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Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1

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Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1.
Ditzy Donna and Ralphie's first Christmas.

Based on a post by Kirk

48 2002, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.



"I really did used to like the

holidays," grumbled Ralphie Persons Junior; as he rubbed the same spot on
his head that he'd whacked several times in a row on the same slanted ceiling
beam. It was the first weekend in December, and he was crawling around the attic,
looking for boxes of holiday decorations, that his mother wanted hauled
downstairs and put up, the day after Thanksgiving. Having just started his first
term at community college, Ralphie Jr. managed to dodge that bullet by complaining that
he had a couple of papers due in English Composition and Early American
History. The papers being due the Monday after Thanksgiving was true, but he'd
left out the part that they were already finished. With a mighty grunt, he
shoved a box of Easter lawn decorations aside and hit his head again. That time
he saw stars. "If she wants them down so bad, why doesn't she do it?"
he grumbled louder to himself.

"Because she's more than twice

your age, she doesn't like to hit her head, and she's got you to do it,"
said Ralph Sr., looking like a disembodied head sticking up, out of the floor of
the attic. "Now, if you're done complaining, I'm sure you've got some boxes to
come down; so pass them to me and I'll take them down the ladder for you."

That suited Ralphie just fine,

because trying to balance the boxes as he slid out the access hole, and then
find his footing on the ladder; was no easy chore. He pushed what he already had
found, toward the opening and looked for more. After hitting his head once more,
he was convinced he'd found them all. "I think that's it, Pop."

"You're missing the box with

the tree ornaments," came his mom's voice through the access way.

Ralphie took a deep breath and

counted to ten. "Alright mom, I'll keep looking," Jr. said, sounding a
bit miffed. Actually sounding a lot miffed.

"We're gonna go and start

setting up the outside lights and blow up characters," said his Pop
through the hatchway. "That'll keep us out of your way a while and let you
blow off some steam. I don't want you saying something to your mother the wrong
way and have you regret it later."

"Okay," sighed Ralphie,

nodding his head as his Pop disappeared down the hatch. He took a long look
around the attic and didn't see a box marked ornaments, so he decided to
straighten and organize the entire loft by opening each box and marking them.
He found that some of the boxes had his old clothes that he wore in grade
school."Why doesn't she get rid of this stuff?" he
thought to himself. Then he chuckled."If she's waiting for grandkids
she's got a long wait."

He didn't really have a girlfriend

but his parents thought he did. For some reason they both kept pushing the idea
of him and the girl he took to the prom, Louise Johnson, as being a couple."A
couple of dorks," he thought. Actually, he did take Louise AKA
'Looney Louise,' out on a few dates during the summer. She was kind of funny and
interesting, but her shenanigans and her perpendicular hair, far outweighed the
positives, except for her tits. "Whew," Jr. said, shaking his head at
the thought of them. He remembered when she showed them to him, and he started
to daydream.

Double Feature.

They were in the back of the movie

theater and she was jamming popcorn in her mouth. He saw that she had as much
'fruit of the Redenbacher' on her shirt as she still had in her trough of
popcorn. "I think you better do something," he said, pointing in the
general direction of her breasts.

She put the bucket under her boobs

and pushed the lucky kernels back in causing her breasts to bounce several
times. "There, better?"

Other than a few genuine imitation

butter stains she was all clean. She settled back in her seat and shifted
around a bit almost slumping, forcing her breasts up and out. Between the seat
in front of her and her tits in her face, Ralphie didn't think she could see
the screen. He didn't realize he was staring at her, until her eyes slowly
turned toward him.

"Imagination running wild?" she whispered, placing

her trough of corn on the floor. "I bet you've got a hundred different
visions of what they look like, going on in your head. What do you think
they look like?"

Ralphie sat there with his mouth

agape.

"Oh come on. Maybe they're

perky, droopy, hard, or soft. Maybe they have veins all over them. Maybe my
nipples are large like acorns, small like cherry pits, or even big and
puffy," she whispered, encouraging him in her game.

Ralphie still sat there with his

mouth agaip.

She sighed. "No idea, huh?

Okay," she said, unbuttoning her blouse down to her navel and unclasping
the front hook on her bra. She snapped them open and said, "Behold!"

Attic of Family Artifacts.

He was startled out of his obcessions by his father's strong voice.
"Junior, did you find them yet?" his Pops voice said from the hole.

