A Christmas Futa Ch 7

The chirp as Riley locks the car in front of the rental comes out sounding sad and distorted. The car’s going to have to be looked at, but she isn’t about to try to get a tow on Christmas Eve. And she’s late enough already. So late that she’s cringing as she mounts the front steps. She texted, of course. It’s not like Ingrid’s been here wondering where she is, but still.

Riley pauses in front of the door, frowning at the keypad. She doesn’t remember the code. Before she can get her phone out to check, the door opens and warm air and nice smells waft out.

Ingrid has gotten her hair curled; it looks amazing. But she’s just wearing sweats and a zipper hoodie. That’s odd. She only dresses like that when she’s sick or on her period. And she’s not on her period. Maybe that’s why she’s been weird; it seems like everyone’s coughing this time of year.

“I’m so sorry,” Riley says, meaning it.

Ingrid stares at her; at her eyes, no doubt. She can tell that Riley has been crying.

“I’m fine,” Riley assures her quickly. “I didn’t get hurt. I was crying because I’m pathetic. It’s cool. Really.”

Ingrid pulls her firmly into the little house and shuts the door. She doesn’t seem to be upset. She doesn’t seem droopy or puny like she usually does when she’s not feeling well. So maybe she’s not sick. She seems… perky. But it’s not her usual perky. There’s a tension in it that Riley’s not sure what to think about. She’s also not sure if it’s healthy to be quite this attentive to every detail of her wife’s nonverbals, but it’s been a long day.

“Did it go well?” Ingrid asks as Riley sheds her jacket and goes straight into the kitchen for a beer. Riley twists off the top and takes a drink, about to answer, and then she sees the table and the fire.

“Oh. That’s nice,” she says, going into the living room. Ingrid has set up the fireplace and it’s lovely. “Hell yeah.” Riley crouches on the soft rug in front of it, beer in one hand and reaching out for warmth with the other. “Like I said. I’m sorry.” It’s easier to look at the flames than at Ingrid. “I might be adrenaline crashing or something. Um, so I was on the road, and I saw something so I stopped, and then Stef and Jess hit me. It was my old science teacher. And then we had to wait for the ambulance because Jess twisted her ankle.” Riley shakes her head. “I don’t know. Did you already eat? I hope you didn’t wait for me.” She gets up and turns to find Ingrid right behind her, just lurking. Then she spots the chocolates on the coffee table nearby; the wrapper is off and the box is open. Half of them are gone. Ingrid has been snacking. Riley comes to her senses. “I’m sorry, baby.” She goes in for a quick kiss. “Yup. You taste like chocolate. What are we eating?”

Ingrid has made what appears to be a very serious, high-effort homemade pizza.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Did it go well?” Ingrid asks again as she pulls the chair out at the table.

“What? The doctor? Yeah. We’re good,” Riley says, taking her seat. She helps herself to pizza. She catches herself before digging in like a total cavewoman and looks up. Ingrid’s still on her feet right beside her. There’s a second place set, but Ingrid hasn’t moved toward it.

Ingrid’s staring down at her, eyes shining. This glow was not here a second ago, but the energy and tension are even higher. Riley feels a surge of panic; she’s missing something.

Ingrid’s eyes flick to the pizza, then at Riley. The pizza. Riley. This is impatience. She wants Riley to eat.

“Are you not eating?” Riley asks.

Something happens with Ingrid’s body. She’s controlling herself. This is impatience.

“You already ate. You want to open presents. I got you.” Riley’s about to say that she can multitask, but she’s starting to catch up. Finally. This isn’t about presents.

Riley twists in her chair and looks up at her wife as realization dawns.

“You were asking about the doctor,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

The problem here is that Ingrid doesn’t have a penis. Growing up with one, Riley was always well aware that the procedure that she underwent a couple of weeks ago was not a big deal, connecting things up so that she can be viable. Today, she got the final confirmation that it went fine. Ingrid’s always seemed eager to have children, but if that’s what this is about… Riley feels a pang of guilt as she realizes how badly she has underestimated how baby crazy her wife is.

