‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree’
– Mariah Carey, All I want for Christmas
I love my family, I really do. But they are fucking everywhere. Every room of the whole house is overflowing with relatives. Brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents. It’s wonderful, it’s buzzing with festive cheer, it’s Christmas…it’s not what I want this year.
This year, I can barely look at you, I want you so much. This year, I long for time, for a window in the celebrations where I can take your cock in my mouth and feel you thicken as I suck you in deeper. I want to taste you. I want to feel your skin against mine, feel your breath on my neck, feel your hands on my arse.
But there are traditions to be upheld. Grand meals to be prepared and eaten, presents to be opened, elderly relatives to be entertained. The decorative lights illuminate every corner, people mill around everywhere, helping and actively avoiding help. There’s no space to hide, no space to pull you aside and fuck you like I want. Quick and hard and dirty. I want to bite down on my lip to smother the sound I would normally cry out. I want to go back to dinner with your come coating my thighs. I want to ache inside. I want to feel bruised, but released.
Instead, I help cook the turkey, I have long and repetitive conversations with my grandmother, I play with my cousins. I try to hide that my mind is already miles away, that I am squeezing my legs together as I imagine your mouth and your tongue, that I didn’t hear what my uncle was saying because I really wasn’t listening. I pretend that I can wait until the holiday is over. I pretend that the enforced distance, the constant family presence, the inappropriate timing doesn’t just make me want you even more. I pretend that this is another normal Christmas.
What do I want for Christmas? Exactly what I always want…