"No, I decided to go through

everything while I was up here. By the way, why is Mom saving all my old
clothes? Some of this stuff goes back to first grade," he yelled loud
enough for his Pop to hear.

"I don't think she's actually

saving it. It was more like putting winter or summer clothes away till next
year but you grew out of them and they just didn't come back down. Mark those
boxes 'Donations', slide them toward the hatch, and we'll get them down the
road to the Goodwill later. Just make sure you go through every box you want to
donate to make sure there isn't anything important in them," yelled Pop.

"Okay," Ralphie yelled

back.

Thinking back to Louise, as he continued

his work, it reminded him that he hadn't heard from her since she went out west
to college. She didn't come home for Thanksgiving, and he wondered if she was
coming around for the Christmas break. Several times, he thought to call to
just say hello; but she didn't have a cell phone, (something about messing up her
brain waves). He didn't have any idea exactly where she was staying out there;
so that was that.

Eventually, Ralphie found the

ornaments and pushed them toward the hatch. The other holiday decorations were
neatly stacked by which event came next on the calendar; and all that was left was for him to go
through the boxes he marked 'Donations'.

Most had nothing but clothes in them and a few had some old grade school projects in them like a Thanksgiving turkey

made from a tracing of his hand. He put that kind of stuff aside for
safekeeping and opened the last box. Under some toddler clothes, he found some
folders and spiral wire-bound notebooks that belonged to his Pop. The folders contained some
receipts and warranties for products long gone. Like that fax machine, and the Commodore Computer.

The wire bound notebooks had

some recipes and newspaper clippings about people his parents knew. One of the
books had some writing in it, kind of like the notebook he'd found in the
garage that spring. He flipped through it and saw some of those same magic
words he'd seen in the last book like, 'boobs and tits'. That was dad's old email password for his AOL account.
On the first page, it
had a header and a title:

"Journal:
Thursday, December 26,

1974."

"Christmas With the Ditz"

Ralphie settled himself under the dangling light and

pulled the string to turn it on. "Okay Pop, entertain me," he said as
he began to read...

Dating Donna.

It's been two weeks since she came back into my life. Donna.

Ditzy Donna. I figured I'd write this down while it's still fresh in my mind.
It's been kind of a crazy two weeks but what other kind would it be with her?
She made the decision not to move in permanently with me until she found a job
to help contribute. The job hunt took exactly fifteen minutes when she walked
two blocks to Kiddie City and landed a job demonstrating toys. That sure took a
stretch of imagination to see her potential as a goof-ball playing with toys
for kids. At least she didn't have to go too far for the party favors she wore
out on a regular basis. Her smock was always loaded down with a usual
assortment as well as her favorite, a pair of Groucho glasses. The guy that
hired Donna remembered her from somewhere in the past and gave her a huge
starting rate. Most people started at two dollars and hour but he gave Donna
six. I'm still a little jealous of that, considering I've worked for the same
place since junior high school and don't make much more than that.

By Wednesday of her first week, the manager realized he had

a goldmine with her and worked her as long as she wanted. When they closed
Saturday night, they gave her a paycheck for sixty-four hours at $6.00 an hour
plus overtime, plus a hundred-dollar bonus for a job well done. The boss even
cashed the check for her. Suddenly Donna was a rich ditz with the next day off
and Christmas coming a few days later. On that Saturday night, the 21st, the
true meaning of Christmas started to come shining through: Love, generosity,
and ditzyness.

Shopping Spree.

I heard the door slam and came out of the bedroom.

"Look," yelled Donna, fanning her riches out in

front of me.

"They could be all ones," I said, standing on the

other side of the room.

She bunny hopped herself over to me and flapped the fanned

greenbacks in my face. Nope, they were all twenties and tens and as crisp as
the day they were made. "We got to go shopping," she said, slurring
her words from a dollar induced high.

I looked at my watch and said, "It's nine-thirty,

everything's closed."

She crossed her eyes and gave me a Bronx cheer. "It's

the Saturday before Christmas! Everything is open until midnight!"

"You said you wanted to go out to eat tonight. We can't

shop and eat at the same time," I said. Donna suddenly looked very
disappointed.

"Come on, Ralph. I worked real hard this week for

this," she said, letting her fist full of dollars flop down to her side.
It was immediately covered by her six-inch too long sweater sleeve.

