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Message-ID: <28004asstr$977591405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: uscanada001@aol.com (Us Canada 001)
Subject: {ASSM} A Christmas for Carole (MF)
Date: Sat, 23 Dec 2000 12:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Archive name: carole.txt (mf)
Authors name: Heatheranne (hthranne@aol.com)
Story title : A Christmas for Carole

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This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2000.
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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A Christmas for Carole
By Heatheranne (hthranne@aol.com)
An erotic tale for adults only. (mf)

**

It was a beautiful library. Two walls of dark wood 
shelves held numerous books and knickknacks and the 
sort of awards and honors and sporting trophies that a 
successful man earns in a lifetime. The room's wood 
paneled walls were decorated with hunting prints and 
landscapes. There was a rock-faced fireplace hissing 
with the flickering flames of gas logs. At one end of 
the room was large wooden desk stained to match the 
walls and shelves. Seated at the desk was a middle-aged 
man. He looked fit and trim with a full face and dark 
hair that was highlighted with silver highlights. The 
man was absorbed in the information he was gleaning 
from a computer monitor that took up a corner of the 
desk. 

At the other end of the room a door opened and a woman 
appeared in the doorway. She struck a little pose, one 
hand resting high up on the doorframe and a leg, bent 
at the knee, thrust in front just a bit. She smiled 
seductively at the man behind the desk, but her smile 
was completely lost on the man, who never looked up. In 
fact he looked up neither when she daintily cleared her 
throat, nor when she gave him a full phlegm-clearing 
rattle. 

"John," she called, managing to draw out the single 
syllable into a low, seductive three-note love call. 

"Hmmm?" John said, finally raising his head. His gaze 
fell across the room to his wife. In her mid-twenties, 
two decades younger than her husband, the tall blonde 
looked stunning. She was wearing a red babydoll 
negligee trimmed with white fur-like marabou around the 
neckline and hem. In one hand she held a small bottle 
of wine and two glasses. "Carole," he smiled, "you look 
good enough to eat." 

Carole gave him a shy smile and then she pirouetted, 
revealing nothing in the way of underclothing when the 
hem of her babydoll swirled up. She curtsied and said, 
"Eating me is sort of what I had in mind, good sir." 
Then she grew more serious, "John, it's Christmas Eve. 
She held up the wine and glasses to eye level. The fine 
crystal made a tinkling sound. "Can't you set aside 
time from your business for a little fun?" 

"Unfortunately babe, business competition doesn't 
recognize holidays, but if you'll pour the wine, I'll 
be there just as soon as I finish this report." 

Carole saw her husband turn his attention back to the 
computer screen. In a second he was completely 
engrossed. She sighed; it was as if she hadn't been in 
the room at all. Shoulders slumped; she turned and left 
the library, softly closing the door behind her.

John continued to read until the words began to blur on 
the screen. He leaned back in his chair and massaged 
his eyes with his fingertips. He rubbed his hand across 
his face, trying to wipe away his weariness. Just one 
more page and he would finish the report and then he 
could go to bed. John leaned forward and peered back at 
the computer monitor.

"Hello John," said a menacing, dark haired woman from 
the screen. 

"Ha!" cried John, jerking upright in his chair. The 
woman on the screen was his long dead first wife, 
Markie. She was dressed in a hideous orange nylon over-
stuffed winter coat and on her head was a pink stocking 
cap with a purple ball at its crown.

A dozen things went through John's mind. His computer 
wasn't running the Internet browser, so it couldn't be 
some sort of transmission. He didn't have any pictures 
of his former spouse in the computer. In fact, he 
couldn't remember any time when she would have been 
dressed like the woman on the screen. Was this some 
kind of joke? He continued to stare in amazement at the 
image on the screen. He and Markie hadn't had a 
particularly exciting marriage. He'd worked at building 
a successful business. In fact he'd worked a lot and 
made a pile of money and spent what little free time he 
had on the golf course. Markie had seemed content to 
spend her fair share of that pile of money on herself 
and run their social life. They had rattled on like 
that for years, childless, and sort of content with 
their own separate lives until Markie made an ill timed 
left turn into the path of an eighteen-wheeler and John 
became a widower.

"Come on John, say something," commanded the woman on 
the screen.

John reached for the keyboard.

"This isn't a chat room John, just talk to me."

"You can hear me?" asked John, his voice a couple of 
octaves above normal.

