Jennifer and Amber At Christmas (Mff, nymphets)
A holiday interlude with nymphets
Naughty Gaffer  brndtag at mcn.net
The Christmas season is famous for being hard on lonely people and it’s sometimes hard for me. For a few days each year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I feel the loss of my darling one more than at other times. That grief is strongest over our anniversary or her birthday. I am so much more blessed than some I know; their wives or husbands are gone, they are far from their children’s hearts or their grandchildren’s hearts, and every cheerful song or TV show is a reminder of what they’ve lost. Some of them didn’t lose it because they never had it. I am close to my son and my daughter; my daughter-in-law and my son-in-law are welcoming and delightful; I spend Christmas day with whichever family is in town, since usually one family goes to see the other grandparents. It varies from year to year but there are always many people, many of them children, around me at Christmas.
None of them are my beloved one and they can never be. So during the season, on days when I’m on my own, I do miss her. Of course I do.
I had last seen my nymphets the first week of December. I must tell that tale sometime. It was a glorious romp of young fun, first in the snow, then in a bath to warm my girls up, then in bed. I had awakened alone and with their lively scent still lingering. Now it was December 23rd. This year was unusual because both families were in town. I would spend Christmas Eve with my son’s family, Christmas day with my daughter’s family. I was looking forward to seeing all of my loved ones except the one I couldn’t see and I was dreaming of her when I woke to find Jennifer and Amber standing by my chair.
They were certainly in the spirit. They wore green dresses trimmed with red and red Santa hats.