Christmas Eve with the Yeardleys
The children are tucked up in bed upstairs, sleeping soundly after Noah told them Santa doesn’t deliver if he knows you’re awake. The house quiet, the Nottinghamshire countryside surrounding them white and treacherous, they don’t plan on going anywhere for days.
Noah and his wife Charlotte sit across from one another by the Inglenook fireplace, a low coffee table between them. Sat in a deep, fur rug on the floor, they comfortably sip mulled wine, a Scrabble board on the table between them.
Charlotte has a filthy grin decorating her face. She already knows she has won. He can’t possibly beat the score she’s going to get.
“Please, show me what you’ve got,” she asks.
Cocking one brow, he replies in a deep, baritone voice, “Later, darling. For now I’ll show you my letters.”
She giggles, her eyes wide, flirting with him.
Whoever wins gets to decide how they spend the rest of their Christmas Eve.
Placing his letters on the board, she knows she’s going to enjoy wiping the smug grin off his face.
“There, how about that then?” he asks, his shoulders lifted in triumph.
“Not bad,” she replies, “not bad.”
Counting up his score for treats combined with a double word score, she assigns his total.
“Well, you scored 118 altogether,” she says, “poor me, eh?”
He chuckles loudly. “The victor would always be me, of course.”
She sits, her lips pursed dramatically. “The victor? We’ll see…”
She places her last letters on the board. Her word cinnamon uses letters already put down and the latter n also happens to land on a triple word score.
“Well, now, I believe I have scored 135 altogether,” she giggles.
Frowning, he demands, “Bloody show me that. Let me check there’s been no cheating here.”
Checking their scorecards, his face falls. “Well, I was really rather hoping to give you a surprise tonight which is why I saved those letters for last.”
“Fifteen points as opposed to thirty-six darling, does not a winner make,” she tells him cockily, tidying their Scrabble set back into its box. “Now, I believe the agreement was I get to decide the entertainment this evening.”
He folds his arms. “But we know it’s better if I take charge.”
She folds her arms. “But we know it’s better if I take charge.”
They sit glaring at one another before he puts his bottom lip out. “I went to a lot of trouble.”
Sipping the dregs of her warm, mulled wine, she relaxes as she pours a little more for both of them, the roaring fire and their nightcaps making their cheeks flushed.
“Let’s see about this trouble, oh husband of mine.”
He celebrates inwardly, his eyes lighting up, a yeeesssss said under his breath.
She shakes her head, grinning. “Noah, if I don’t like it… whatever this plan of yours is, just remember I won fair and square and therefore, I have ultimate superiority tonight.”
“Yeah, you think you do,” he says quietly, but she hears him.
Never is Noah harder nor more desperate for her love than when she is in charge, but the power games persist, the back and forth unrelenting. Who can outdo who? How can they keep surpassing all their experiences so far? It was getting more difficult. After all, they’d experienced so many things together:
Noah peeping from behind a modesty curtain as a lesbian licked Charlotte mercilessly to orgasm;
Noah watching Charlotte with two big, gay men;
Noah hearing how Charlotte incensed all those hundreds of men in her domme days, his cock growing harder by the minute as she described her encounters;
Noah hearing Charlotte and her best friend Flo exchange tales of cock, kink and considerable explosions;
Not to mention their own private times involving dildos, whips, chains, lube, gags, masks and corsets – plus Noah role-playing her fantasy men: a fireman, policeman, artist, physician, gigolo, pilot, billionaire and even a lonely soldier, back on leave, gagging for it.
He has spent many, many hours of his life fulfilling her every fantasy, satisfying her every need, because what gives her pleasure always gives him pleasure.
What a terrible existence.
Standing, he holds out his hand, “Upstairs, baby.”
She takes his hand and he pulls her to standing, too.
Hand in hand, they walk from the lounge to the wooden staircase, she in her silk nightdress and matching dressing gown, and he in his Egyptian cotton robe with just boxers beneath.
Before he opens their bedroom door, he asks, “Are you ready?”
“I’m more than ready to turn down your plan in favour of mine.”
(She doesn’t really have a plan set in stone, and always prefers whatever settings or scenarios he has come up with, but egging him on always seems to bring out the best in him.)
He grins, his stocky body shaking with suppressed laughter so they don’t wake the children. “You know you’ll give into me, baby.”
“Will I?” She cocks one eyebrow, awaiting whatever he’s got in mind.
“Ready?” he asks, his broad, exposed chest catching her eye.
“As if you need to ask.”
He swings open the bedroom door and inside, she finds what he’s prepared for her.