"I don't feel like dealing with that tonight. I just

want to and get something to eat and then hang out with you," I said,
trying to sound as sincere as I could. That and the fact that we hadn't had sex
since last weekend when she came back into town. Not that we didn't want to, it
was a matter of female biology.

"Do you promise to take me tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Bright and early?" she asked, holding her index

finger up at me.

"Yes."

"Bright and early as in first in line when they unlock

the door?" she asked, now wagging her finger at me.

"Ah, yes," I replied not as rock solid as before.

She looked at me a second and tilted her head. "Cross

your heart?"

"Yes," I said, crossing my heart.

"Pinky swear?" she asked, holding out her little

finger to me.

"Yeah, pinky swear," I said, hooking my little

finger with hers.

"Good. Now before we go out I need a shower 'cause I

stink," she said, walking past me to the hallway. I watched her as she
walked in the bathroom, turned on the light and the transistor radio. One by
one, pieces of clothing were tossed out into the hallway and then the door
closed. I heard the water start running and turned to go to the kitchen. The
bathroom door opened, her hand popped out, and her finger beckoned me to
follow.

I may not be the smartest but I didn't need an explanation

on that gesture. Even though I'd just gotten a shower an hour before I shucked
my clothes and was in the bathroom faster than you could say 'All the way!'

She was completely under the shower with her eyes wide open

watching me as I hopped in myself. Little Ralphie was stiffly bouncing with
glee at in her direction.

"Don't get too frisky, we don't have a condom in

here," she said, handing me the soap and washcloth. She was right; I had
nearly four dozen brand-spanking new assorted Trojans sitting in their boxes,
individually foil raped, tucked safely in the top drawer of the nightstand next
to the bed.

I told you I wasn't the smartest.

Shit.

Well, there was no use crying about it so I started to give

Donna a good scrub down. I started down at her feet and worked my way up,
taking extra special care on her privates and giving her boobs two coats of
wax. She did her face herself to make sure she'd removed her make-up properly
while I got the shampoo ready for her. Somewhere between squirting her head and
getting up a full head of lather, her hand had managed to attach itself to
little Ralphie.

"Feels like someone didn't like being ignored this

week," she said, blowing soap foam away from her mouth. "Think he'll
forgive me?"

"I'm sure he'd be happy if you tried," I replied.

Just then, Sam Cook's 'Chain Gang' began playing on the radio.

Donna started bending her knees and moving to the music,

giving me hard tugs with every 'Hooh! Aah!' She mouthed the words, 'Well don't
you know...' and then said, "I'm going to make you cum before the end of
this song," while blinded by lather and spitting soap.

"Okay," I squeaked, while trying to clean that

wild mop of blond hair.

She sang some, mouthed the words some, and gyrated as she

worked on me to the music. She started using both hands, making sure that every
time the 'Hoohs' and 'Aahs' came on, the tugs were more forceful. By the time
he was singing about going home to see his woman, I wasn't scrubbing her head
any more, I was holding on for dear life. My left knee started shaking and I
gagged on a mouthful of water as she coaxed me over the edge. As he asked for
some water 'cause he was thirsty, the first blast hit her on the stomach. The
second and third hit her thigh and kneecap and the rest dribbled down into the
water.

Donna held me until I went soft while I leaned on the shower

wall for support. "I told you I'd make you cum before the end of the
song," she said, spitting more soap at me. "Now do you mind if I
rinsed off too?" she said, still blind with lather.

"Sure," I said, climbing out and drying myself

off.

Out To Eat.

At 10:30, we were slamming the doors to my car. We could've

been out of my apartment ten minutes faster but even with a super heavy-duty
hair dryer it takes forever to get Donna's hair to the point of just being damp
let alone dry.

"So, where do you want to go?" I asked, as my '64

Malibu turned over.

Donna thought for moment. "I guess we're a little late

for the 'All the Way House'."

'Thank God,' I thought.

"I'm hungry, but I just don't know what I'm in the mood

for. Just head over to Main Street and we'll look for something open," she
said. A car pulled up behind us, blocking our way out. "Uh oh," said
Donna when she saw who got out of the car.

It was my good buddy Jim. "Hey guy, how ya doing?"

