Mrs. Claus Cookie Therapy: Part 1

An aging couple gets a surprise gift from Mrs. Claus.Based on a post by m storyman x, in 2 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.I could hear Nancy, my wife, clinking the dishes in the kitchen as she unloaded the dishwasher. It was Christmas eve morning, and she was up and about before six. That meant only one thing as far as I was concerned, no Christmas sex this year, again. Not with the kids showing up this afternoon. I’ve found myself thinking back to the early years a lot more lately. You’d think that in my sixties, sex wouldn’t be a big deal anymore, but instead it seemed like my tolerance for her lack of desire or output was lower instead of better.I closed my eyes again and thought back to our first Christmas together as man and wife. It was a small tree, and there weren’t many presents around it, but we gave each other the best present in the world that Christmas night. We made love under the tree, not once, but multiple times. Nine months later our first daughter was born. All through our dating time she was sexually playful and we would have sex many ways and in lots of places. She never seemed bashful when she undressed for me, exposing her incredibly beautiful body. Hell, I never would have even tried to ask her out on a date if I hadn’t accidently spilled my drink all over her at McDonalds. She was way out of my class. She looked more like playboy model material than someone interested in a somewhat geeky college freshman.To my surprise, she demanded that I take her out to make up for spilling the soda all over her. So I did. And again, and again. After half a dozen dates, I built up enough nerve to suggest we mess around while we were walking in the dark through the local park. She readily agreed and the two of us made love for the first time on a picnic table in the middle of a public park. It was the first of many times we made love, in private, in semi-public areas, in the river, in the lake, well, you get the idea. She was willing to do it anywhere I felt comfortable doing it with her. She never seemed to be able to get enough of our intimacy. And it was so much more than just sex. You could see it in her eyes. She loved what I was doing with her and she loved watching me climax along with her. It became almost a game with her, to hold it as long as possible before letting herself tumble over the edge, taking me with her. But it was for me, and only me. Once we started dating there was no one else, not even close male friends that would hug or anything. It wasn’t until I proposed that I learned I was the first man to have her that way.We got married less than a year after spilling that soda on her, and we made love the first time as man and wife in the hot tub on the balcony of the bridal suite. Not one time, but twice before we finally tumbled into bed, exhausted from the day’s activities. The next months were fantastic. She seemed to delight in teasing me, skimpy or no underwear with short skirts, sexy lingerie, sometimes wearing things without a bra so her big 32 D tits would wiggle enticingly. Our first Christmas found her under the tree in a red see through negligee, a gift tag tied to the crotch of her see through panties that read “definitely open before Christmas!” We made love under that tree and we loved each other. Over the next months, her belly grew, but her desire for me didn’t change. If anything, it increased. It was almost as if being pregnant enhanced her sexual desire. And I wasn’t going to argue. She always whispered how much she loved me and how much making love with me made her feel loved.It wasn’t a surprise when sex drew to a sudden halt after Tabitha was born. I could understand it. I waited patiently, and some of the sex returned, but not nearly what it had been before. We had to plan when we had sex so we didn’t wake Mikey, interrupting us. A year later we had Julie, and sex became even less frequent. After Mandy, well, sex just didn’t seem to happen anymore. It was frustrating, but I always looked ahead and said that once the girls were grown and out of the house things would get better.College came for our sons, and we were empty nesters, but the long skirts, heavy duty bras to hold her now thirty eight triple D’s in place, and the granny panties appeared to be the future. Sex was maybe once or twice a month, if I was lucky, always in the bedroom and always the same way. It was, to say the least, depressing to see what my life had become. I was married to the most beautiful woman in town, maybe the state, and I barely got to even see her naked any more unless we shared a shower. Now here we were, twenty years past the girls moving out on their own and I was more depressed about our sex life than I could remember. I lay dreaming back to that first Christmas, picturing her lying under the tree in that see through red mesh, her legs spread, her body illuminated only by the blinking lights of the tree, looking so ...