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Santa's presents

CougarGirl

Star
Joined
Nov 5, 2013
Location
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Sandra flashed a smile at her husband as she reached behind her and unzipped the dress she had been wearing at their Christmas Eve party, twisting as she let it slide over her shoulders and down her back, then easing it over her ass to reveal the dark blue strip of her thong cutting between her white buttocks. With a wriggle, it was over her ankles. With a flourish, she lifted her feet clear and kicked her shoes across the room before turning and bending low to reveal her breasts toppling out of her low cut bra.

‘I’ll just put out Santa’s presents and then I’ll be back,’ she whispered as she kissed him on the lips.’

‘You’d better put a robe on,’ he grinned, ‘in case you bump into Santa. I’ll get undressed and be ready for you when you get back.’

Sandra wrapped her robe around her and grabbed three small gifts from a drawer.

‘You’d better be ready for me, because I am certainly ready for you,’ she teased as she rushed out of their bedroom.

Santa’s presents were a tradition. It has started when their three daughters still believed in Santa, but Sandra had continued it even now that all three were in their 20s and sleeping in the other bedrooms with their partners. They were only small presents, but they were always carefully chosen for each of the girls.

There was no need to put the lights on. She knew where the tree was and all she needed was to drop Santa’s presents among the others. She was just backing away when firm hands took hold of her hips, spun her round and pushed her over the back of the settee. One of those hands pushed her robe over her hips and the other pulled her thong aside. A firm cock pressed against her buttocks. Obviously her husband had been readier for her than she anticipated. Instinctively, she raised her ass and opened her thighs to help him slip inside.

It was over in less than a minute. A few swift thrusts, hot breath on her neck, a slap on her buttock and it was done. By the time she had righted herself and turned round, he was gone.

She mounted the stairs with a spring in her step and burst into the bedroom to find her husband lying in the bed with an apologetic look on his face.

‘I’m sorry, luv. I forgot to renew the Viagra prescription. I thought I had some left, but I don’t. Sorry.’

Sandra put out the light to cover her puzzlement. Without Viagra, he was useless. Whoever had just had his way with her over the settee, it hadn’t been Pete. As he snored softly beside her, she lay awake, aware of the sperm drying on her thigh, and wondering who it had been.

There were only three possibility: one of her daughters’ partners. But how would she work out which one? She could hardly ask each one if he had fucked her the night before. And why? That was the more difficult question. Why would any of them, with a nubile twentysomething at his disposal, want to screw a woman in her late 40s? It just didn’t make sense.

It was about 3 in the morning when she hit on a plan. She would ask her daughters. But not straight out, obviously. She needed a ruse. By 4 in the morning she had settled on a plan.

She waited until the middle of Christmas morning before she managed to catch Belinda on her own.

‘Bel,’ she asked as casually as she could, ‘did Dan come downstairs after we’d gone to bed? I don’t want to make a fuss, but someone left the door unlocked last night and I’m trying to work out who might have come down later.’

Belinda grinned.

I can assure you that it wasn’t Dan, mum.’ Her face assumed a conspiratorial look. ‘Dan was so hot for it, he could barely contain himself till we got to our room and then he jumped me. We were at it for a good hour and then he fell asleep. I went on Facebook for a while; I can never sleep after a good fuck, and I was still asleep when I put out the light around 2 o’clock.’

OK, so Dan was in the clear, provided Belinda was telling the truth. But why wouldn’t she? Why indeed?

The same question got a very different answer just after lunch from Geraldine.

‘No, mum, it wasn’t Wayne. We were arguing. I’ve told him before about flirting with Joanna, but he will keep doing it, even though he knows it makes me angry. He must know she’s only playing with him, but he can’t resist dreaming. I was so angry, I didn’t get to sleep until gone 4 this morning.’

OK, so it wasn’t him either, provided Geraldine was telling the truth. But why would she want to protect Wayne? Why indeed?

That left the flirtatious Joanna, who just happened to offer help her mother stack the dishwasher.

‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘Simon did come downstairs shortly after we had gone to bed. I suspected he might be meeting up with Geraldine; she fancied him from the moment they met and she’s always been jealous of me, so I followed him. But all he did was get a drink of water and go back to bed. He didn’t touch the door.’ She was sure he hadn’t.’

OK, so it wasn’t any of them, unless one of her daughters was trying to cover for her partner.

Sandra tried a different approach. Assume that one of the men slipped downstairs while their partner was in the bathroom, say. Which was most likely to have done it?

Dan had always fancied her. She could feel his eyes on her when he was around and there had been no doubting that he had had a hard on when he kissed her under the mistletoe last Christmas.

Wayne was most likely to have made a mistake, because Sandra and Geraldine had the same build. He might have mistaken one for the other, in the dark.

And as for Simon, he was new – Joanna’s boyfriends always were - he might already be tiring of her jealousy.

She was still puzzling over the mystery in the early evening, when Simon sidled up to her and whispered that he wanted to apologise.

‘Joanna says you’ve been asking about the door being unlocked. It was me’, he admitted. ‘I woke in the night and wanted a smoke, but Joanna said I wasn’t allowed to do it inside, so I slipped out. The door was already open, so I didn’t lock it in case someone was outside and couldn’t get back in.’

‘What time was that?’ Sandra enquired casually.

‘About 5,’ he replied.

Sandra had almost convinced herself that it had been a dream by February when she began to suspect, but she knew for sure it hadn’t been in March when her doctor confirmed that she was pregnant.

Her husband accepted paternity as public proof of his potency despite the problems he had been having, and without any thought to the timing or to the fact that without either of them using birth control Sandra had not fallen pregnant in over a decade.

The unlocked door had just been a ruse. It had never occurred to Sandra until Simon spoke to her that it had actually been open, and must have been open all night. Anyone could have slipped in. Maybe a sneak thief after the presents who was surprised to come across an almost naked middle-aged woman in the moonlight.

After all, who else could it have been?
 
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