“Yes. Yeah. It went fine. I am, uh, good to go,” Riley tells Ingrid, and another little vibration of excitement seems to run through her wife. Yes. This is what Ingrid wants to hear. She glows brighter and hops up on her toes for a moment. She looks at the pizza, then meaningfully at Riley.

Riley looks away, relieved that Ingrid is not mad and a little alarmed at how badly she misread all of this.

“You want me to eat. Not because you worked really hard on this pizza. But because you want…” Riley can’t even say it. Blushing, she takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. “A baby.”

Ingrid stares eagerly. All of this weirdness lately has been Ingrid stressing over the success of the operation. Unbelievable. Riley doesn’t know what to say, and she can’t face her wife. She turns and takes a bite of pizza.

She chews, swallows, and wipes her mouth.

“It’s really good,” she says and looks back up.

Ingrid’s hoodie and sweats are gone. She wears only a ribbon. It’s not a ribbon. It’s a revealing bodysuit that’s made to look as though she’s wrapped up like a Christmas gift. She seems to be fighting the urge to do a little dance like a hungry puppy waiting for its food bowl.

Right. Right. The fire. The rug, which wasn’t there earlier. The… rental. There was no family problem that prevented them from going to Norway. Ingrid wanted privacy. She didn’t want her family around and she didn’t want Riley’s family around because she wanted… a baby. Going to Norway would’ve meant not getting confirmation from American doctors until after the holiday. Ingrid doesn’t just want it, she wants it urgently enough that she’ll give up seeing her family to have it about eight days sooner.

Riley nervously swallows another drink of beer. Why hadn’t she said something? Maybe she’d assumed that Riley understood. Just like Riley had assumed that Ingrid understood that the operation would of course go fine.

“I guess dinner can wait,” Riley says, and Ingrid yanks her out of the chair and into the living room. “OK. OK. I was just in a car accident.” Riley hurriedly sheds her clothes. Switching gears from stress and exhaustion to sexy time is doable; especially with Ingrid looking like this. This is one department that Riley has confidence in.

Beaming, Ingrid pulls the ribbon and the bodysuit falls away. For once, Riley isn’t staring at her huge breasts. She has never seen Ingrid without her thick, curly, golden, totally untamed bush. Riley’s always liked it. There’s no sign of it. Ingrid is shaved smooth. That’s like a whole new view. Very different, and a little exciting. Riley can feel goosebumps all over her body, and Ingrid’s perfect, feminine beauty makes Riley self-conscious as she awkwardly climbs out of her underwear.

She hasn’t even tossed her briefs aside before she has her arms full of her wife.

Riley stops thinking and just kisses her back. Usually, she’s the one obsessing over Ingrid’s body while Ingrid just wants to make out and snuggle. Now, Ingrid’s hands caress Riley’s skin in a new way. The enthusiasm in the kiss is intense. Hungry is the only word for it.

“Mmm,” Riley grunts as she feels Ingrid’s fingers on her shaft, pulling. Then it’s Ingrid’s lips on her neck. Riley wants to laugh, but she’s too turned on and startled. She is not the one taking the lead.

Their bodies are squished together, yet Ingrid isn’t squeezing Riley. Her fingers move up and down her back, just pulling. But there’s nowhere to go, but she keeps doing it anyway. Then there’s a noticeable pull downward.

“Huh? Oh,” Riley says, taking the hint. She sinks to her knees on the rug. Because of course, Ingrid wants to do this by the fire. Is that a real Nordic thing? Or just a trope? Could go either way.

Ingrid pushes, and Riley goes with it, sitting back. As she does, the firelight catches on Ingrid’s inner thighs, streaked with moisture.