He asked leaning down to my window. "Hey mop head," he said, nodding
in Donna's direction. "I see you're heading out. What a coincidence. How
about letting me use the place for a little while?"

Jim usually dropped by on Friday nights to 'use' my

apartment. Being it was Saturday I thought I was safe. Guess not. "I don't
think so."

"Come on. We'll be gone before you know it," he

said, looking back at his smoking piece of crap. Tonight's girl looked about
ten years older than us; and her make-up was crooked.

The memory of last week's debacle was still fresh in my mind,

and I couldn't help but get nasty. "How much is she costing you?"

"Be nice," he said, wagging his finger at me.

"It's a cousin of my sister's friend. She's got Parkinson's or
something."

"Getting pretty far down the list, aren't you?"

asked Donna, shaking her head.

"What, are you kidding? That shaking bit could take

things to a whole new level," he replied, humping my door to stress his point.

"No, for a lot of reasons; starting with the fact that

you owe me twenty dollars, for the money you took out of my wallet."

He tossed a twenty down on my lap.

"You also owe me fifty for that citation for disturbing

the peace."

Two more twenties and a ten fluttered down the steering wheel

and my legs.

"My apartment still smells like burnt popcorn!"

He went to his car and came back with an unopened air

freshener.

"You smashed my TV!" I shouted.

Jim sighed. "I can't help you there right now."

Donna weighed in; "He said no, Jim. Go down by the

lake. She can give you a shaky handjob like all the other high school kids
parked over there," Donna said. "Now move your car, I want to
eat!"

That was my Donna; ditzy, yet assertive.

I didn't bother letting Jim in on the fact that I had the

citation taken care of. Well, I had fifty bucks toward a new TV. He left, and
we were finally on our way. We passed a few burger places, but neither of us
wanted one. Then Donna pointed. "Oh! Vito's is still open!"

Vito's pizzeria and restaurant opened its doors in 1950, in

a strip shopping center; as a simple pizza and sandwich shop. Business was so
good that a few years ago when a store next to it went vacant, he expanded;
turning it into a table and booth establishment. The food was excellent and
they had a BYOB policy that most customers utilized. Though their menu was
somewhat pricey, it was a successful family business. No, I don't mean Vito's
family. I mean that other Italian family.

You know, wink-wink.

Now, I don't know for sure if Vito is one of them, but there's

always a table that has four to six men in suit coats playing cards, while
people come and go, greeting them with envelopes as they shake hands. It's
always the same four to six. One thing was for sure at Vito's:

Skipping on the check, was not recommended.

I'd heard rumors of those that tried; nothing factual, just

stories. Tonight the check will be paid, cash. I enjoy walking without a
permanent gimp.

We entered the place and the first thing I noticed was all

six suits were in attendance at their usual table, playing cards and the place
was all decked out for Christmas. Donna picked a table far enough away from the
door so she could take her coat off and not get cold, but she left her very
long sleeved cardigan sweater on. I left my coat on and sat down. I looked
around, saw a few people I knew, and only a couple of empty tables.

"I guess there's a lot of hungry people, finishing

holiday shopping tonight," I said.

"Look at that tree," said Donna, marveling at a

giant white fur lit up like a, well, like a Christmas tree with all white
lights standing in the corner. "We need to get a tree."

"The apartment complex kind of frowns on that, Donna.

They're fire hazards. They don't mind artificial trees," I said, trying to
salvage her good mood.

"What? You mean those stick aluminum trees that have a

lighted dial that changes color shining on it? My grandparents had one of them.
It looked stupid," she replied. "I want one like that!" she said
loud, pointing across the room.

That got the attention of the 'suits' and they turned to

look.

"Donna!" said the skinny one with a pair of jacks.

"Donna!" shouted the tall one with three threes.

"Donna!" coughed the fat one holding a busted

flush.

All six of the men got up and came to our table to greet us.

No, make that ‘greet Donna.’ In the course of their conversation, I
picked up that they all knew her dad, and one summer she ran errands for the
guys.

When they were done talking, they headed back to their table,

except for 'fat busted flush'. "Anything you want tonight's on us. You
want something to drink, order it."

"But this is a 'bring your own' place," said

Donna.

He shook his head. "Anything you want, you got

it," he replied.

"But we're not old enough to drink," she said,

laughing.

"Believe me," he said, holding his hand over his

heart. "Anything you want honey, no problem."

