BTC 2.0: Chapter 57

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-- CHAPTER 57: Present --

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I think I love you.

The room was silent, but Skylar’s last words still echoed in my ears. My arms were still around her and I felt tension throughout her body, tension that only grew worse the longer I remained silent. So I was quick to shove my brain back into gear, take a deep breath, and start rubbing her leg while I said softly, “Thank you.”

She glanced back at me over her shoulder, her right hand still holding my ass to keep me close, and she gave me an appraising look. “‘Thank you’?” she quoted back to me.

“Would you rather I said, ‘I love you too’?”

“Well when you put it that way…” she muttered, letting go of my ass and rolling forward, starting to disengage herself from me. Although I still had my right arm across her midsection, clutching her close, I relaxed my grip enough to allow her to separate our two bodies at will, but maintained the barest hint of benign pressure as a silent plea to stay. In the end, she hesitated just short of pulling herself free, and instead allowed me to gently reverse her course and be welcomed back into my embrace.

“Sky…” I soothed. “Sky… You know I care a lot about you. A lot. I don’t want you to feel scared. I would never hurt you, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re my friend, and now you’re my lover, and you know I’m committed to being whatever you need me to be.”

“And what if I need you to be my boyfriend?”

I took a deep breath, once again cuddling her close. And after exhaling slowly, I asked, “Is that really what you want from me?”

“Well clearly it’s not what you want from me,” she muttered defensively, trying to roll herself away from me once again.

“Sky… Sky…” I sighed, once again relaxing my grip to let her go. I would never hold a girl with me against her will.

And yet… every instinct told me not to let her out of my arms. Call me a slow learner, but I knew that this was a moment for disobedience. Let her pull her pussy off my dick? Of course. But somehow I felt that letting her pull away from me completely would be catastrophic for our relationship. I had to fight for her, and to make clear she understood that I would fight for her.

So in a fierce voice, I urged, “Please… Stay with me.”

Once again, she stopped just short of pulling herself free and gave me a cold look over her shoulder. “You just wanna keep your dick wet.”

I frowned. “You know me better than that.” And only then did I completely let go of her, spreading my arms apart.

She could’ve rolled away from me. She could’ve disengaged our loins. But instead she once again pushed herself back to fully engage our loins. Further, she grabbed my arm back and pulled it back into its previous position across her midsection. A moment later, she thought better of it and grabbed the back of my hand, guiding it upwards until I was once again cupping her bare breast.

I took that as a good sign and went ahead to fondle said breast while Skylar’s palm remained against the back of my hand, and I also leaned forward to nibble on her shoulder while molding my legs against the backs of hers.

She sighed and stretched a bit. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re not the kind of bloke who would say the L-word just to get my knickers off.”

“I think your knickers came off a long time ago.”

“I think they came off two days ago. And it almost feels like you’ve been buried inside me more often than not since then.” Skylar chuckled and clenched her inner muscles around my cock still embedded deep inside her.

“It feels amazing to be buried inside you like this. I don’t ever wanna leave,” I murmured with a little extra heat in my voice while mauling her breast and gyrating my hips a bit to carve my cock within her cuntal walls. I craned my head over her shoulder, she turned her face to meet me, and for a minute we kissed with lustful passion while our loins undulated in harmony for both her pleasure and mine.

But after a minute, she separated our lips, sighed, and set her head back down on the pillow, facing away from me. I continued to fondle her breast but otherwise stopped my thrusting and waited her out.

“I’m supposed to be the mature, older one,” she muttered ruefully into the middle distance. “I’m the one who should know better than to lose my head after a bonkers day of sex, sex, and more sex, and then confuse the emotions that I’m feeling right now with… ‘love’.”

“It has been a pretty bonkers day,” I agreed. “And I take it as a compliment that you feel the way you do.”

“Yes, by all means, feel complimented.” She glanced at me over her shoulder again. “Bloody hell, Matty, you’re as good as advertised. I thought all the shite Neevie said about your prowess was overly enthusiastic exaggeration, but feeling is believing. I never realized sex could be so good, which is probably why I keep wanting it again and again and again.”

“And again,” I added, grinding myself within her once again.

“I feel like a teenager, overflowing with hormones,” she sighed. “I can’t get enough of you. I just want more and more and more.”

Now Skylar did disengage us, pushing back on my hip to get me to roll over and withdraw my wet dick from her saturated snatch. But she quickly rolled after me, swinging a knee over my waist, aiming my erection with her hand, and swiftly sitting herself back down on my big dick with a wet squelching sound. I closed my eyes and groaned at the exquisite sensations shooting through my brain as inch after inch of my throbbing tool slid into her slice of heaven like a hot knife through warm butter. And when I opened my eyes again, it was just in time to see her massive melons pillow themselves on my chest just before her mouth mashed into mine.

Neither of us spoke for the next several minutes. The midnight air was chilly, and Skylar paused for a moment to yank my duvet over her head to cocoon us within its shield to trap in our combined body heat. But as she started to athletically ride me, her pendulous boobs smacking me in the face every now and again, the blanket slipped down to her shoulders. The room was quite dark, but there was enough illumination for me to see her toss her golden mane free, eyes wild with little flashes of reflected moonlight.

I didn’t try to overly delay my ejaculation. I knew she’d already be feeling sore in the morning and didn’t want to add to her future misery. But I still focused on getting her off first, suckling on her nipples and holding her hips to help grind her clit down against my pelvic bone. And it didn’t take long for her to tighten up and squeal her satisfaction.

Then it was my turn. I rolled us back over, unfolding the taco shell duvet. We’d started to get hot and sweaty, and the cool air was quite refreshing on my back as I separated her thighs, guided my dick back into place, and slammed myself home. I humped her hard and heavy, laser-focused on my goal.

She whined and crooned into my ear before biting down on the lobe, her hands roaming up and down my spine. And when I thundered down the final stretch, she spoke for the first time in a long time, hissing, “Fill meeeee. Fill meeeee!”

I filled her.

And then once again we were slumped together, two interconnected individuals joined as one. Our sweaty bodies cooled in the aftermath, and she held me on top of her while we softly kissed, enjoying our post-orgasmic afterglow for the… Fuck, I’d completely lost track of how many times we’d had sex today.

But it wasn’t until I rolled off of her and flopped onto my back that I realized I’d never asked Skylar a very important question.

Mother would be very disappointed in me.

“Um, I realize I’m a little late for this, but are you protected?”

Skylar’s eyes flew open wide and she gasped in horror. “Oh, shit.”

There was that record scratch sound again, and MY eyes flew open wide as my jaw dropped. “Wait, you’re not!?!”

Skylar could NOT stop laughing, at least until she started crying, “The look on your face! The look on your face!”

My jaw flapped open and closed a couple of times in utter shock, my brain going into vapor lock from the mental whiplash of being made to believe Skylar wasn’t protected followed by the realization that she was just messing with me. But eventually I managed to get my brain into gear.