"Obviously I can hear you. I'm not a program, John. I'm 
the spirit of your loving wife."

"Uh...OK Markie, why are you here, and..." he gestured 
at the screen, "why on earth are you wearing that awful 
coat and stocking cap."

"I've been sent here to try and redeem some part of 
your shriveled soul. And as far as these clothes are 
concerned, you know, you wear in death those things you 
make for yourself in life."

John frowned at the thick winter clothing, "I don't 
remember you being particularly cold natured when we 
were married."

"For goodness sakes John, it's a metaphor. These awful 
things show how I became frigid in our marriage. And 
frankly, I blame you."

John became defensive, "I know our sex life was sort of 
hit and miss, but I always did my best. I didn't get a 
lot of practice. You were hardly ever in the mood."

"Are you kidding? Maybe I would have been in the mood 
more often if you had spent more time at home instead 
of the office. In fact, when I was in the mood, as you 
put it, I practically had to tackle and rape you before 
you could run back to work." Markie took a deep breath 
and waved her hand in front of her face. "Never mind 
that, the time for our relationship has passed. Now 
listen, three more spirits will visit you tonight. I'm 
sure you know the drill. Maybe you'll learn something."

John had regained some measure of composure and he was 
a little miffed at being blamed for their poor marital 
life. He knew that he hadn't been a great husband, but 
he'd done his best. "Come on Markie, I don't want to 
waste sleep on this Dickensian stuff, can't you just 
make your point now?"

"Sorry John, the powers that be just called me in for 
the intro'. Actually, most of my spirit is about a 
thousand universes over that way." She jerked a thumb 
over her shoulder. "I'm studying to become a minor 
deity. I only wish the sentient beings there didn't 
have such an awful shade of green skin. "Oh well," she 
began to fade away. "Good luck, John." She disappeared.

John groaned. Was this some sort of waking dream 
brought about by too much work? Would he be scared 
witless out of his sleep three times in one night as 
the spirits invaded his bedroom? And how about Carole, 
would she sleep through all these visitations? He 
paused. Carole. What was he was supposed to remember 
about Carole?

"Ahem."

John shivered, startled once again. There was another 
figure on his computer screen. It was a nice looking 
young lady dressed something like a flight attendant. 

"Hello, I am the Spirit of Christmas past. We feel..."

John interrupted, "Can you hear me?" 

She tossed her auburn hair and looked a bit testy. "Of 
course I can hear you. Now if you please, I have a long 
night ahead of me."

"Sorry," mumbled John.

"No problem." She gestured to her right and a blank 
window appeared on the screen. "Now, as I was saying, 
we feel that, like a lot of men, you have some issues 
with intimacy. This episode, from a Christmas in your 
past, should give you insight into those issues." 

John hated the word issues used in that context, but he 
kept his mouth shut and dutifully watched as a picture 
appeared in the screen window. Almost immediately he 
recognized the scene that it revealed. He'd been 
sixteen years old. It was Christmas Eve sometime in the 
mid-nineteen sixties. His parents, who were real 
partygoers, had insisted that he accompany them to a 
dinner with friends. John had been pretty sure that 
since he had just received his driver's license that he 
was along as a chauffeur for his hard drinking parents. 

There were three married couples at the dinner - John's 
parents, the Halls and the Leathermans. Also present at 
the party was Kay Leatherman, the daughter of their 
hosts. Kay and John were in the same grade at the same 
school but rarely shared classes. 

There were plenty of before dinner drinks for the 
adults and John found himself sitting with the men in 
the Leatherman's comfortable den. John nodded his head 
and smiled at the older men as they managed to blend 
politics, the Vietnam War, football, the space program 
and car maintenance into an alcohol blurred 
conversation.

After dinner the men headed back to the den and the 
television for a football game while the wives 
adjourned to the kitchen with a bottle of wine. John 
was about to accompany the men when he heard Kay hiss 
his name. When he turned to look, Kay was curling a 
finger at him in a come here gesture. He followed the 
girl down some stairs to a family room in the basement. 
The main feature of the room was a pool table that 
stood at its center. There was also an old couch and a 
black and white television as well as the odds and ends 
and junk that a family collects.

Kay smiled, "I thought maybe you'd had enough of the 
adults."

"Yeah," said John, "they were getting pretty wasted."

