The Russian's Christmas Present

Tomorrow is Russian Christmas, and later today my father, Martel’s parents, Roan and Alice are all flying in to spend the holiday here. We lost his grandfather eight months ago, but in his last moments, he found joy in knowing soon he would be with his own angel once again.

So, we figured this year it was time for a new tradition. As much as we love our home back in Townley, one Christmas a year in the cold and snow is enough. December 25th is for the snow and January 7th is for the sand.

My father had a heart attack five years ago and that seemed to be the wake-up call he needed. Martel paid for his treatment for alcohol, drugs and gambling addictions. It’s not been an easy road, but it’s been worth the struggle.

He’s become a father again, and better yet, a grandfather, and I don’t ever remember him so happy.

With Martel’s help, I reached out to my mother just before Sonya was born, but not every part of life has a happy ending. She was distant. Made some excuse as to why she couldn’t talk longer, said her husband wasn’t well and she would be in touch soon.

As expected, that didn’t happen, but as full of joy as the rest of my life is, I’m not angry. I’m sorry she’s missing out on so much with us, but my focus is on my family, my career, and the people that make an effort to be in my life.

Martel slips his cock from my lips and pulls me to my feet, my head still spinny from my climax.

“Don’t swallow it all.” He leans in. “I love tasting myself on your mouth.”

His lips take mine in a long, slow kiss.

My husband is my rock. My best friend. My everything.

Without him, my life would be incomplete.

With him, every day is Christmas, and just as he promised, he is making all my dreams come true.