40. Christmas Eve pt.2 - Of cold cream and another new tradition

It was late when I finally went to my room. I found Helena there already, sat at the window watching the snow fall in the park. The ground outside was already completely white. My mother sat there, in her pearl-grey dressing gown, her hair loose upon her shoulders, and she seemed lost in her thoughts.

I waited for a moment before I disturbed her, so taken was I by how beautiful she was.

"It will be a good depth tomorrow," I said eventually.

"I miss the beauty of snow when we are in London." Helena said wistfully, "It falls, and within a few minutes it is grey or slushed by the carriages, this is something to be enjoyed."

"I would much rather watch it from indoors than toil my way through it from guard post to guard post." I handed Helena a glass of wine, while I sipped my rum.

"Involving the staff tonight was a good idea," she said, quietly.

"It's traditional, I read it in one of Dr Locksley's antiquarian articles." I told her.

"Traditions are good." Helena said, as the snow still fell outside.

"Change can be good too." I suggested.

"Yes," my mother agreed, "And there have been many this year ..."

"And some of those have been very good." I finished for her.

"I have a present for you," my mother said, and handed me a small ceramic jar.

I turned and looked at it in the dim light from the oil lamp, the light from the window was too dim. The label announced that it was Cold Cream. I looked at Helena.

She took it back from me and rose from the chair. Making her way to my bed, she shed her clothes and climbed in, still holding the jar.

"Well? Do you want my arse?"

AH! Cold Cream! Oil! GREASE! AH!

I finished sliding my breeches off.

Helena looked nervous; resolute, but nervous as I slid into the bed next to her. The last thing I wanted to do was to make this an unpleasant experience for her, so we began by kissing. Actually, that was pleasant enough, my mother was particularly loving, and our kisses were playful at times, until I positioned her on her hands and knees.

I took a few moments to kiss the small of her back, and down across the cheeks of her bottom - small and neatly formed. Finally, I took my thumbs and parted them, exposing the sweet little pucker.

I had had one or even two fingers inside her before but this time I intended to go beyond that. Scooping some of the lavender scented cold cream onto my forefinger, I gently massaged it into the flesh of her bottom, pressing my finger into her anus several times, and I was rewarded with Helena pushing back at me. At the same time my other hand was diddling her cunny, playing with her clitoris and stimulating her passion. Certainly, Helena was panting and writhing her hips as I coaxed an orgasm from her, causing her to send a stream of spend across my bed sheets.

"OH! Oh dear!" She said, "I didn't mean to do that!" I kissed her, to say 'not to worry' and to disguise the fact that while she came so energetically, I had slipped two fingers inside her bottom.

Which she discovered when I started to move them, caressing her with them, and rotating them inside her anus.

"Oh fuck, William! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She gasped; her profanities quiet but deeply felt. "Fuck! That feels ... Oh! Ooooooohhhhhhhh!" My mother reared back on her knees, holding on to me, and resting her head on my shoulder as she gasped. I felt her relax as she came twice more, small explosive spends that actually made her bite my shoulder.

Another scar, I thought, well, one more for the collection.

I withdrew my fingers and used them to scoop more cold cream onto Helena's bottom and placed a little on my cock, which by now ached to be about its work.

With my hand on Helena's hip, I guided my prick towards her culo, as the Spanish term it. Despite my fingers being there previously, it was a tight fit. As I pushed past her ring, I felt my mother stiffen. The oil in the sweet-smelling cream did its job, and I slid slowly, slowly inside her.

I stroked Helena's back, urging her to push back against it, and help it inside. She did so, pressing her arse back into my groin, and suddenly I was buried in her, to the hilt.

"Aaaaah! Oh, sweet Jesus!" She groaned, "I am so full! I thought it would hurt more. Ahh! Yessss!"

This last was hissed as I started to move my hips, back and to, sliding my prick in and out slowly.

"Oh! Oh! Fuck! William! Oh! OH!" Helena wriggled and twisted against me as I fucked away at her arse, frigging her cunny as I did so, and tugging gently on her nipple with my other hand. She was deliciously tight, her bottom hole snug around my cock.