"Would you like a drink?" she asked conspiratorially.

"A drink?" echoed John. He'd never had anything 
stronger than a sip or two of beer, but he knew he 
wasn't about to refuse Kay. She wasn't the prettiest 
girl in school, but she certainly had nothing to be 
ashamed of. She was of average height, with dark, 
straight, shoulder length hair. She was wearing a red 
and green tartan mini-skirt and a matching green 
sleeveless turtleneck blouse with a thin gold chain 
necklace. "Uh...sure," agreed John, "I'll have a drink, 
that is, if you are."

"Of course." Kay moved some junk that was in front of a 
low cabinet and opened it. She removed a bottle that 
proved to be half full of bourbon. Kay disappeared into 
a small bathroom and reappeared a minute later with two 
glasses nearly filled with a bourbon and water mix.
 
She handed one of the glasses to John. He didn't want 
to take a cautious little sip in front of Kay. So his 
first gulp was twice as much as he had intended. His 
first thought was, gahhh...how can anyone possibly 
drink this stuff? And then the burning started. He 
gasped. Of course that was a mistake. The fumes he in 
haled made him cough and his eyes began to water. 

Kay's eyes were laughing at him, but she managed to 
keep a straight face when she said, "Maybe I made yours 
a little too strong."

"Maybe," was all John could manage to gasp. But soon he 
realized that once the burning got past his throat, the 
bourbon produced a pleasant sensation. The warmth 
flowed down to his stomach, and then to his surprise, 
it seemed to sort of swell and tickle his penis. 

"Drink up," said Kay, "we don't want anyone to catch 
us."

John held his breath and gulped down the rest of the 
drink. He could feel his face begin to flush and he 
felt as if his senses were beginning to sort of ooze 
away from his brain. After Kay put away the bottle and 
glasses she grabbed a cue stick and said, "Lets play 
some pool."

John readily agreed and they rolled into a game of 
eight ball. Kay claimed that she hardly ever played and 
proved it by clumsily rolling the balls around the 
table to little effect. John didn't care. He spent the 
time he wasn't shooting by positioning himself to look 
at the generous amount of leg Kay showed every time she 
bent over the table. 

After John won the first game Kay smiled and said, "I 
lost, does that mean that I have to make us another 
drink?"

"Oh yeah." John was enjoying himself. Between the 
liquor and Kay's skin show he was a little light headed 
and sported a nice hard on. 

They downed another drink and started another game. Now 
they giggled at every miss and flubbed shot. John's 
cock was achingly hard. He took to giving it a little 
rub whenever Kay bent over the table. 

Suddenly she straightened up in the middle of lining up 
one of her shots and looked over her shoulder at John, 
"Are you looking at my butt?"

"Oh...nooo," said John, holding up his right hand, and 
crossing his heart with his left.

"Oh...OK" said Kay, with a little disappointment in her 
voice. She returned to her shot.

"I've been too busy looking at those beautiful legs to 
notice your butt." Oh God, thought John. Is this what 
liquor does to you? He couldn't believe he'd had the 
nerve to say that. 

Kay flattened out on the table, shaking with laughter. 
She finally managed to say, "Well stop it and show me 
what I'm doing wrong." 

John felt as if his fuzzy mind was just along for the 
ride as his body walked up behind Kay. He had the 
feeling that he'd seen this scene in a movie. He slid 
his warm hands down the length of Kay's bare arms until 
his hands rested on hers and his hard on nestled onto 
her firm butt. 

"You see," he spoke softly into her fragrant hair, 
"you're holding onto the cue much too firmly with your 
left hand." He moved the fingers of her left hand into 
a looser position. "The cue," he whispered as he slid 
the cue back and forth by guiding her right hand with 
his, "should move in and out, in and out like this." 
With each thrust of the cue he slid his erection up and 
down and side to side on Kay's tight butt. 

"I think I'm getting it now," said Kay. "Let me give it 
a try."

John slid his hands back up Kay's arms, but he wasn't 
about to move his burning body away from hers. He moved 
his hands underneath her arms and cupped her breasts. 
All John could feel was the sensation of the fabric of 
Kay's blouse slipping over her bra, but he thought it 
was the sexiest thing in the world.

Despite all of John's help - or perhaps because of it - 
Kay missed her shot. The two teens straightened up. Kay 
turned and looked into John's eyes. "No fair," she said 
in a throaty voice. Her hand slid down between their 
bodies until the back of Kay's had was brushing against 
John's erection. "Let's see if you can shoot with my 
body all over yours."

