I have a bit of a love hate relationship with Christmas. Actually hate is too strong a word for it, frustration and/or anxiety are probably better words.
It is the gift buying part that I find really difficult. In my head there is the perfect gift for people. Something that will make them happy but I find knowing what that gift is a real struggle. My imagination nearly always fails me and the pressure of not knowing the answer to that question slowly builds as Christmas approaches until eventually I am in full on panic mode. At this point I just want to cancel Christmas. I want to close my eyes and wake up after it is all done and no one is disappointed with me and the gift, or lack of, that I gave them.
It does not always happen that way mind you. Last year I had a flash of inspiration and managed to order a wonderful gift for Michael that he was utterly delighted with. The children also got things that seemed to tick their respective boxes as did my Mum. This year though I seem to have reverted back to my confused and struggling self. People have gifts but apart from my Mum’s, that is a bit of gamble but I think she will like it, they all feel uninspiring, especially Michael’s. It makes me sad; actually it oddly fills with me a sense of shame too. I have not tried hard enough, started early enough, and spent enough money. I have failed.
He always reassures me that it doesn’t matter, that all he wants for Christmas is to wake up with me and spend the day with me and I know he means it and yet I can’t get rid of that nagging feeling that I have somehow dropped the ball. The thing is I think at least some, or maybe most of that pressure to find the perfect gift is all of my own making and yet I also know that it stems from previous relationships where I felt huge disappointment that someone had not really tried. Giving me money to go and spend in the sales is actually OK with me but not if you can’t even be bothered to buy me a chocolate orange and a book as well. It is not about the money it is about knowing me. Michael is good at knowing me and so when I fail to think of a fabulous gift for him I feel like I am saying, I don’t know you enough to know what you like. What a fucked up load of nonsense this all is. Just writing it down here is making me realise that what I am thinking and feeling does not really make any sense and yet still it bothers me. If only I could buy him a food mixer every year!
Not all of Christmas is like this though. There are parts of it that I adore.
The food for one, I do love Christmas dinner, including the sprouts, mince pies, and my homemade Christmas pudding the best you ever tasted, trust me on that. Baileys cream, brandy butter, cheese and biscuits, good red wine, smoked salmon and all the yummy left-overs. I can feel my waist line expanding just thinking about it, but fuck it; life is too short to deny myself a bit of extra eating over Christmas and I shall just have to work that bit harder at the gym as a result.
The other bit that I love with a joyful grin on my face is my Christmas decorations. There is something about the whole process from buying the tree to decorating, to putting up the lights around the fireplace and the ones outside that just make me smile. I always buy a real tree; it has to be a real tree to get that glorious smell. All the decorations are silver or glass and the whole thing sparkles. My favourite thing of all is turning off all the lights and just having the ones on the tree and the fireplace. It is such a soft twinkling light. It makes me feel calm and happy and cosy and warm and just peaceful and there is something about all of that which makes me incredibly horny.
Every year one of my requests is can we turn off all the lights and fuck by the lights of the tree. I want to feel his body up against mine, his cock inside me, with that soft light pooling around us. There is something about it that feels decadent maybe even romantic. It makes me want to be kissed and to be touched and to touch. It is a simple pleasure that leads to basic urges. It is also the reason I love taking sexy Christmas pictures too. There is something about that imagery of Christmas that inspires the photographer in me to slip off my clothes and take pictures. I think like the sex I get off on corrupting something that is meant to be pure and sweet.
Whenever I walk into the room and think aww look my tree is sooo pretty, the next thought that jumps into my head is nearly always… let’s have sex. So far this year it has not happened but the kids go away to their Dad’s on Christmas Day and won’t be back until the 30th. That should be plenty of time to indulge my Christmas kink, maybe even more than once…
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