“It’s not funny, Sky,” I muttered with a scowl, and then repeated, “It’s not funny…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she gasped with tears rolling down her cheeks, looking anything but apologetic. “Serves you right [giggle] for sperming a girl [giggle] all weekend and never [full-on laughter] and never asking if she was on birth control.”

And then she couldn’t stop laughing again.

I rolled my eyes, sighed, and waited her out.

Eventually, Skylar wiped the tears from her eyes and exhaled slowly.

“You finished?” I griped.

“Sorry,” she apologized again, not sounding particularly sorry. “You’re not angry, are you?”

“Mildly miffed, and I won’t even be miffed anymore so long as you assure me you’re on birth control.”

“Yes, yes. I’m on birth control,” she wheezed, still wiping her tears.

“Thank goodness. Does that mean you’ve been planning to seduce me for a while now?”

“It’s not something I was planning, but I never stopped taking my pills,” she explained, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly to calm herself. “Force of habit, I suppose. My parents certainly drilled into me that my body was my own responsibility, and that I couldn’t depend on a guy to always be prepared. Thank you for proving their point.”

“I’m sorry. You trusted me, and I could’ve very nearly let you down.”

“There’s no need to apologize. It’s like I said: I’m protected. The only thing that could make my family situation even worse would be if I turned up pregnant out of wedlock, and I have no interest in doing that.”

“One scandal in your life was bad enough,” I muttered apologetically. “And that’s a big reason why you could never allow yourself to let anything happen between you and me while you were still T.A.’ing E10.”

“I’m like… traumatized with fear over getting caught up in another scandal. You can’t know what it was like for me, ostracized by everyone and walking around like I had the scarlet letter sewn onto my clothing.” Skylar sighed. “I couldn’t go through that again.”

“I totally understand.”

“So no matter how attracted to you I felt, I couldn’t shake my feelings of guilt over getting involved with someone I shouldn’t get involved with.” Skylar frowned at me. “You said there aren’t any school regulations forbidding it, but I still know it would’ve been scandalous for you and me to hook up while you were still my student. Cripes, there were plenty of rumors flying around about you and me being involved even though we weren’t doing anything more than talking, but at least I could deny them with a clear conscience. It was such a relief when Isabela started crawling all over you, and I could point out to anyone who asked, ‘Me? No, there’s nothing going on between me and Matt. He’s shacking up with Isabela. Just look at them!’ I actually did that, twice.”

I blinked and waggled my head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Thank goodness for Isabela.”

“Not a sentence I thought I’d hear from you tonight, but alright,” I said with a chuckle.

Skylar chuckled as well.

“I have to ask though,” I continued, “Come next semester, you won’t be my T.A. anymore. But if we’re going to continue like this, do the optics of the situation give you any reason for concern?”

“You mean with me still being a grad student and you a freshman?”

“Yes.”

Skylar snorted. “If I was a male grad student, and you were a freshwoman, nobody would bat an eyelash. Life is so sexist.”

“Probably.”

“But the answer is ‘no’. The optics don’t concern me anymore. So long as you’re no longer my student, if anyone realizes you and I are shagging, they’ll probably just give you a high-five. Instead…” Skylar paused, took a deep breath, and sighed.

I waited her out to let her collect her thoughts, and in the meantime reached over to turn on the table lamp, grabbed several tissues from the box on my nightstand, and handed them over to her.

In the new illumination, Skylar stared pensively at nothing in particular, almost idly blotting up my spending from between her thighs while still lost in thought. She started to shiver as her skin cooled, so I made her get up so I could tuck us both properly under the big duvet, flipping it upside down so that the warm side would be facing our skin, but the sheets beneath were still pretty cold, and she continued shivering. So I rolled myself directly on top of her again, face-to-face and chest-to-chest, although I was careful to support my own weight on my forearms and knees and not smother her.

Skylar hummed happily within my warm, protective embrace, and soon her shivers stopped. I held my face above hers, studying the features of her gorgeous face. She still looked different to me without her glasses: softer, a little younger. In this position, and with the current expression on her face, she looked less like the wise, older woman I’d come to trust as a confidante and more like one of The BTC girls with her own doubts, foibles, and insecurities like everyone else.

And she looked like she could use a kiss.

So I kissed her.

And I kissed her.

And I kissed her.

When we finally separated, she stared up at me with liquid eyes, murmuring, “You’re making me feel like I’m falling in love with you again.”

I gave her a sideways smirk. “And this is a bad thing?”

“I told you I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of getting my heart broken. Again.”

I took a deep breath and sighed. One thing that had been made clear to me during Skylar’s confession of her scandalous, ill-fated romance with her father’s business partner was that she well and truly couldn’t help herself. She’d fallen in love with the man. She’d been young, impetuous, and unrealistically irrational about the whole thing, but she’d truly loved the man. It didn’t matter to her that he was married. It didn’t matter that there would be a scandal once everyone found out.

It didn’t matter that what she was doing was an outright betrayal to a beloved family member.

Their affair might’ve gone undiscovered, if only she’d been willing to walk away.

But she’d been in love.

So she didn’t walk away.

And then he broke her heart.

And that wasn’t the only time she’d gotten her heart broken.

Peter had been the latest boyfriend to break up with Skylar instead of the other way around. I’d expressed incredulity on Saturday morning when Skylar told me the guy had been the one to call it off, insisting my belief that no human male in his right mind would ever break up with a gorgeous creature like her. But Skylar had given me a kindly smile and explained that her situation wasn’t so very different from Sam’s: one with very little time for a relationship.

And I knew Skylar was worried about the same happening again.

“If you’re worried about me leaving you over lack of quality time,” I pointed out. “I’m uniquely suited to never demanding more of a girl’s time than she has available to give, assuming she’s willing to put up with me splitting my own attention four or five different ways.”

“Would I be your fourth girlfriend? Or number five?” she asked with a teasing smirk. “Does Eva count now?”

“I still don’t know if you count.”

“I both want to count and don’t.” Skylar let her gaze drift past my left shoulder. “The lonely girl inside me wants to love and be loved. The realist who’s gotten burned too many times rationalizes that if we’re not ‘together’, we can never break up.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into a relationship you’re not ready for.”

“What if I want you to pressure me because it’ll make me feel like you really want me?”

I sighed and thought back on Mari, Holly, and Lily. The last one made me stop and sigh, muttering, “I do want you, but Kipona aloha takes time.”

“Kipo-what?”

“Lily’s ‘deep love’ thing,” I explained. “But ‘deep love’ takes time. Everyone has to go through the shallow water first before getting out into the deep blue ocean.”

“Now I remember the conversation. It was right after Lily left you, but while you were trying to decide whether or not you and Isabela could ever develop into something more instead of just going through the motions.”

I nodded in confirmation.

Skylar’s eyebrows went up. “Am I nothing more to you than a Pokémon to add to your collection? Tell me now, Matty, before I let my heart get even more vulnerable than it already is.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not a Pokémon. You’re Skylar. You’re my friend, my confidante. I’ve been coming to you for advice all semester, and I’ve cherished every single one of our conversations.”