"I - ah! Thought this - ah! Might be worthwhile. I didn't _ Ah! Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I didn't imagine it would be this good. Oh, William! I feel so full! My handsome love, fill my arse with your seed."

I have never heard Helena say the word fuck so much or be so vocal in general. She sat back and upright, impaling herself deeply as she sat in my lap. It allowed her to turn her head and kiss my mouth, allowing me to play with her bubbies. It is a mark of the level of our passion, so inflamed were we that we kissed and chewed and bit at each other's lips, while I was quite brutal in the way I squeezed and mauled at her breasts.

I pushed Helena forwards and down, so that she rested her head and arms on the bed and I took hold of her hips and shoved away at them.

When I did spend, I jerked forwards and bent over her, my hips jutting forward, and cum shooting inside her anus. Through my cum I heard my mother gasping as she fell forwards.

I withdrew, my limp cock slick with grease and jism. I got up and wiped it with a cloth.

When I turned back to the bed, Helena was watching me with an expression that reminded me of a very happy, satisfied cat. A cat that had not just eaten a canary but polished off the cream for dessert as well.

"I am leaking too!" She grinned girlishly.

She wriggled her bottom as I wiped her anus. "Oh!" She gasped, as I cleaned around the gaping eye of her sphincter.

I placed the cloth on the side table and poured us wine, handing it to her in bed.

"Happy Christmas," I wished her.

"Perhaps we should make a good arse fuck another Christmas tradition," my mother laughed, before toasting my Christmas wish with her glass.

I sat beside her, cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in the bed sheet, while she covered her nakedness in a blanket.

"Perhaps, indeed!" I suggested as I leaned forwards and kissed her. "But tell me, would you only do that once a year?"

Helena wriggled her bottom again, obviously she wasn't completely comfortable. She pulled a wry face, as she reached over and placed our glasses on the bed-side table. "It was intense, I will admit that," she said. "I am not sure though I would do it every time we made love."

"Once a week?" I wondered, laughing, "Once a fortnight or just once a month?"

Helena pushed at me, laughing at my efforts to calendar our anal sex. I don't know why but we both found that hilarious and ended rolling on the bed - still wrapped in the bedding - like two chortling, giggling children.

After a few minutes, we calmed and lay there looking at each other.

"Nine." Helena said.

I looked at her wondering what she meant.

"Nine years of Christmases without you here." She explained. "I have missed you so much, and at no time more than this."

I extracted my arms from the wrapping of the sheet and pulled her to me. "Imagine how it felt for me," I said plaintively. "Living the austere military life - barracks and drill, sentries and saluting. Separated by the wide seas from my loving family - my sisters and my loving mother ..."

From the look that my mother gave me, it was clear that she was less than sympathetic. "With your wines and your roasts in your officer's mess, and the ladies all fighting for the attention of the handsome young soldiers." Helena laughed. "From the little you have told us; it is obvious that you led no monkish existence ..."

"Shame on you, lady," I scolded her, "To mock me so ..."

"Which was confirmed in the letters that you sent home." She finished, ignoring my scolding.

"True," I conceded, "But ... but life was hard away from home ..." I complained, half-heartedly. "I missed you all so much, and you especially," I finished, my voice lowered, though we were the only two there, our heads bent towards each other.

"Kiss me, William." Helena said quietly, "Kiss me and convince me that you did indeed miss us."

All those years of absence went into that one kiss. It was true, that soldiers away from home will put in the utmost effort to celebrate, and there was in truth no real reason to be on your own, but I did miss my family, Helena in particular, and it was that that fuelled my kiss.

Our kissing led to us rolling across the bed again, this time with Helena enfolded in her blanket in my arms. Soon, however, she fought her way out of her wrappings, so that she could utilise her own hands to touch me, feel me, pull me to her, to stroke me and caress me during our love-making.

Once she had extracted herself fully from the blankets, Helena climbed up on top of me and rode my cock to an energetic spend - rocking back and to, as she milked my cum with her action, clenching her internal muscles to draw the jism from me.

That done, and it being very late on Christmas Eve, or to be more precise, it being early on Christmas Day, my mother drew the sheet and the blanket on top of us and we nestled down to sleep together.