“Wow,” she responds.
They step inside the room and Charlotte carefully examines the setup.
It requires precisely a second’s thought before she tells him, “Me likey.”
He shuts their bedroom door and locks it, telling her, “Oh, I knew you would.”
“How did you manage this without me knowing?”
He grins. “While you read the children their bedtime story tonight… I raided the store cupboard. I’ve had his stuff hidden away for weeks.”
She removes her silk dressing gown and asks, “Where do you want me? How do you want me?”
“Naked, and of course, on the table.”
She grins and complies.
Heading for the professional looking massage table set up next to their bed, she uses the height of their bed to make a tiny leap from there onto the table, without all the fuss of inelegantly pole-vaulting while naked.
Noah removes his robe and chuckles. “I would have helped you hop on.”
“You’ve got it set at your height. Don’t you know these things move up and down?”
“Talking of things that move up and down…” He motions at the contents of his boxer shorts. “…I just saw my sexy, voluptuously gorgeous wife get naked and I got hard. Only ever you, baby.”
“I feel exalted,” she cackles.
Her face not yet in the circular holder, she keeps her eyes on him and watches as he works his way around the room. The lights are already dimmed and their red furnishings and dark wood furniture throb with almost as much sexual intensity as Charlotte; the low lights making everything look blood-red.
Noah lights an oil burner and some candles. “You love massaging me and together, we’ve had some pretty fucking amazing massages together. So… I thought I’d take a little course in secret.”
Cracking his knuckles, she giggles.
“You took an actual course? When?”
“Oh yeah, laughing now aren’t you? When these magic hands touch your body… we’ll see eh?”
“I loved your hands even before you took a course.” She winks, sending him an air kiss. They’ve always loved rubbing one another but she never expected this level of commitment from him.
“Hush. Now, put your head in the holder. And prepare for a professional, full-body, all over, top to toe, toe curling, titillating, possibly also terrifying massage from your husband.”
She lifts her head slightly and barks out a loud laugh. “Fucking hell, Noah.”
He forces her head in the holder and tips half a bottle of massage oil straight onto her back. Slightly warmed, he watches as she shivers with delight, little slippery drips wriggling between the dips and valleys of her back.
“I still love your fucking magnificent back,” he compliments her.
“You’re still a very dirty bastard, even three kids and a shit load of sleepless nights later.”
“Never fucking slept, me.”
“Ahhhh ohhhh baaaa-haaaa-ahhhh,” she groans, as he begins working out the knots around her shoulder blades.
“That good, eh?”
She doesn’t want to tell him that the experience is all the better for it being his hands on her.
“Well,” he continues working, “I thought why bother yourself going to a spa for your massages when you could have them right here, at home?”
“Sooooo gooooddd,” she agrees. “Just so I know, did you get a certificate? Will you be putting it up with your degrees on the office wall?”
“Behave, Charley, behave,” he warns.
She chuckles, before a weighty silence falls. “I love you, Noah.”
“I know baby. We’ll be quiet now so you can relax and unwind, let your mind float away. I have music, if you’d like?”
Noah reaches for his phone and the speakers on the wall began playing tracks by Enya.
“Okay, quiet now,” he suggests.
She lies quiet and while she does, he admires her body, inch by inch. Working on her lymph glands, he watches as her body swells and heats with relaxation. Slowly, so he doesn’t shock her, he inches his hands to the base of her back and gives her kidneys a little workout, but not so she’ll suffer in the morning. Gradually his hands sweep over the swells at the tops of her buttocks and she lies completely still.
By the time he’s massaging the pads of her toes and the delicate skin in between, he realises she’s not moved or responded for a while.
Moving to the head of the table, he gently lifts her and finds she’s asleep.
Patting her down dry, he gently lifts her from the table and carries her into bed. Turning off the candles and the heated oil, he joins her under the covers naked.
Cuddling, she tells him sleepily, “I’ve ruined it.”
“No, no, it was perfect.”
He did what he set out to do – helping her relax and float away. He knows how stressful Christmas can be for Charlotte, with her family landing on their doorstep every Christmas morning, bringing with them too many extravagant gifts and all their own children, too. Noah bought their Nottinghamshire hideaway in Sherwood Forest, knowing their property would be such a place for big family get-togethers. He’d never wanted a family, not until he met Charlotte.
She rests in his arms and he begins knotting her hair round his fingers.
“I’ve never been happier,” he says to the room as she snores gently, her body rising and falling on top of his.
In the middle of the night, Noah hears something creeping on the stairs and shoots out of bed, stomping down the hallway to see what’s happening.
