She took in that I had no pictures on the walls. No family or friends. Not even some little trinket to brighten the room… There was a bookcase made of boards and cinder block bricks but other than that the room was nearly empty. The only other furniture in the room was a little table that I had built out of scrap lumber that held my alarm clock next to my bed. She went to the bookcase and looked over my books. Most of them salvaged from a used bookstore or a second hand shop. Her fingers tracing along the books as she read along the titles. Mostly fantasy and sci-fi titles.I looked around the room and realized how pathetic I must seem to her. I looked at my little twin bed. My pitiful little table with the battered, second hand alarm clock. Handed down sheets and blankets. My one tired looking pillow. Not one ounce of personality to the room… it was like a monk’s cell, I finally realized… ‘How was I so proud of all this one minute ago?’ I asked myself.I noticed then her fingers. ’ She leaned forward and kissed me gently and deeply, a kiss that was as much affection as lust. An unstoppable feeling started to take over my balls, and I started to come inside her, burst after burst of hot sperm that filled her deepest reaches and overflowed her. We broke our kiss and our eyes met. ‘Wow,’ she said softly. ‘You really did soak me. I feel so full. I know it’s going to drip out of me and all over my legs, but I wish I could keep it all inside me.’ I looked deep in her eyes. There was a twinkle there I had not seen before. ‘Merry Christmas, Samantha,’ I said. She looked at me a moment. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she said quietly. She hesitated, looking like she wanted to say more. ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you too,’ I said. ‘We should get together more often.’ ‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘But it’s probably not practical, what with our schedules and me still being married.’ ‘Let’s do this,’ I said. ‘We can make it a point to get together every year around Christmas, and have our.
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