"Sounds fair to me," said John. His alcohol-fueled 
libido kicked into high gear and John leaned forward to 
Kay give a sloppy, wet kiss. At the same time he 
grabbed her hand and mashed Kay's palm against his 
stiff member. Kay's responded enthusiastically. Her 
tongue went into John's mouth and her fingers danced 
all over the bulge in his pants.

The result of which was that John creamed in his jeans 
right then and there. He couldn't help it. He felt hot 
cum streaming over the head of his cock and warming his 
groin. John broke off their kiss and jumped back in a 
panic. "Where's the bathroom?" he asked Kay franticly. 

"It's over there," she said in a confused voice as she 
pointed to a door in a corner of the room. 

John rushed into the bathroom and managed to clean out 
his under shorts before the wetness could stain his 
blue jeans. He looked at himself in the bathroom 
mirror. God, he was such a weenie. Did Kay realize what 
had happened? She was probably out there laughing at 
him right now.

Back in his library the older John protested to his 
spirit guide on the computer monitor, "Hey, I was only 
sixteen. I couldn't help it if I popped off like that."

"That's not where you went wrong John." She pointed to 
the long ago scene on the screen. John's younger self 
bolted out of the bathroom and without so much as a nod 
to Kay, he ran up the basement steps back to the adults 
and their party.

"It would have been nice if you'd stuck around," said 
the spirit. "After all, it would have taken 
you...what...five minutes at that age to be hard as a 
rock again? And you wouldn't have left poor Kay 
standing there, wondering what she'd done wrong. She 
liked you. She would have made a nice girlfriend for 
you."

Before John could say anything else the image of the 
Spirit of Christmas past on his monitor faded away. "Oh 
well," he mumbled, "I wonder when the spirit of 
Christmas present will show up."

There was a tap on his shoulder and voice behind him 
said, "How about now."

John yelped and he would have leaped out of his chair 
except that his thighs slammed into the bottom of his 
desk. "Oh damn," he moaned as he struggled out of his 
chair. The spirit who had been on the screen was now 
standing in his library, in the unsubstantial flesh, so 
to speak. "What are you trying to do?" complained John. 
"Give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry," said the spirit. "We wouldn't want you to have 
a heart attack, at least not yet," she said in a non-
joking tone of voice.

"Does this mean that you're going to be all three of my 
spirits?"

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, " I can 
change my appearance if you like." Suddenly, the spirit 
was an eight-foot tall monster with six-inch fangs 
hanging from her upper jaw.

"No, no that's all right," cried John. He was relieved 
when the spirit returned to being a petite female. 
"Ahem...well..."said John as he stood and rubbed his 
sore thighs. "Since you're now the spirit of Christmas 
present I suppose we must visit some Christmas Eve 
party or other."

"Correct," said the spirit. "It's nice when my clients 
are familiar with the agenda." She touched the sleeve 
of his shirt and suddenly, frighteningly, and without 
moving his legs John felt himself accelerating toward 
the fireplace and its flames. Before he could cry out 
though, they had passed through the flames unharmed and 
John opened his eyes to see his downtown business 
office.

There was indeed a lively Christmas party in progress. 
Someone had placed a small, decorated tree on the 
office conference table and all around the tree were 
wrapped packages. One end of the table was devoted to 
hors d'oeuvres and a generous supply of liquor. 

John smiled, "I'm glad to see everyone is having a good 
time." The office workers passed by John and the spirit 
without giving them so much as a smile or nod. "I 
suppose no one can see or hear us?" John asked the 
spirit.

She gave him a thumbs-up and a sarcastic little smile. 

"Well what's the matter with this?" asked John 
defensively as he gestured to the revelers. "I paid for 
the party. I even picked out the gifts personally for 
some of the senior staff."

The spirit shook her head. "You were very generous, but 
you could have stayed an hour after work to attend the 
party. Even though you're their boss, most of these 
people like you. They would have felt even closer to 
you if they could have thanked you for the party and 
presents."

John frowned, "Look I spent a lot of time and money on 
these people, besides I'm sure Ms Smathers, my 
assistant, has me covered quite nicely." He looked 
around the office. "Where is Ms Smathers? I don't see 
her. Don't tell me she's still working."