“While surreptitiously ogling my big boobs, bubble butt, and pouty lips. Fantasizing about ramming your dick into all three of my holes and yet pretending to be a respectful gentleman about it.”

I frowned. “I wasn’t pretending to--”

“Well you finally did it, Mr. Big-Dick Hotshot. You’ve shagged the sexy blonde. You’ve cum in her, on her, and covered your T.A.’s T&A with your sticky sperm.”

I rolled my eyes at her mocking tone and muttered, “Covered my T.A.’s T&A? I haven’t cum on your ass yet, actually. We should do that first before I dump you.”

“Matty!” Skylar admonished, slapping my upper arms.

I gave her a patient look and said, “If it makes you feel better to denigrate me into a boorish college frat boy out to add notches to his bedpost in order to walk away and feel better about yourself, then by all means go right ahead. I promised I’d be whatever you needed me to be, and if that’s what it takes so you can walk out of this house with a clear conscience, I can do that for you. But I’m pretty sure that’s not what you really want.”

“Then what do I really want?”

“You don’t really know what you want, and to be honest, neither do I,” I admitted. “What I DO know is that we both very desperately want this friendship to survive. We both want me to visit your apartment between classes and just hang out and chat for an hour. We both want me to continue seeing you as a trusted confidante. Neither of us wants you to feel alone and isolated ever again. And when it really comes down to it, if making sure all that happens meant you and me never having sex again, we’d accept that, wouldn’t we?”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-haven’t-gone-a-day-without-getting-laid-in-over-a-year.”

I blinked and then paused to think back over the past several months, trying to think of the last time I’d gone a full day without having sex.

“Thanks for proving my point,” Skylar sighed before I could even think back more than a few months.

“Well the girls did pull a sex boycott on me… Oh, and there was this day after Thanksgiving…” I caught Skylar rolling her eyes, gave her a sheepish grin, and finished lamely, “…but that’s not important.”

“We’re keeping the friendship, and I’m NOT turning down more hookups with that big dick,” Skylar insisted. “Understood?”

I grinned. “Understood. But as for your girlfriend status?”

Skylar took a deep breath. “I’m still feeling wounded from my past. My life is too crazy busy for me to seriously consider the future. All I have right now is the present. So let’s start with ‘just friends’ and see how it goes.”

I nodded. “Works for me.”

Skylar grinned, and after glancing at the clock, she winked at me. “It’s after midnight, Matty. Do you know what day it is?”

I blinked and thought about that. “Why, it’s Christmas Day.”

“It’s Christmas Day, and you’re my present.”

“Merry Christmas, Skylar. Merry Christmas.”

****

“If you’d told me at the start of school that I’d wake up Christmas morning with a naked Skylar Sutcliffe in my arms, I wouldn’t have believed you, and yet there I was,” I stated with a wry shake of my head.

“Was it everything you’d dreamed about?” Belle asked with a gleam in her eyes, sitting cross-legged at the foot of her childhood bed. It was mid-morning Christmas Day, and I’d driven down to Belle’s house to spend the holiday with my ‘family’.

I thought back to those first moments of consciousness. The morning air had been cold against both of my cheeks, and as I slowly blinked my eyelids awake, I realized that I was flat on my back. Skylar was curled up against my side with my left arm around her: her head pillowed on my chest, her left arm hugging my midsection, and her left leg thrown over mine. Even slack-jawed and drooling just a bit on my bare chest, she was still unquestionably beautiful. But even more than her physical attractiveness, I found myself eminently pleased to see her looking so completely at peace.

I still remembered Skylar’s disheveled appearance in the middle of Finals Week: limp hair, dark circles beneath her eyes, slumping posture. There had been tension in her jaw. Every sentence she spoke seemed to require a great deal of energy from her. And her shoulders sagged from carrying the weight of so much responsibility. But now the semester was over, and she’d slept like a babe within my embrace. A lock of honey-blonde hair fell across her forehead, obscuring my view of her pretty face, so I reached up and gently brushed it back with my fingertips so I could admire her better.

Belle was waiting for me to finish my ruminations, and she smiled when I refocused my eyes on her.

“I can’t say it was everything I dreamed about, because I never really dreamed about it,” I explained. “The idea of having that kind of quiet intimacy with Skylar wasn’t something I ever thought would really happen.”

“Until it did.”

I nodded.

“Well, was the sex everything you’d fantasized about?” Belle continued with a teasing grin.

I waggled my head. “You know I won’t talk about that stuff.”

“I’m not asking you to reveal any secrets about her,” Belle argued. “I’m asking about your experience. Did her tits feel firm and supple in your hands or limp and squishy? Did her pussy taste sweet or spicy? Was she tight around your thick cock or stretched out and flabby like an old lady?”

“How would I even know the answer to that last one?”

“Use your imagination.”

“I’d rather not,” I scowled, looking mildly disgusted. “First of all, Skylar’s not ‘old’. Second of all, each of those questions was about her.”

“Whatever. Details. I need details!”

“I thought Zofi gave you all the details?”

“Pssht. Zofi wouldn’t have enough time on Christmas Day to give me all the details AND give Neevie all the details and Mari and Alice and--”

“I get it, I get it.”

“Theoretically, I have an advantage because I can get all the details from you first-hand instead of playing a game of Telephone with everyone else. Seems fair since Neevie somehow failed to tell me that she’d arranged for Zofi to come take care of you over the weekend instead of doing the Christmas Eve group thing we’d originally talked about and let me freak out about leaving you without a bed partner,” she muttered. “But that aside, for your own self-interest, you should understand that the more you tell me, the more I can tell everyone else, so that they’ll stop calling and texting you.”

As if to punctuate that statement, my phone chimed with another incoming text message. It was the fifth one I’d received since arriving at Belle’s house, and I hadn’t bothered yet to read any of them.

A second later, Belle’s cell phone rang, but she hit the End button to send the call to voicemail and kept her attention on me.

I sighed. I’d already spoken to all of the girls this morning after Skylar left, calling up each of them to say “Merry Christmas” and that I was looking forward to seeing them soon. Zofi had been the last, and that was also when I’d given her the green light to go ahead and tell the others about Skylar. The explosion of texts and phone calls from the girls had started rolling in within minutes.

But I hadn’t answered any of them yet. I wasn’t ready to deal with all those questions, and instead chose to think about how it felt to kiss Skylar goodbye and then watch her drive away.

After waking up this morning, I’d lain there for ten minutes or so, just watching Skylar sleep on my chest, unwilling to move and potentially disturb her slumber. She eventually woke up on her own, blinking slowly, slurping up the drool leaking from the corner of her mouth, and then wiping at the puddle while giving me an apologetic wince. I smiled and extended my arm to grab a tissue from the box on the nightstand, cleaning up myself as well as giving Skylar another tissue so she could wipe up her face. And then she settled in for a pleasant morning makeout session.