"How about a tree like that," she said, pointing

at the giant in the corner.

He patted his coat, pulled out a pad and pen, and jotted

something down. As he handed the note to Donna he said, "Go down the
corner where they have that temporary lot of trees set up. Ask for Paulie
Toucan, not Paulie Asshole, and hand him that note. He'll take care of
you." Then he turned to look at me, and said, "How ya doin',"
and waddled back to his seat.

"Boy, the way they acted, you'd think you were

Italian," I said, catching the eye of the waitress.

Donna looked at me like I was stupid. "I am."

"Your last name is Brunner. How is that Italian?"

I asked.

"Actually my family's last name is Bruno. It was

changed when my grandfather came over on the boat. Does it make a
difference?" she asked, propping up her chin on her hand. "Bruno. Why
does that sound familiar?" I asked.

"It should. My grandfather is like a second cousin to

the big guy in Philly," she said.

"Hi Donna," said our waitress. "Do you want a

menu or do you know what you want?"

I thought she looked familiar. Now I knew who she was.

Ronnie Vaspero. She was the cutest girl in school from first grade all the way
up through high school. At first, she was a nice girl. Then she realized her
looks were special. Suddenly, most people she knew no longer existed to her.
She oozed conceit and kept her nose in the air around anyone that wasn't
Italian, or a member of the upper class. The only reason she was working here,
was that she was engaged to Vito's son, who stood to inherit the joint when
Vito hung up his apron for good. At that moment, her nose was so high that if a
bird was in the rafters and took a dump it would've gone right up her nostrils.
I glanced up at the ceiling. Nope, there weren't any birds when we needed 'em.

"I'm just gonna have the veal parmie," said Donna,

"And a Coke."

Ronnie didn't even turn her head in my direction. She just

stood with her pen hovering over the check pad. "I'll have the same,"
I offered.

"Original thinker," she mumbled as she turned to

go.

Donna slapped the table. "Wait! I want a side dish of

hot peppers and make sure I get a shaker of the red pepper stuff!"

Ronnie stopped in mid-stride, facing away from us, and wrote

that done. When she continued to stand there; I realized she was waiting to see
if I was adding anything. "Nothing for me."

"Wuss," I heard her mumble as she went into the

kitchen.

I shook my head and patted Donna on the hand. "What

does the note say?"

She opened it and snorted. "Whatever she wants -

delivered tonight, Alphonse."

"That's not bad, but is it really a good idea to take a

favor like that from them?" I asked, not sure of the rules.

"If we didn't take them up on the offer it would be a

great insult to them. Trust me, we don't want to do that," she said waving
at the thin one that glanced in her direction.

Our food came quickly and Donna emptied half a jar of

crushed red pepper on hers. Next to her plate was another just as large with
two-dozen green hot chili peppers on it. My nose started running just from the
smell of them. For every red pepper laden mouthful of veal or spaghetti, one
pepper was eaten until they were gone. When we finished, Ronnie gave us a check
that said 'COMP'. I left her a tip and we gave our thanks to the suits and
walked out.

Donna looked up and down the street. "Which way is the;"

I glanced back in the window of Vito's, and all six guys

were pointing which way to go. "This way," I said, trying to make
myself sound intelligent.

"Cool," said Donna, as she put on her Groucho

glasses and blew on a party favor.

"You know, I don't have anything to put on the tree let

alone a stand for it," I let my girl know.

"Don't worry about it," she replied.

As we got near the place, we saw two men standing by a

barrel with a good fire going in it and both were warming their hands. Behind
them were dozens of trees of different types and sizes. A few people were
milling around looking them over. In the center of the lot was a immense tree
lit and decorated to the hilt. As we approached the men, they noticed Donna and
started to laugh.

"So," said the tall one, still laughing.

"What kind of tree you want?"

Donna took off her glasses and stuffed them in her pocket.

"We're looking for Paulie Toucan."

"I'm Paulie," said the short older man. It was

obvious why he had the nickname Toucan. His nose made Jimmy Durante's look
petite.

"I'm supposed to give this to you," Donna said,

handing him the note. He read it and showed it to the other guy.

The other guy read it and said, "What the fuck? That's

the second one tonight, Paulie. He's killing all our profit." He quickly
shook his head. Turning to Donna, he said; "Forget it. You can turn right
around and tell that fat fuck if he wants you to have a tree he can come pay
for it."