"Let's go see," said the spirit as she once again 
touched John's sleeve and another wall across the room 
rushed at them.

"Damn," cursed John. "There's a door right over there. 
I wish you'd..." He stopped in mid-complaint at the 
scene before him and the spirit. They were in the small 
room that housed the office's sophisticated 
printer/copier and shelf after shelf of office 
supplies. The room was usually the domain of an intern 
or trainee hired by Ms Smathers. In fact, a trainee and 
his trainer occupied the room. Ms Smathers was seated 
on the edge of an office chair, her skirt around her 
waist. She had her panties in one hand and a bottle of 
vodka in the other. She had a ridiculously large 
Santa's elf hat pulled down over her ears. Between her 
legs, on his knees, was the trainee. He was a handsome 
young African-American who was doing his best to bury 
his face in her crotch. 

"Oh yeah," Ms Smathers cried out. She took a swig from 
the bottle and hunched her hips lower in the chair. 
"Eat that pussy my black stud." 

"Eat that pussy my black stud?" echoed John 
incredulously. "I didn't think the old girl had it in 
her." John chuckled, "She's having a merrier Christmas 
than I thought she could."

"Yes...well," said the spirit quite primly. "It's 
obvious that Ms Smathers is not covering for you, as 
you put it. Now let's move on."
 
This time John managed not to flinch to badly as they 
seemed to pass through the wall of the office. 
Instantly they emerged into John's bedroom. When he saw 
Carole lying on the bed, John smacked himself on the 
forehead and groaned, "Oh shit, I forgot Carole was 
waiting on me."

The spirit just shook her head. Carole was still in her 
very revealing lingerie, but evidently she'd given up 
on John. The bottle of wine remained unopened. There 
was a stack of papers on the bed and Carole was marking 
them with a red pen. "That's a lot of woman to forget," 
said the spirit.

"You're telling me," agreed John. "She's not only 
gorgeous and a talented athlete. She's a school teacher 
and she manages my charity foundation."

"And she picked you to marry."

John shrugged, "Yes, she's twenty years my junior and 
she could have had any guy she wanted. But," he sighed, 
"I'm very rich and..."

The spirit mumbled, "They always stay in denial until 
the end." She didn't merely touch his sleeve this time; 
she grabbed John's shirtfront in her fist and yanked 
him through the nearest wall. 

There was a flash of light and John was blinded by 
glare until he realized that he was squinting into an 
early afternoon winter sun. 

He blinked his eyes until they cleared and he could 
look around. He and the spirit were standing on the 
porch of what he called his 'little mountain cabin'. It 
was actually the former hunting lodge of an outdoors 
club. The lodge could house twenty people comfortably 
and it was situated in the middle of a thousand acres 
of private forest. 

The door to the lodge opened and Carole stepped into 
the cool afternoon air. She was wearing a golden fox 
faux-fur coat of mid-calf length and she was carrying 
what looked to be a bronze urn in the crook of one arm. 

She walked to the edge of the porch and placed the urn 
on the rough-hewn railing that had prevented many a 
drunken visitor from a nasty fall. For a long moment 
she stared out at the breathtaking view of the dark 
mountain peaks that receded into the distance.

John and Carole had shared that view many times, but he 
couldn't take his eyes away from the bronze urn. He 
asked the spirit, "Do I dare ask what or maybe who's in 
the urn?"

When he didn't hear an answer, John turned and looked 
at the spirit. Where her mouth should have been, there 
was smooth skin. "Oh...yeah" said John. "The spirit of 
Christmas future doesn't speak." 

He got another sarcastic thumbs up from the spirit. 

John turned again when he heard the door to the lodge 
open once more. And even though he was spending time 
with a time traveling apparition, John thought that 
what had just come through that door was the most 
startling thing he'd seen that night. A man in his 
early twenties had emerged from the lodge. He looked 
around and when he saw Carole he began to walk toward 
her. He was tall and trim and looked as if he spent 
hours in a gym every day toning each and every muscle 
in his body to perfection. And John knew that because 
the young man was totally naked. His blonde hair fell 
to his shoulders and he tossed it back carelessly as he 
walked across the porch with a dancer's grace. 

John shook his head in admiration. You sure had to hand 
it to the guy. Not many men could walk around naked 
like that with total nonchalance. Even that erect penis 
he was sporting seemed perfectly natural. 