Although I’d woken up with morning wood, that had deflated over the previous ten minutes of watching Skylar sleep, replaced by an urgent need to pee. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and when I returned, I found her sitting up feeling groggy and instinctively covering her nudity with the blankets. I knew it wasn’t in her nature to show off her figure, and I felt glad she’d been happy enough to go without clothes for the entire previous day. And when I sat on the bed and drew her into my arms for another kiss, she readily let go of the blankets and let me lower her back down to the mattress, where I let my hands do a little roaming and fondling and tickling her teats.

But she’d stopped me when I slid my hand down between her thighs, grimacing and saying she was sore. I went over to Belle’s room to retrieve a tube of the topical cream she used to help manage her pain in those sensitive areas and offered it to Skylar. The blonde blushed and tried to say that she’d be fine without it, but I insisted for her sake. And then she shooed me out of the room rather than let me see her rub the cream onto her reddened, raw, overused genitalia.

I’d wound up making breakfast for both of us. Skylar had packed a change of clothes for one night, not two, but it worked out since we’d gone completely nude all day on Sunday. She dressed, made herself reasonably presentable, if not all dolled-up like Saturday night, and then came downstairs to join me. I tried to talk her into joining me in driving down to Belle’s house for Christmas, arguing that it wasn’t so different from joining me for Thanksgiving. But Eva wouldn’t be with us this time and Skylar didn’t want to feel awkward about crashing by herself. And when she started complaining that I’d kept her from finishing her technical writing contract work all weekend as it was, I’d finally acquiesced and let her go.

“Give Zofi a little credit,” Belle argued after her cell phone pinged with an additional text message. “She could’ve told us all what happened the instant she left your house yesterday, and then your phone would’ve been blowing up then.”

I nodded. “I should thank Zofi for sitting on that bit of gossip for almost a full twenty-four hours before telling the rest of you.”

“Exactly. And unless you want all of the girls pestering both of us looking for information, you gotta give me something I can share with the rest of them.”

My cell phone chimed again.

I exhaled slowly and nodded, thinking it over. “The sex stuff is out of the question. Everybody knows it happened, and none of you need the details of how often or in what positions or any of that stuff.”

“Fine,” Belle griped.

“I think the most important thing to say is that Skylar said she wants to have friends again. She wants to come hang out with The BTC: calling dibs for backrubs, making meals together, and hanging around the living room and having study breaks.”

Belle grinned. “She does know what happens during study breaks, right?”

I smirked, knowing exactly what Belle would want to hear. “She said she wants to try everything, including letting Matty’s Little Cumslut slurp out a creampie and snowball it back to her.”

Belle’s eyes glittered. “Oh, she’s gonna fit right in.”

I smiled. “I hope so, B. I really hope so.”

****

“Are you two finally ready to open presents?” Mr. K called up the stairs as Belle and I emerged from her bedroom and started our descent, our footsteps thumping on each stair tread.

“Yes, Dad,” Belle called back. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I should’ve known the very first thing you’d do when Matt showed up would be to drag him up to your bedroom and… Huh…”

Belle’s dad gave us both a puzzled look as he looked up from his spot on the La-Z-Boy, his voice trailing off while Belle and I walked into the living room.

“Huh what?” Belle queried.

Mr. K blinked, popped his eyebrows, and then gave us both a sheepish look. “Nevermind.”

“No, what?” Belle insisted.

I chuckled, explaining, “Your dad thought you’d drag me up to your bedroom and immediately jump me after being away for two days. Instead we were just… talking.”

Mr. K sighed and shrugged. “Admittedly, there’s a part of me that would rather believe you two never do more than talking every time you two go up into your room. And yet I can’t help but wonder: Is something wrong?”

Belle snorted. “Something must be wrong because I didn’t jump Matty as soon as he arrived?”

“Well…” He waggled his head. “Is there something wrong?”

“Relax, Daddy. We’re fine. We were talking about other stuff – the kind of teenage drama stuff you don’t want to hear.”

“Fair enough.” Mr. K raised his hands. “Ignorance is bliss.”

“Besides,” Belle giggled. “Matty doesn’t want to have sex with me while you’re in the house. Said he’d feel weird and awkward about it.”

“Oh.” Mr. K blinked in surprise, started to nod, but then frowned. “I find myself torn between being relieved and wondering if I should go run an errand to let my little girl and her boyfriend have some privacy.”

“Ooh! Errand! Errand!” Belle enthused.

I immediately added, “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe later,” Mr. K suggested with a warm smile for Belle, and the warmth of his smile continued when he looked at me. “If it were any other boy, I’d stay right here and maybe even insist you two keep the bedroom door open. But… well… you’re Matt.”

He looked like he wanted to add a little more to that, but in the end he pursed his lips together and shrugged silently.

And the room got awkward for a second.

“So… Opening presents time?” I interjected, clapping my palms together and then gesturing with them at the decorated Christmas tree.

“Great idea.” Mr. K stood up from his La-Z-Boy recliner and came to join us as Belle and I knelt down by the tree. There were half a dozen wrapped presents there: the three of us got two each – and I’d deposited my two presents there as soon as I’d arrived. And after Belle sorted out each other’s gifts, we took turns opening them.

Belle, the spoiled little brat, always went first. Her dad had bought her a trendy rose gold Burberry watch, which Belle cooed over remarking that it was “Soooo pretty!”

My gift to Belle was a Canon PowerShot S20 digital camera. Belle squealed and tackled me to the floor, giving me a big smooch of thanks…

… at least until her dad cleared his throat rather conspicuously. And when we looked up, he chuckled and flashed Belle a wink.

I suggested that Mr. K go next, but he waved me onwards, stating, “Kids first. That’s always been the tradition, and you’ll always be ‘kids’, no matter how old you two get.”

Mr. K had also bought me a watch, an all-black Movado. He knew I liked the minimalist style, and I gave him a warm hug in thanks.

Belle’s gift to me was in an envelope, and I found myself curious as to what it might be. When I realized there was an index card inside the envelope, I immediately held it to my chest and made sure the handwriting wouldn’t be visible to Belle’s dad, just in case Belle had written something naughty. But after reading the card just once, I laughed and then went ahead and flipped the card around so that Mr. K could see.

He leaned forward and squinted a bit, reading aloud, “‘Get out of jail free: Turn in card to be forgiven for one unforgivable mistake. Belle.’” He smirked up at me. “Something tells me you’re gonna need a LOT more of those cards, young man.”

“With this one’s short temper? You’re probably right,” I agreed while stroking Belle’s back.

“Whaaat? I’m a perfect little angel and the most understanding and patient woman on the entire planet,” Belle insisted while coyly batting her eyelashes at me, doing her level-best to look utterly innocent. She then puckered up and gave me a quick peck, adding, “Merry Christmas, Matty.”

“Merry Christmas, B.”

“Open up mine next, Daddy!” Belle enthused a moment later, sliding over a small rectangular box.