“Holy smokes,” Riley mutters, but then her wife is on top of her, kissing her face, her chin, and her neck. “Oh. Whoa.” Riley looks down, feeling all sorts of new things as Ingrid enthusiastically sucks her nipple, still jerking her cock. “Look at you,” she says breathlessly. Ingrid is acting like… well, kind of like Riley usually acts. This is nice, though. Riley has fully switched gears, and it’s a good thing, because Ingrid clearly had no plans to wait.

She climbs hastily into Riley’s lap, remembers her manners and gives Riley a cursory peck on the lips, then seizes Riley’s cock and sinks onto it. Ingrid lets out an explosive breath in Riley’s face and hugs her tight, all sorts of odd quivers and twitches coming from her body.

Riley wraps her arms around her and holds on. Ingrid likes this position, even if it is a little hard on Riley’s lower back. Especially tonight. Riley doesn’t care. Ingrid rocks her body in Riley’s arms, holding the deepest, wettest kiss in recent memory. It’s hot this close to the fire, hotter inside Ingrid, and her body is like a furnace. Fresh sweat makes Riley’s back prickle almost painfully, and Ingrid is strangely, distractingly, almost worryingly tight. She whispers something in Swedish that Riley doesn’t catch. She’s never done that during sex before. Her fingers are running through Riley’s hair.

It’s a lot very fast, and Riley has no control. None of her tricks to be good in bed work when she’s on the bottom like this.

“Baby. Take it easy,” she says.

Ingrid speeds up, looking at Riley with a sparkling gaze that Riley has no answer for.

Riley tries to contain her grunt, but she can’t stop her fingertips from digging into Ingrid’s soft skin as her body surrenders. Ingrid lets out a shuddering breath, and her walls become vicelike around Riley’s shaft, which is just trying to do its job. Ingrid watches Riley’s face, looking almost triumphant as Riley trembles through her orgasm.

Pussy still sort of fluttering, Ingrid smiles and leans her forehead against Riley’s, looking deeply satisfied.

Riley tries to breathe, spent and sheathed in warmth.

Ingrid watches her, her arms around Riley’s neck. As soon as she sees Riley’s eyes come into focus, she kisses her. Her pussy clenches again.

Riley finally comes up for air. Still joined, they sit in front of the fire. Ingrid seems to have no interest in moving. Riley watches a bead of sweat roll into her magnificent cleavage.

That sparkle is still there in her eyes. Riley snorts.

“I think we found your kink,” she says.

Ingrid blinks and cocks her head quizzically. That’s business as usual. Even on the best day, Riley often has to slow down and repeat things for her wife to catch them. Especially with words that don’t get used every day.

“Never mind. You’re cute.” Riley gives her a soft pat on the rump. “But my back is done. Here we go.” She gently leans, letting Ingrid down on the rug. Ingrid goes only reluctantly, and as Riley slips out, Ingrid hurriedly puts her hand between her legs, protectively covering her mound.

Riley kneels there, looking down at her.

“Seriously?” she says.

Ingrid is nothing if not serious. And her lying there, legs spread, gleaming in the firelight with that look on her face and that hand down there in a weirdly demure way.

“Oh, man.” Riley considers her rapidly growing, very sore erection. “I am predictable. OK. You win.”

Ingrid’s glow intensifies as Riley climbs over her, and she eagerly moves her hand. She wraps her arms around Riley’s neck and lets out a shuddering gasp as Riley enters her. Riley eases her weight down a little, and the second there’s pressure on Ingrid’s clit, her toes curl and her pussy clamps down. Riley hisses through her teeth at the overstimulation, but she keeps moving her hips gently as Ingrid cums. And there are the fingernails. That’s OK. Riley grimaces stoically; she knew that was coming. She’s had her back scratched up before, but she’s never seen Ingrid like this. It’s Christmas, and nothing is more important to Riley than Ingrid getting what she wants.

[ The End! Merry Christmas, everybody! New Year’s story starts tomorrow! ]