"Hey, watch your mouth, Paulie," said the Toucan,

pointing out the fact that Donna was a girl.

'Asshole. A perfect nickname,' I thought.

Toucan pulled Donna aside and lead her through the lot while

I followed a few paces behind. "Don't worry about him, we're thinkin' it's
a sugar problem. Now, what kind of tree were you looking for?"

"I was hoping for one like Vito's got in his

place," said Donna hopefully.

"I think it was a White Pine." He turned back and

shouted, "Hey Paulie, wasn't that a White Pine we sent over to
Vito's?"

"Fuck off!" Asshole barked, as a woman and her kid

passed by him. "Hi sweetie," he said to her, as the woman pulled her
kid away from him.

"Could be Tourette's," Toucan said, shrugging his

shoulders. "Now tell me why Al wants to give you a tree."

"He knew my father and remembered me from when I was

little," she replied. My dad's Silvio Brunner.

"Your dad's Silly Toots? Yeah I know him. He's an old

friend of ours," said Paulie Toucan, smiling from ear to ear. "So
you're his kid, huh?"

Donna looked at him. "Toots?" she asked.

"Yeah, ah, you know. He always farted when he walked,

like a toy train tooting."

Donna fell the ground laughing her ass off. "Now I know

for sure you know my dad," she said between whoops. When she calmed down,
I grabbed her hand and pulled her up. As she finished giggling she snorted and
said, "I want that tree," pointing at the lit and decorated
centerpiece.

"That one?" asked Paulie, making sure she wasn't

kidding.

"Yep, that one," she replied.

"That's our display model," Toucan stated.

"But I want it."

"Donna, don't make him mad. Pick another tree," I

said, trying to help.

"I want that one," she said emphatically.

"It's too big to fit in the apartment," I said

just as sternly.

Toucan turned to me and said, "Hey, Douche Bag, did I

ask for your help?" He turned and pleaded with her. "If we give you
that tree, it's gonna take forever to take all the stuff off and put it on
another one."

Donna looked him right in the eye and said, "I don't

think you understand. I want it exactly the way it is." Then blew a party
favor in his face.

"But, but." he stammered.

"Read the note again," she suggested.

He didn't have to. He knew what it said. Drooping his

shoulders in defeat, he said, "Okay, if you want this tonight; it's gonna
take a while cause I gotta get some more guys over here to help me. Besides, I
can't leave Paulie in charge," Toucan said pointing in Asshole's
direction.

"What the fuck you looking at," Asshole snapped

back.

"Not with his epilepsy," added Toucan.

"Donna, that tree is way too tall for the

ceiling," I said.

"We'll cut it down as needed," said Paulie.

"He really is a douche bag, isn't he?" Toucan asked Donna.

"Yeah, but he's kind of a sweet douche bag," Donna

said, pinching my cheek.

He looked around until he saw some of his helpers.

"Hey, use three, when you're done there, I need you get this tree ready
for delivery," he shouted, pointing to the demo.

"That fuckin' thing?" asked the kid, tying a tree

to the hood of a car.

"That fuckin' thing?" growled the kid, picking a

woman's purse.

"That fuckin' thing?" asked the kid holding a

young boy upside down by the ankles.

"What?" screamed Asshole, kicking over the fire

barrel.

"Ah, yous two ought to get out of here before Paulie

pops an aneurysm. Give me your address and phone number, and I'll see you
later." Toucan glanced at us both. "You are gonna be up later,
right?"

I looked at my watch. It was 12:30 in the early AM. I

wondered just how serious Donna was about getting up early to be first in line
at the shopping center. I also was concerned about making too much noise for
the neighbors. "Around what time are we talking?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I have to get at least four more people

here. Tonight is our busiest night of the year," Toucan said. "Might
be a couple of hours."

"But it's already after midnight," I said, not

following his reasoning.

"It's the last Saturday before Christmas. A lot of

people wait until tonight after the kiddies go to bed to get a tree. Then mom
and pop sit up all night, decorating; as a surprise. Of course, some wait until
Christmas Eve, telling the kids that Santa brought it. We don't wait around for
that. At midnight, we call it quits and head home. Any trees left are up for
grabs. By then, the only people that haven't gotten a tree are those that don't
celebrate it; or the really hard off. For them I say, God bless you, take a
tree. Now go; before Paulie gets his second wind."