Mr. K neatly slipped his fingernail into the narrowest crevice, his skilled surgeon’s hand neatly popping open the taped fold of the wrapping paper. Within moments he’d undone Belle’s wrapping job without tearing a single bit of the wrapping paper, and then held up what initially looked like a picture frame featuring two side-by-side 4”x6” portrait-oriented photo slots. But then he smiled and turned the picture frame around so I could see the front of it.

On the left side was a 4”x6” headshot of Belle, taken recently somewhere in the Berkeley house. One of the girls had probably snapped the photo for her. She beamed a pearly grin at the camera, with bright green eyes and the sunlight catching the red in her strawberry-blonde hair, and she looked absolutely adorable.

On the right side was a mirror, and a decorative sign beneath the mirror read: My little girl loves me, and she always will.

“Aww, Belle…” Mr. K drawled with a smile, and he opened his other arm just in time for her to snuggle up against her daddy’s side, wrap both arms around his midsection, and nuzzle her cheek against his chest.

I smiled and sat back, happy to see both of them so happy on Christmas morning.

“Okay, Matt. Last but not least,” Mr. K announced as he reached for the final wrapped present. “I knew this was yours right away: this shitty wrapping job could only have been done by a dude.”

Belle and I both laughed. I really had done a haphazard job wrapping the present, not bothering with exact creases or precise folds. The container itself also wasn’t quite rectangular, given that I’d used the box from a pair of Nike running shoes I’d recently bought, and the lid was slightly larger than the rest of the box.

Before unwrapping it, though, Mr. K took note of the odd sounds it made when he picked it up. He shook the box, frowning as he remarked, “It sounds like there are rocks in this thing.”

Rather than try to precisely open my present, Mr. K instead tore open the wrapping paper, discovered the shoebox, and pried off the lid.

“There ARE rocks in there!” Belle exclaimed in surprise, peering inside.

“The rocks aren’t the present,” I explained with a chuckle. “Those were just sitting in the Berkeley house backyard.”

Having prepared the present myself, I obviously knew that underneath the rocks was a single sheet of college-rule paper, upon which I’d written a mini-essay in blue ink. Mr. K glanced up at me in surprise, but then with arched eyebrows, he reached into the box, withdrew the paper, and set down the rock-filled shoebox. The paper was folded in thirds, and after unfolding it and holding it up, he once again began to read aloud.

“‘To…’” he began before abruptly stopping. Mr. K let the paper drop a bit as he gave me a sharp look, looking quite surprised.

“To what?” Belle complained impatiently. “What does it say?”

Mr. K looked at his daughter, looked back at me, and finally returned his attention back to Belle. “It says… ‘To my dad’.”

By then I’d already scooted across the gap between us. I was taller than Mr. K, so there was no way I’d fit under his arm. Instead I merely parked myself next to him, wrapped myself around him in a warm hug, trapping his arms and all, and I said quite seriously, “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

****

“Hey, Matty?” Belle called. “Can you get the fancy plates out?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I nodded, poured out my chopped carrots into the Vitamix blender, and hit start. Belle’s latest idea to help maintain her dad’s health was to have him drink smoothies more often, with spinach and kale mixed in with frozen fruit and apple juice.

Heading out to the dining room, I opened the china cabinet and pulled out the “fancy plates” as Belle put it, along with the matching serving platters, gravy boat, and crystal stemware. Out of habit, I originally pulled out four sets of everything, but caught myself halfway through and paused for a moment.

The fourth set – Mother’s set – wouldn’t be needed. I suddenly realized that for all of her absences in my life growing up, perhaps the only day I could count on her to be with me was on Christmas Day. She missed a few Thanksgivings here and there, but not Christmas…

… not until this year.

This year, Mother was in New York.

This year, Mother couldn’t be bothered to fly back and visit her only child for Christmas.

This year, Mother couldn’t be bothered to even call.

You know phone calls can be made in two directions, right? Sam’s voice echoed in my mind.

I could also hear Sam saying, Your mother loves you. She asks about you all the time.

I knew Sam wouldn’t lie to me about that sort of thing, and yet, I couldn’t help but wonder why Mother had never called me directly. Yes, it was nice to know that she kept in touch with Sam and still wanted to know what was going on in my life. But would it have really killed her to pick up the phone and call ME? Like… once in the past four months? It wasn’t as if I even needed or wanted an hourlong awkward conversation with her. Just spare her only child two minutes to say, ‘Merry Christmas’, you know?

You know phone calls can be made in two directions, right?

I knew that, but I knew that I didn’t want to call her. Not me. I couldn’t make the first move. I wouldn’t make the first move.

For too many years of my childhood, I felt like I’d been the only one trying to make an effort. I remembered bringing a special Mother’s Day card home in 3rd grade, made from red and pink construction paper, Elmer’s glue, and glitter. I’d walked into her home office with the card behind my back, saying I had a surprise for her, but she’d dismissed me out of hand, saying that she was on a conference call and couldn’t be bothered.

I could vividly recall standing in front of the door she’d just closed in my face, still with that card behind my back. I’d tossed it into the kitchen trash under the sink and never seen it again.

I remembered the first time I got a 4.0 GPA on my report card in eighth grade. I knew she valued academics and thought she’d be proud of seeing me succeed. I thought that maybe by becoming a high achiever, she’d pay more attention to me. She was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking wine when I slid it across the countertop to her and proudly stated I’d gotten straight A’s.

She’d picked up the report card, frowned, and pointed out, ‘This says you got an A-minus in U.S. History.’

‘It still counts as an A,’ I’d argued.

‘But does it? Does it really?’ she’d questioned.

I didn’t bother showing her my report cards anymore.

And I remembered writing a Christmas letter ‘To my Mom’ my freshman year of high school. We’d been in this very same house with the Kramers, of course, although I hadn’t put the letter in a shoebox with a bunch of rocks – just a nice red-and-green Christmas envelope.

She’d read the letter silently, her expression inscrutable while I watched her out of the corner of my eye. We hadn’t taken turns opening presents back then – it was more of a free-for-all with the parents watching me and Belle opening their gifts at the same time, and then later opening theirs while Belle and I were selfishly focused on our new swag. But this time I was focused on watching Mother, and when she was finished reading, she actually had real moisture in her eyes. She’d come over to give me a hug and said, ‘Thank you, Matthew.’ I’d smiled and started to feel a touch of hope that our relationship might take a turn for the better.

And then… nothing.

The next day, it was as if I’d never written her a damn thing. Same absent Mother. Same lonely life.

She wasn’t… present.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Mother hadn’t been present in my life for my entire life. Why would I think something would magically change with a single letter? I’d made countless attempts to try and build a meaningful relationship with the only biological parent in my life from the time of my first memories up until that letter freshman year.

After that, I just gave up. I didn’t need her anyways. I had Belle.

I had Mr. K.

He was the only ‘parent’ who ever gave a damn, and I told him in the letter that I appreciated that. He’d always asked me about my day. He’d always asked me about school, about my social life, and yes, he even asked me about girls.

Who taught me how to use a power drill and a table saw? Mr. K.