When he gets to the top of the staircase, he sees it’s actually Clement, their Irish Setter.
“Clement, bed. Now.”
The dog cowers and rushes away back downstairs and into the kitchen, where he sleeps by the radiator. Still, that never stops the naughty canine from trying to sneak into bed with Xander, his favourite heat source.
Getting back into bed, Charlotte complains, “God you’re cold.”
“Better warm me up then.”
She kicks him away and he fights to get some of her warmth.
“Am I really the only person who doesn’t do whatever you say?”
“Yes, you bloody bad wife.”
“How bad?” She turns and bites her lip. “I mean, do you want your nasty Christmas present now?”
He chuckles quietly. “It’s four a.m.”
She snickers. “Okay, then!”
Jumping off the bed, she races to the chest nearest her bed and opens a drawer. From inside, she drags out a pair of lace, crotch-less panties.
He draws breath.
“You know I hate these,” she says, swinging the garment on her finger.
“Well, I don’t!”
“Hmm, so I have a compromise.”
Out of the same drawer, she pulls a second, matching pair, and asks, “If you will, I will.”
“My size?” He looks at her seriously.
“Dirty fuck. Is that all you can ask?”
“Are they my size or what?”
“Am I me, or what?”
She flings his pair at him and immediately, his rigid cock and balls hang outrageously from the slit where the gusset should be.
Standing by the side of the bed, she slips hers on and touches herself.
“That’s vile,” she tells him, clearly aroused.
“You better lock the door again,” he murmurs.
She giggles and walks to the door to lock it.
Turning to walk back to the bed, she stares at the sight of him sprouting from the red knickers with black trim and groans, “I can’t wait.”
Climbing onto the bed, she straddles him and they fix themselves together, the base of his cock grating against the rough lace. The bonus is her clit grazes it every time she shimmies herself around his length.
“I need you,” she says, and he understands.
Rolling her beneath him, he kisses her, hands entwined, bodies shifting slowly.
He licks her breasts and grows harder, filling more of her.
Enjoying his coarse beard, she tugs at his greying blonde hair and runs her hands around all the planes she’s so familiar with.
Before long – as is their custom – her panties are ripped from her.
However, his remain – a new custom.
He lifts slightly so they can both watch his cock protruding from the slit, his muscled body unsuited to such delicate underwear.
There’s just something about the sight of it that has them both highly aroused.
“You’ll come, Charley.”
He hits her hard and deep a few times, and she comes.
Ripping the knickers off himself afterwards, he agrees, “Vile things.”
“Knew you’d go off them, as soon as you tried them for yourself.” Snaking around one another, they cuddle tightly. Charley throws her leg across his body and murmurs, “You know I always do it better.”
“Pardon fucking me, but if you’d stayed awake longer earlier, I was going to massage these ginormous breasts and your glorious pussy. It was no ordinary massage course, believe fucking me.”
“I had all your pressure points mapped out in my head,” he insists, “it would have been marvellous.”
“This is marvellous,” she says, “just this.”
“Yes, it’s quite wonderful, Charley. I fall more in love every year, with how you feel in my arms, princess.”
She brushes her cheek against his rough chest hair and his heart falls open, a rarity, but it happens. Rushing kisses over her hands, he groans desperately into her hair.
Backtracking a little, offsetting his saccharine declaration, he adds authoritatively, “I do love catering to your depraved needs, and now my service includes professional massages, I know my hands will never again know more rewarding work. Nor will they ever touch a more magnificent form than yours. I chose well with you, wife.”
Smiling into his eyes, she asks, “Pinch me.”
He does, he pinches her.
When she realises she’s awake, she giggles and kisses him, and they murmur until sunrise – when Noah’s bellowing, acerbic wit comes out to play again to tame their two boys, a girl and that rapscallion Irish Setter.
The story of how Noah and Charlotte met can be read in the novels A Fine Profession and A Fine Pursuit. Their sexual adventures can also be read in Bedtime Confessions and One True Lover, short but very arousing tales. Visit Amazon to learn more about Sarah’s writing: http://author.to/sarahmichellelynch
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Books by Sarah Michelle Lynch:
Sarah has released a new book today, you can now get Beyond Angel Avenue here: http://mybook.to/beyondangelavenue
A Fine Profession
A Fine Pursuit
Bedtime Confessions (a companion)
One True Lover (a companion)
Sub Rosa Trilogy:
Fabien: A Christmas Tale
Fabien Is Mine
I’m Yours, Fabien
Beyond Angel Avenue
The Sentient (coming soon)