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Farmer Brown clears the big farm kitchen. He and his kids fetch and carry while Danny recruits the bikers and their old ladies to prepare food. Danny and Carmine spend the day cooking with Candace Brown, the mother of the family.
While everyone works around the hot, steamy kitchen range, Candace leads everyone in singing Christmas carols. By the end of a hard day, she has them all in perfect four-part harmony.
The food is all ready and the presents are wrapped. With the bikers and the Brown family, we toast to Christmas with Carmine, Drago and Danny in their pristine Santa suits.
And when everyone raises a glass to me, I’m finally proud to own my name.
“Tinka Belle! Our Christmas angel!”
That night, Drago, Danny, Carmine and I stay over on the farm.
We’re all too tired to do anything but sleep. Until we undress and get into bed.
Then, I sit up on Carmine’s hips and lower myself onto his hard, thick spike. I take Danny and Drago’s candy canes in my hands and in my mouth while Carmine reams me raw on his pole. Then I get up on all fours for Danny, and Carmine kisses and sucks my breasts while I almost choke, swallowing the whole of Drago’s massive yule log.
All six hands fly over my pussy, my ass, my tits and everywhere else until I’m giddy and drunk, pitching from one cascading blast to the next precipice.
I straddle Danny’s hot shaft. Carmine and Drago kneel in front of me and I suck them alternately, relishing their distinct flavors in my throat. I love the feeling of each of their asses. Strong, toned, round and hard. But all distinct.
Danny’s glutes are firm and responsive, like a race car engine, or a racehorse, but covered. The curves are softer. His strength rises from deeper down when his rhythm hardens and his muscles tense.
Drago is lean, supple, and solid. Like a fighter. Fast and hard.
Carmine is just big all over, everything about him. When his muscles engage, he’s like a freight train. Long, hot, and unstoppable.
Slow, hard and strong, one by one, Danny, Drago, and Carmine all take turns to pump and pulse, hosing their long, thick finish, deep inside me.
We slumber and doze, wrapped together.
In the morning, part buried and surrounded by such a wealth of male magnificence, I take each of them in my mouth in turn.
With three heavy doses of hot jizz down my neck, I think I have my protein for the day. I could live on that.
Chapter Twenty
Tinka
Early on Christmas morning, I get a call from Clarkson.
His thin, nasal voice makes my phone rattle. He is ‘very unhappy’ to tell me that the children will not be coming. The bishop arranged for the Chamber of Commerce to hold a party for them at the bishop’s manse.
“It will be a much more suitable arrangement, all around. I’m sure you see that. Clive, the driver, has strict instructions to drive Bonnie and the children straight to the bishop’s manse, first thing this morning. They should be on their way now.”
Before I let it all sink in, I have to call Angela. “You said it would be all right,” she says. “You promised.”
“I know, Angela.”
“And it will. Me and Jack are sure it will.”
Candace and I stand with Carmine in his Santa robes. From the head of the two long, empty improvised wood tables and benches, we look forlornly down the length of the barn. Drago and Danny are by the open barn door with their arms hanging at their sides.
Through the door, we watch a slow, steel-gray bus rock and lumber through the farm gate and into the yard.
Bonnie steps out first, but she can’t slow the bust of little arms and legs and bright smiling faces as the children rush with their hands outstretched and their arms wide into the barn.
From the back, Angela shouts, “See? Tinka promised it would be all right!”
Jack shares a look with Bonnie and thanks her as he scurries past her.