Who taught me how to change the oil in my car? Mr. K.

Who taught me about men’s fashion and what styles of clothing girls liked to see? Well, Belle and The BTC, mostly. But I did ask Mr. K for his opinion as well.

In plain and simple fact, my own biological father never taught me a fucking thing, and Mother had done little more than teach me to be self-sufficient. Everything I knew I’d either learned on my own…

… or I’d learned them from him, the only male role model I’d ever had in my life.

The only parental role model I’d ever had in my life.

I put the fourth set back into the china cabinet. It wasn’t needed.

****

Belle and I wrapped up dinner together in our usual fashion, sharing the kitchen space on autopilot and working in perfect harmony. I passed behind her several times and always reached out to fondle her ass as I went, much to her delight. And after the third or fourth time I did so, she spun around giggling with such mirth in her sparkling pale-green eyes that I had to stop and give her a sweet kiss as well.

The three of us had a pleasant meal together and an amiable conversation, which mostly revolved around Mr. K wanting to catch up on the things going on in my life and me occasionally asking about the things going on in his - given that he and Belle had already gotten that kind of information from each other, having spent a couple of days catching up one-on-one. I talked about my classes and Finals and my future plans for my Engineering major. Mr. K repeated a funny story about some intra-hospital shenanigans between two doctors that he’d already told Belle.

We spent some time talking about current events, like the recent presidential election’s recount, the BCS title game controversy, and the Texas 7 prison-escapees. We bemoaned yet another lost Golden State Warriors season in addition to a terrible 49ers season. And we talked a little bit about the upcoming Mammoth Mountain trip with the rest of The BTC.

Although we’d opened a bottle of wine, none of us consumed nearly as much as we’d done during Thanksgiving when both Skylar and Eva were with us as well. Belle and I started to clean up, but after we’d carried all of the dishes into the kitchen, Belle shooed me back out, saying, “Go talk to Dad.”

I blinked in surprise and arched a questioning eyebrow, not only at the change in routine (usually Belle and I cleaned up together), but also because I heard a peculiar note in her voice instructing me to go talk to her dad, not asking. And don’t think I didn’t notice she’d omitted the qualifier “my” before “Dad”.

“Is there something in particular we should be talking about?”

Belle merely smirked as she pressed herself up against my chest and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Just go talk to him.”

And then she gave me a healthy shove in the chest.

Chuckling, I let her push me away and started to turn away. But halfway through my turn, I thought better of it and walked right back up to Belle, who squeaked in surprise when I wrapped her up in my arms and grabbed two meaty handfuls of her ass, lifting her up into the air as I sealed my lips over hers in a fierce kiss that took her breath away. And when I did pull back, leaving her panting, I murmured, “I love you, my Annabelle. Always have. Always will.”

She beamed, “I love you too, Matty.”

Only then did I set her back down on her feet and leave the kitchen.

Mr. K had relocated back to his La-Z-Boy to watch a special Christmas edition of Monday Night Football, but when I came to join him, he muted the volume and smiled up at me.

Spoiler alert: the game wasn’t worth watching anyways.

“Hey, Matt,” he greeted.

I smirked as I sat down on the couch nearest to him. “After all these years, I really think you’re the only one who still calls me ‘Matt’ despite the number of times you must’ve heard Belle call me ‘Matty’.”

He smirked right back. “You’ve always been ‘Matt’ to me, ever since you were a baby. I spent years getting that name ingrained into my automated processes well before Belle could even speak and start calling you ‘Matty’.”

I chuckled. “Probably the exact same reason why I still call you ‘Mister’ K instead of ‘Doctor’ K.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding.

“I hope you don’t mind if I continue to call you ‘Mr. K’,” I added. “I meant what I wrote in the letter, about thinking of you as my dad. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wrap my head around actually calling you ‘Dad’ face-to-face.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m honored that you think of me as a father figure, but I agree that it would feel weird having you call me ‘Dad’ out loud after all these years of hearing ‘Mr. K’.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

“Speaking of this letter…” Mr. K sat up, used the remote to turn the TV off completely, and shifted forward in his seat while raising up a familiar piece of paper with his other hand. I found myself pleasantly surprised he was still holding onto it. He then took a deep breath before continuing, “I really am honored. It was a very pleasant surprise - and quite rewarding for an old fart like me - to believe that he’s had the kind of impact on a young man’s life that you described.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “In all honesty, it’s a letter I should’ve written a long time ago. Had I been better about expressing my appreciation for everything you did for me, a letter wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place. I took you for granted growing up. You had no obligation to look after me the way you did all those years, but you did it anyways.”

“I enjoyed looking after you, made easier by the simple fact that you were always in my house. You’ve always been like a brother to Belle, and I’ve always said you were like the son I never had.” He held up the paper again. “Like you said in this letter: we may not share any blood, but your role in my life can’t really be described in any other way… son.”

I smiled at the first time Mr. K had ever directly called me ‘son’, but chuckled and shook my head. “Sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

“Calling you ‘son’ instead of ‘Matt’? Yeah, totally weird,” he agreed. “I suppose that’s why it was easier to write ‘To my dad’ instead of saying it aloud.”

“I actually did say it aloud, when I said, ‘Merry Christmas, Dad’.”

“Oh right, you did.”

“It felt more natural in that moment, but I hope you understand if that’s more of a special occasion thing than a regular recurrence.”

“Special occasions like… Christmas?” Mr. K smiled. “Maybe my birthday?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

Mr. K blinked, his eyes getting moist. “The day I walk Belle down the aisle and hand her over to you at the altar?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Well… if Belle and I ever get that far… I mean yeah, I think it would be totally appropriate for me to call you ‘Dad’. But… please don’t start picking out baby names or anything like that. Belle and I love each other, and I know we always will, but I honestly can’t promise you that this is going to end with a confetti shower.”

“I know, I know. Forgive an old man his dreams.”

I smirked and shook my head. “That wouldn’t be weird for you at all? To have Belle get married to a man she saw as a brother while growing up?”

Mr. K shrugged. “As long as Belle’s alright with marrying a man she saw as a brother while growing up. As for me? I think most parents struggle to wrap their heads around a son-in-law becoming part of their family. With you having always been part of my family, it feels only natural.”

“Being part of this family does feel natural. Always has. It’s all I’ve ever known. That’s why I feel bad for not communicating earlier how much I’ve always respected you for the role you played in raising me, how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and how important you are in my life.”

“Especially at a time like this.”

“A time like Christmas?”

Mr. K shrugged and gestured around the house. “Your first Christmas without your mom.”

I blinked and did my best to look nonchalant. “Really? I hadn’t realized.”

“You hadn’t?”

I waved him off dismissively. “I dunno. I figured Mother would’ve already missed one or two other Christmases along the way.”

His eyes narrowed, a somewhat suspicious look on his face. He pursed his lips for a moment and then asked, “So how IS your mom doing?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t really care.”

“Oof, cold,” he muttered, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t really care?”

