This is not just a holiday story, but rather a tale of two newly weds, Rachel and Geoffrey, who have begun a new holiday tradition on this, their first Hanukkah together. In the spirit of the holiday they are exchanging eight sexy gifts on each of the eight nights. You don't need to be Jewish to appreciate the story. Neither must you have read the other parts of the series, but you might appreciate it more if you have. Enjoy!
"Yeah, I know we said we'd spend the holiday together just the two of us, honey, but your mom asked us over. What was I supposed to say?" I too was a little disappointed since tonight it was my turn tonight to get a sexy present.
"Tell Mom we're engaging in a new holiday tradition and that I'm planning to fuck you thoroughly tonight," he said straight-faced. I giggled, picturing his mother's face turning beet red from such a lascivious comment.
"Listen, we'll go, we'll have a little dinner, we'll light some candles and we'll sit around and chit chat for a while. No big deal." Looking over at him pouting only made me more amused. How cute. He's almost more anxious to give me my sexy present than he was to get his last night.
~~~~~
"So tell me, Geoffrey, what did Rachel get you?" his mother asked.
Geoffrey froze, his forkful of pot roast nearing his mouth, and I stifled a giggle. Geoffrey was very good at improvisation but not with his mother.
"Wow, must have been something really special," she said, seeing his startled reaction. "Come on, what was it?" Geoffrey's father rolled his eyes. He had long since stopped being surprised at his wife's prying and invasive questioning.
Choosing my words carefully so as to be truthful but not too truthful, I answered. "We just spent a quiet evening at home alone together. It was nice."
Geoffrey's mother opened her mouth to step up the questioning but his father put an end to it quickly. "Rhoda, they're newlyweds. Give them a break. Is there any more pot roast?"
After a while we retired to the living room, immaculately clean and decorated with slightly outdated but pristine furniture. Geoffrey had told me that as a child he was never allowed to sit or even go near these white couches, and that they were only for company. No wonder then that he seemed so uncomfortable sitting next to me. It was ingrained into him early on that he might ruin them just with his presence.
"You're awfully quiet, honey. Are you ok?" his mother asked him with genuine concern. I knew he had probably spent the whole night thinking about last night, my surprise tonight and the rest of the holiday, all while trying not to have an erection at his parents' house.
"You know, Mom, I think I might be coming down with something." My eyes widened and for a very brief moment I was concerned. He turned to me and, away from his parents' view, he winked at me. What a bad boy he is, I thought, and I again stifled a giggle.
"Yeah, maybe I should take him home. He needs his rest," I said with a simulated worried tone.
"Here, honey, let me get you some chicken soup for later. I have some in the freezer." His mother flew out of her seat toward the kitchen and again I saw his father roll his eyes. She was sure that any illness that couldn't be fixed with chicken soup must be life-threatening, so we knew from experience that it would do no good to argue.
From the kitchen she emerged with a paper sack filled with frozen Tupperware bowls of soup and who knows what else. We were already standing at the door with our coats on and Geoffrey holding his keys in his hand. Hoping his mother couldn't tell how anxious we were to get home, we thanked them for the soup and quickly exited.
In the car it was my turn to beg for a hint. Only my reasoning was valid, I argued. I deserved a hint since it was already well past sunset. Geoffrey just smiled and wouldn't budge. That man could be such a tease sometimes.
We changed into t-shirts and underwear and as I sat on the couch, Geoffrey ran to his "secret" hiding place. I'd happened upon this "secret" hiding place months ago while trying to find a bank statement in the third drawer down of his office filing cabinet. He kept a surreptitious stash of porn there as well as some old letters I didn't read. I've never been anti-porn but I knew that men had funny ideas about illicit erotic materials. Apparently some of the sexiness of looking at porn was tied to it being forbidden. In any case, I'd never question where my man gets his appetite as long and he always comes home for dinner.
Bounding from the office, he held several small packages and again it struck me how adorable he was, giddy with excitement. He gave me the packages in order and I opened them somewhat quickly, no sense in torturing him further.