I looked over at Asshole, and he'd already picked up the

barrel and was headed in our direction. "Thanks Paulie, we'll see you
later," I said, grabbing Donna by the arm and pulled her in the direction
of my car.

Our First Christmas Tree.

It didn't take long for Donna to clear enough room for the

tree considering I didn't have a TV anymore. Now all we had to do was wait. I stood
looking at the cleared out corner, then looked at the clock. It was 1:10. I got
a wonderful idea and turned back toward the sofa, to tell Donna; only she
wasn't in the room. I headed down the hallway to the bedroom and found her face
down, buck-naked, and spread eagle on the bed.

"I see you had the same Idea I had," I said,

ripping off my clothes as fast as I could.

"It wasn't so much an idea, as a need. Little Ralphie

better have some life left, after earlier," she said, almost like a
warning.

I dug through the drawer, came out with a condom, and handed

it to Donna.

She rolled over and sat up, facing me, and put on her

Groucho glasses, like they could actually help her read. "What is
this?" she asked. "Ribbed for her pleasure," she read. "And
it's pink."

"I wanted to try something different," I replied.

She kissed me. Donna wasn't big on physical contact around

others, even when we were alone she didn't cling to me. That made any contact
with her, all the more meaningful and electrifying. Right now, her kiss sent
shock waves through me, and also burned the crap out of my tongue.

All those frickin' hot peppers.

Mental note: no oral sex tonight.

I caressed the smooth skin of her back and her thighs. With

each touch, my mind kept asking if this was real. Just a few short weeks ago, I
was as alone as anyone could be. Now, the girl that I've always loved, was here,
and she loved me. As my hand moved back to her side, she drew her knee up
exposing herself. I could smell her urgency.

I'd never 'diddled with the cliddle' but I'd read some

stories about it. So, I lowered my hand and touched her. She sighed and kissed
me harder. So far so good. I felt around for her clit and she let me know when
I found it by biting my tongue.

"Sorry," she whispered, pulling away from the kiss

and lying onto her back. A moan escaped her lips. "A little faster,
please," she whispered.

I diddled a little faster and she grabbed the first thing

her hand touched, a handful of hair from the back of my head. Her hips heaved
up and slammed back down on the bed. She shrieked and shook and pulled my hair.
When she calmed down, she let go of my hair, pulled out a party favor, and blew
on it. From beginning to end, less than a minute went by.

"Whew, I needed that," she said, pushing her hair

out of her face. "Where's that thing?" she asked, looking for the
condom. "For my pleasure, huh? I may never want to do it any other
way." She winked at me.

I was plenty ready by the time she had the wrapper off and

put it on me. After a few misfires she helped guide me in. It felt so good! I
stayed there unmoving.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"It feels so good," I mumbled.

"I know Ralphie, but let's give those ribs a rip."

'Never leave your girl wanting more, always finish the

job,' I thought, as I found a rhythm she seemed to like.

"These are great," she said, pumping me harder and

faster. I tried to keep up with her, but she was going nuts below me.
"Wait, wait," she said, as she rolled us over and climbed on top.
"Relax and enjoy the ride," she said breathlessly.

Donna rode me like I was a bucking bronco. Her hair was

flopping and her luscious tits were bouncing, while I could do little but get
thumped in the crotch, and watch this magnificent girl work herself into a mind
blowing orgasm.

When she came, she jammed down hard, grabbed me by the

shoulders, and shouted 'Yes!" through gritted teeth. Her hard protruding
nipples were rubbing my chest. She breathed hard for a minute, and then flopped
her head down on my neck. Her breath was still brutal, but I didn't mind.
"You didn't cum," she whispered, moving her crotch a little with me
still in there.

"How could you tell?" I asked.

"You get a funny look on your face," she said.

"I think I got bruised," I said.

Donna rolled off and inspected me. "Oh shit, I'm sorry

Ralph. Oh my God, you're all red down here. I guess I don't know my own
strength. I'm really sorry," she said, as her eyes started to fill with
tears.

"That's all right, don't worry about it. You didn't

break anything permanently," I said, pulling off the condom.

"I'll make it up to you," she said, between kisses

on my cheek and rubs on my crotch.

To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Kirk

48 2002, in 2 parts, for Literotica.

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