I shrugged again. “I’m sure she’s doing just fine and enjoying the life she’s always wanted, no longer weighed down by parenthood. I’m not really worried about her. Sam actually keeps in touch with her, and Sam hasn’t told me that anything’s wrong.”

Mr. K frowned. “But you haven’t kept in touch with her yourself?”

I shrugged once more. “She’s never called me. Not once.”

“Not once since… since she left?”

I gave him a look like it was no big deal.

He blinked. “Have you ever called her?”

“Never felt the need.”

“Matt… seriously… It’s Christmas. You should call her.” He sat up and glanced towards the cordless phone mounted to the wall by the kitchen archway.

I waved him off again. “If she wants to talk to me, she knows my cell number. She knows I’m at your house, and she knows your phone number.”

“And I know her number.” He sighed and started to get up.

“Mr. K! No. Seriously.” I waited until he sat back down and frowned at me before continuing, “I really don’t want to talk to her. If she doesn’t want to make the effort to reach out to me, I feel absolutely no need to reach out to her. I’m perfectly fine right here where I belong. With you. With Belle. This is the only family I’ve ever needed. You’re the only parent I’ve ever needed. Because you’re the only parent I’ve ever had.”

“Matt…” Mr. K began carefully. “That’s just not true.”

“Well yes, Mrs. K was an instrumental part of my life growing up until middle school, and I still have wonderful memories of her too.”

Mr. K sat back in surprise at the unexpected mention of his late wife.

“She was far more of a mother to me than my own mother was,” I continued. “If anyone deserved to hear the endearment ‘Mom’ from me, it was her. But that was the past. This is the present. And the three of us under this roof right now are the only family I need.”

Mr. K eyed me coolly. “My wife – God rest her soul - is dead. I’ll forever cherish her memory, because that’s all I have left of her, but I know she’s not coming back. Your mom is alive, and she loves you.”

I snorted. “She loves me so much she hasn’t tried to call me even once.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wrote the letter? To get back at your mom?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

Mr. K sighed with a disappointed look and raised the piece of paper. “You know, I felt really good for a minute there when I first read this letter.”

“I meant every word of that letter,” I stated seriously. “Every thought I put into there is a hundred percent sincere. There were no ulterior motives about ‘getting back at my mother’ or anything like that.”

Mr. K took a deep breath and regarded me contemplatively. After a moment, he nodded slowly, replying, “I’m glad to know the thoughts you put into that letter are sincere. But at the same time, I’m only too aware that you must’ve been feeling a little lost and isolated these last couple of days. Full disclosure: Belle specifically told me that you’ve been feeling lost and isolated, what with your mom in New York, your house being leased out to tenants, and even all of your girlfriends leaving Berkeley to spend Christmas with their families. Belle pretty much ordered me to go out of my way to make sure you felt included and part of this family unit. And even if you hadn’t written me this letter, I was planning to say something tonight about how you’ve always felt like a son to me.”

“I appreciate that. Really, I do, and I’m only sorry I didn’t make it clearer before how grateful I am that you’ve always been there for me. You took me to my first baseball game. You explained to me why I’d started growing hair on my balls and gave me the talk about the birds and the bees.” I blushed and then grinned. “You bought me my first Playboy magazine subscription.”

Mr. K laughed at that and shook his head, quipping, “I thought you’d enjoy the articles.”

I snorted and wiped a sudden tear from my eyes. “I did, actually. I read a lot of those articles.”

Mr. K just kept laughing and shook his head, eventually having to wipe a few tears from his eyes as well.

The laughter was cathartic, and after a minute, I sighed and muttered, “Belle’s right: I have been feeling a little lost and isolated lately. Maybe it’s because it’s the holidays. Maybe it’s because everyone in my life was quite literally driving away over the weekend. I found myself looking back over everything that’s happened in my life and wishing I could go back in time to do things differently and make it so that I didn’t turn out feeling so alone.”

“Every one of us has felt like that at one point or another.”

I nodded slowly, letting the fire inside me flow, letting my voice take on the hard edge of steel. “But I can’t change the past. I can’t go back in time to make my mother love me more. I can’t go back in time to save your wife. I can’t go back in time to prevent my sperm donor from leaving.”

Mr. K winced at the obvious pain in my voice and gave me a sympathetic look.

“I can’t change the past, and I don’t know what the future holds. All I have right now is the present, and I intend to make the most of these moments right now. I’m not in high school anymore. Mother’s gone. My house is gone. I’m not a kid anymore with no choice but to accept whatever he’s given. I’m a college student preparing to head out into the real world. I’m a young adult. It’s a new life for me, a life I get to choose. True family is what you make it, right? I choose you, me, and Belle.” I gestured at him with both hands and a warm expression. “My dad.”

Mr. K smirked and gestured towards the kitchen. “And your sister, apparently.”

I waggled my head. “Sister-slash-girlfriend, subject to whatever mood Belle happens to be in. What’s important to both of us is that we stay together. Forever. I told you I can’t promise you a confetti shower, but I will always love her, no matter what.”

“I know you will. And I know that the whole ‘girlfriend’ title will continue to be a…” Mr. K’s voice trailed off before he sighed and shrugged. “Well Belle won’t tell me all the details of course, but I know enough to realize that you’re also Sam’s boyfriend, and Neevie’s boyfriend, and it’s all really complicated.”

I’d started chuckling. “Definitely complicated. Any fatherly advice you can give me, Dad?”

Mr. K laughed and shook his head. “Matt’s dad would advise you not to make promises you can’t keep and don’t make any rash decisions, while Belle’s dad would advise you to get down on one knee and make my little girl an honest woman.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“Seriously, though, I both envy you and don’t envy you. Three girlfriends? You’re crazy, Matt. I can’t imagine how you’ll manage to keep three girlfriends happy when I struggle so much just to keep one woman happy.”

I raised both eyebrows. “You know I’ve always been curious about that. Do you have a woman to keep happy? A girlfriend you haven’t told us about?”

Mr. K blushed and looked away from me for a moment, with the kind of ‘Oh shit, I got caught’ expression that already answered my question.

“Daddy!” Belle suddenly exclaimed, and we both whipped our gazes around to find her pushing off from the wall by the kitchen archway and striding rapidly into the living room. “You never told me you were dating!”

Mr. K blinked twice, looked at Belle, looked at me, and then stammered as he returned his attention back to Belle. “W-well… uh… y-you… You never asked.”

****

At the end of the evening, I reclined against Belle’s headboard with two pillows beneath my lower back for support. My Baby Belle lay her head down on my chest and cuddled up against me. I hugged her close, my left hand palming her cute little tushie while my right hand stroked her side and then lightly rubbed her head. And when I tugged the blankets up and over her shoulder, she sighed in pure contentment, as snug as a bug in a rug.

The plan had been to come visit the Kramers for Christmas and then drive myself back to Berkeley. But my “dad” and my “little sister” convinced me to stay the night. I’d actually been drinking some of the wine and didn’t take much convincing.

