noticed was that her neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair was gone revealing just bare skin. I looked her up and down, her breasts were still full and round, even though at fifty-one they drooped a little lower than they used to, her tummy was not as taut and toned as it was when we got married and her hips had a little extra padding on the sides.

These were not the result of years of neglect on her part but the ravages of fifty years of life but she still looked as beautiful, alluring and sexy to me as she ever had.

She dropped the robe off her shoulders and took a couple of steps toward me before raising her right hand and beckoning me toward her with her pointer finger. I noticed her nails had been painted the same blood-red as her lips.

I moved toward her and she stopped me, leaning forward and favouring me with her best kiss, the one that said, “I’m gonna fuck your brains out, Buster!”  She started unbuttoning my shirt, slipping it off my shoulders. Then she turned and took a pillow from our bed and set it on the floor at my feet.

“You don’t have to,” I whispered as the realization that the one thing she had always denied me might actually happen.

“I want to,” she whispered back as she stood back up and kissed me again. “I need to do this!” She sank down to her knees and unfastened my belt and the button on my slacks, sliding the zipper down and pulling my slacks down so they puddled at my feet.

She looked up at me and smiled before closing her eyes and licking the length of my shaft from scrotum to tip. She collected the drop of pre-cum on her finger and looked up at me as she slipped her fingertip into her mouth, licking it clean. She kissed the end of my cock and then opened wide, engulfing it into the warmth of her mouth and closing her lips around it.

Every so often, as she would draw her mouth up so only the very tip of my cock remained in her mouth, she looked up and me and smiled before opening her mouth wide and going back down. She tried to deepthroat me, which I never thought would be such an onerous task given that I was a very average five and a half inches, but she halted every time my head reached the back of her throat.

She came off me and looked up, “I’ll have to practice that!” and she went back down on me again. It didn’t take long before I was ready to bust my nut. I warned her I was really close but she stayed on me,  gently caressing my balls with one hand. When she felt them contract, she backed off, keeping just my head in her mouth as my first spurt shot out. She gagged a little but hung in there, opening her mouth and letting me watch as I finished, the last few spasms being more like dribbles than shots. She closed her lips and I saw her swallow before she opened wide and showed me that she’s indeed swallowed my cum, something I had long since stopped even dreaming she might do.

She took me back in for a little oral aftercare before standing up in front of me and kissing me very softly. I could taste the remains of my orgasm on her tongue and she pushed it past my lips and flicked it across mine.

“What brought that on?” I asked.

“Well, remember on Monday night and we were having phone sex and I teased you about your imaginary girlfriend sucking your cock?” I nodded. “Well, I just thought it was time so I decided that on Christmas morning I would do that for you as a Christmas gift!”

“But you hate doing that,” I said.

“Not as much as you love for me to do it!” she replied with a smile. I pointed out that wasn’t Christmas morning yet. “Sweetheart, you just gave me the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received and you expected nothing in return. What better time and what better way to show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me, every day of the year?”

“I’m not going to argue with that!” We kissed some more and I remarked that it didn’t taste all that great. She agreed so we took turns going to the washroom, taking the opportunity to rinse quickly with some mouthwash. We got into bed and cuddled up. “I suppose I’m going to have to keep giving you more surprise gifts if I want you to do that again?”

“It would help!” she smiled and kissed me. “But you never know, I might just surprise you once in a while!” She got up onto all fours, “Like right now for example. I know we only usually do butt-stuff on Saturday nights but I feel like a good stuffing tonight!”

I got over my surprise rather quickly as I moved behind her and applied the warm lube to her bum. “I can’t wait for Christmas morning!” I thought as I slipped my cock into her ass!