Of course the capper to the moment was the fact that 
coming out of the door right behind the blonde stud was 
another guy who looked just like him. It had to be the 
first young man's identical twin. Identical except for 
a slight droop in the manhood department, that is. A 
condition he was working handily to correct.

The first man reached Jane's side. He very delicately 
opened the front of her coat. It became apparent to 
John that underneath the coat Carole was as naked as 
the man. 

The blonde stud cupped one of Carole's breasts as he 
kissed her. At first it was a soft, gentle brushing of 
lips, but then he pressed on and John quickly began to 
wonder if the man was trying to get absolutely all of 
his tongue down Carole's throat.

Finally the kiss ended and as the young stud tickled 
the head of his penis in the fur of Carole's coat, he 
spoke to her. "Please come back inside my dear. This 
cool air will make things shrink that should never grow 
smaller."

Carole smiled slightly at his joke. "You boys go keep 
the bed warm. I'll be there in a minute."

The man closed her coat, kissed Carole on the cheek and 
then he and his twin padded back into the lodge. 

Carole sighed deeply and lightly caressed the top of 
the urn. "John," she said, looking at the metal 
container, "I think I'll leave you here on the porch 
for a while. I hope you don't mind, but I'll feel more 
comfortable if you're out here while they're in there." 
She shook her head, "I'd much rather be spending my 
Christmas with you. I'll never love another."

She touched the urn once more. "OK...later we'll ride 
out on the ridge and I'll spread your ashes like I 
promised." She took a deep breath and glanced over her 
shoulder at the lodge door. "But right now I'm going to 
go chase away my blues with two very expensive sex 
toys." With that she made her way back inside.

John looked stunned. He sat down heavily on a nearby 
chair and then lowered his head until it was resting on 
the porch railing. The rough wood of the railing bit 
into the side of his face, but John didn't notice. He 
gazed at the urn and asked the spirit, "I guess this 
isn't too far in the future. Is it? I mean Carole 
doesn't look much older."

"Beep," intoned the spirit.

"Beep?" echoed John. "OK, so you can't talk, but I 
swear I've learned my lesson," he said.

"Beep," intoned the spirit once more. 

John closed his eyes. Lights began to strobe beyond his 
eyelids. "Please," begged John. "I just want to go 
home."

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep," said the spirit. 

John jerked upright with a gasp. Suddenly, he was back 
in his library. The side of his face ached and John 
realized that he had passed out, face down, on the 
computer's keyboard. The beeping and flashing lights 
had come from the computer complaining about his abuse 
of its keys. 

So I'm back, thought John. Or had it all been a dream? 
He thoughtfully rubbed his fingertips across the little 
dents in his cheek. Were they computer key dents or 
rough wood dents? If it had been a dream, it had 
certainly been a real one.

Across the room an antique clock chimed the midnight 
hour. It's Christmas day, thought John. He wasn't going 
to ignore Carole for another second, or ever again he 
amended. He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a 
small package wrapped in gold paper and sealed with a 
Christmas ribbon. The package contained a diamond 
bracelet for Carole. The cost of the present had made 
John, even with his deep pockets, hesitate before he 
handed over his credit card. 

John was almost out of the library before he slowed to 
a stop, turned and went back to his desk. He put the 
bracelet back in its place, quietly closed the drawer, 
and then he nearly broke into a run as he hurried to 
the bedroom.

Carole was still there. She had fallen asleep as she 
graded papers. Apparently she had felt a chill in her 
sleep because she was all wrapped up in a comforter and 
her student's papers. The papers crinkled with each 
breath she took.

John carefully pulled back the comforter. He gathered 
up all the papers and stacked them neatly on the 
nightstand along with her marking pen. Then he bent 
over and kissed Carole lightly on the forehead and 
whispered, "I love you."

He kissed the bridge of her nose and whispered, "I love 
you." He kissed her eyes and cheeks and lips with an, 
"I love you," between each kiss. 

He was about move on to more erotic areas when John 
felt Carole's cool arms slide around his neck. "Merry 
Christmas," he said softly. "Would you like to open 
presents now?" 

"Oh John," she said in an emotion filled voice, "you're 
the only present I really want."

John gave her warmest smile he could manage. He knew in 
his heart, finally, that she meant every word. 

End

My other stories are stored at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Kristen/www/heather/index.htm

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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