I still told Belle I didn’t want to have sex tonight, though. Not with her dad in the house. Foolish me, I thought she might actually listen.

Belle insisted she could keep quiet “enough” if her mouth was full, and furthermore that Matty’s Little Cumslut needed to taste her big brother’s tasty jizz for Christmas. That actually got me wondering aloud if my cum actually tasted good to her, and I told her that Zofi’s opinion of my semen’s flavor was, quote “horrible”.

But Belle insisted that my cum was “super-duper yummy”, although admittedly not entirely on its own flavor profile and significantly influenced by her knowledge of the source. She then insisted she had to prove it to me, so that’s how my impish little pixie wound up burping happily after swallowing my load. And only then did she cuddle up against my side as snug as a bug in a rug… with a full belly.

We talked for a little while with Belle’s head comfortably pillowed on my chest, and eventually our conversation circled back to all those missed calls and text messages from the girls earlier in the day. I’d never actually replied to any of them, although Belle had acted as our line of communication by calling Mari earlier in the afternoon and sharing “the details” of my weekend with Skylar for further BTC dissemination. But now that we were on the subject, Belle wanted to know exactly how many texts and voicemails I’d received, so I grabbed my phone and started thumbing through them.

The cell phone’s display showed that I had 11 missed calls, but didn’t list an exact number of texts or voicemails. There was a mail icon to tell me that I had unread text messages, period, but I’d already scrolled through them earlier in the day. As expected, all of the BTC girls had messaged me to say “Merry Christmas”, and most had also stated they needed details about what happened between me and Skylar.

There was also a tape-recording icon to tell me that voicemails were waiting, and I held down the #1 button to call my voicemail service. After a few rings, the automated attendant informed me, “You have… six… new messages and… two… saved messages. To listen to your new messages, press one. To listen to your saved messages, press--”

The automated attendant’s voice cut off when I pressed the #1 button.

The first voicemail was from Naimh: expressing elation that Skylar and I had finally hooked up while simultaneously complaining that I’d done so without her, and subsequently demanding that I ensure we had a threesome sooner than later.

The second voicemail was from Belle: complaining that my devoted “little sister” should’ve learned such critical information from me personally rather than getting it from Zofi, and that she expected me to provide her with a full explanation as soon as I arrived at her house.

The third voicemail was from Alice: no complaints, just a verbal fist bump for finally tapping the busty blonde bombshell.

And then the fourth voicemail caught me by complete surprise.

Good morning, Matthew. Merry Christmas.

“Matty? What is it?” Belle kept her head on my chest, but twisted so that it was her chin braced on my pectoral muscle instead of her cheek. She’d been fiddling with her own phone, checking messages and voicemails, but her hand fell away from her ear as she stared up at me in alarm in response to the way I’d suddenly tensed up.

… impressed upon me that-- An electronic buzz sounded as I pressed the #4 button to replay the message from the beginning. I’d gone into shock at the initial sound of Mother’s voice that I’d completely missed everything else she’d said in-between.

Belle stared up at me, her eyebrows furrowed, but I held my free hand up with a single index finger extended and didn’t look at her, my eyes unseeing as I focused inward on nothing but the sounds being transmitted from my cell phone to my ear.

It took a moment, but the voicemail started to replay.

Good morning, Matthew. Merry Christmas. Mother’s voice paused, and in my mind’s eye I could see her gathering herself to continue. I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner. Force of habit, I suppose. I’ve always let you live your life without my interference, and I thought I could be most helpful to you by continuing to… not interfere. That doesn’t mean I’m unaware of what’s going on in your life; I’ve made a point of asking Samantha to share with me everything she knows. A part of me hoped you would have called me, and I suppose I’d made up my mind to wait until you did.

My mouth was dry, and I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realized Mother had called me early this morning.

And I’d missed it.

But Samantha impressed upon me that phone calls can be made in two directions, and… I… I won’t take up too much of your time. It’s Christmas, and even if I’ve never been a very good mother to you, the very least I can do is call you to say: Merry Christmas, Matthew. I love you. Please call me back when you get a chance.

The recording ended, and the automated attendant started playing the fifth voicemail, which was Naimh squawking about me not picking up my phone or answering her text messages. But I hit the End button on my phone and immediately thumbed the Menu button to switch to my Contacts list. Mother’s cell phone wasn’t one of my speed-dials, but just as soon as I scrolled down to my entry for “Mother”, I stopped just short of initiating a call.

It was after 10pm on the West Coast, which meant it would be after 1am in New York: far too late at night for a phone call. It wasn’t even Christmas Day where she was anymore.

I’d missed my window.

I’d missed a chance to talk to my mom on Christmas.

She’d probably gone to bed thinking her son had heard her voicemail and then dismissed it out of hand. I rather doubted she’d even be surprised.

“Matty?” Belle prodded.

“I complain a lot about her not being a very good mother,” I muttered. “But right at this moment, I feel like a really shitty son.”

With a sigh, I hit the buttons to start a text message instead. Typing on the 9-digit keypad was still annoying, but I managed to tap out: sorry so late just got ur msg mry xmas luv u 2

It was after 1am and her phone would surely be on silent now. After hitting Send, I closed my eyes, set my head back against the headboard, and sighed.

Belle snuggled up against me, lightly scratching my chest with her fingernails. “What’s going on?” she asked quietly. There was no tone of demand in her voice, no expectation that I immediately explain. She was simply reminding me that she was with me, ready and available to listen.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, unsure just yet how I wanted to explain.

And then my phone rang in my hands. My eyes popped open wide, and at first I stared at the phone in shock, unable to react. But immediately after it rang a second time, my thumb managed to stab the Talk button, and I put the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked uncertainly.

“Merry Christmas, Matthew.”

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Patrons will maintain a 2-week head start on StoriesOnline and Literotica. For anyone who can't wait, VIP Tier has the complete first draft: https://www.patreon.com/posts/btc-2-0-complete-102426293

Remember that all authors thrive on feedback, so let me know how you're enjoying the story! Leave a comment here or come chat with us on Discord! And be sure to connect your Discord account here on the Patreon website to get access to the Patron-Only channels! https://discord.gg/fg3m6MdfN9

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Prologue & Chapter 1: The BTC: https://www.patreon.com/posts/99290461

Chapter 2: Hoalauna: https://www.patreon.com/posts/99357682

Chapter 3: E10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/99433482

Chapter 4: Leeloo: https://www.patreon.com/posts/99506524

Chapter 5: The Fifth Element: https://www.patreon.com/posts/99618767

Chapter 6: Lily: https://www.patreon.com/posts/100326143

Chapter 7: The Hangover: https://www.patreon.com/posts/100548952

Chapter 8: Quality Time: https://www.patreon.com/posts/100806434

Chapter 9: The Favor: https://www.patreon.com/posts/101140618

Chapter 10: Ku’uipo: https://www.patreon.com/posts/101372817

Chapter 11: The R-word: https://www.patreon.com/posts/101672192