- Strange charity service in the Neighborhood door – 01
- Strange charity service in the Neighborhood door – 02
- Strange charity service in the Neighborhood door – 03
- Strange charity service in the Neighborhood door – 04
She looked at me quizzically. “I was kind of surprised she came over. She didn’t say a word about what we did this afternoon.”
“Lucky you. I’ve still got the scars,” I teased. Then I told her a little about our discussion, including the insurance situation and the deal with the gifts.
“Thank God. Maybe she can finally stop working 16 hours a day, and spend some time with her daughter. That’ll be nice. I was wondering what you were going to do with all those gifts. I was afraid you were going to make a memorial out of them, leaving them there year after year, until the dust was an inch thick over them.”
Her words stung a bit. “I’m not that bad.”
“No, you’re not. Although you had me worried there for a bit. It’s just a hard thing to take. I understand that.”
“I guess it’s not a problem now.”
She smiled. “I guess not. Hannah’s a lucky little girl.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that, but at least she might have a nice Christmas.”
“I’m glad you came over tonight. A lot of our friends were worried for you. Your appearance was a nice Christmas gift for them as well.”
“I can’t say I really care too much. I know it sounds harsh, but how they feel isn’t really high up there on my list of priorities at the moment.”
“That’s Ok. It’s still nice that you came.”
“I appreciate your inviting me. And for being the nagging neighborly meddlesome busybody you’ve been for the last couple of weeks.”
She laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a while, and in the nastiest way. I guess you are feeling a little better.”
I sighed. “A little. Although I doubt Christmas will ever be the same for me again.”
She moved in and gave me a hug. “It’ll never be the same. But it may still, someday, be Ok.”
I hugged her back, quietly. I doubted it.
* * *
Back home, I dressed down to sweats and a t-shirt, torturing myself a little by watching The Little Drummer Boy, Rihanna’s favorite. Life was so fucking unfair. My girls were gone. It was Christmas and I was alone. I’d never, ever, spend another Christmas with Rihanna and Alida. Never.
An hour later I was at Victoria’s back door with three huge garbage bags full of gifts. It had taken me two trips. I knocked softly and a few moments later Victoria let me in. She’d gotten rid of her party clothes as well, answering the door in a plain robe. She looked tired. I guessed that she’d been waiting for me.
“Hannah?” I asked softly.
“Asleep,” she confirmed, taking one of the bags from me.
Quietly we headed to her front room and started spreading out the gifts. On each one, I removed the existing tag and she put a new sticker ‘from Santa’ on it. She asked me what was in each, but I couldn’t remember all of them. Still, I was able to fill her in on the majority. She must have had some plan in mind, because she organized them according to my descriptions of their probable contents, separating them in neat little piles. After about 15 minutes I looked over and saw her shaking her head.
“What?”
“It’s too much.”
“That’s what my ex said every year. I never got a complaint from the girls.”
She gave me a wry smile. “At least one of us is going to have a pretty spectacular Christmas.”
“Isn’t that how it should be?”
I saw her nod, and noticed that her eyes were glistening again. I decided to leave it alone.
Until those moments, I really hadn’t seen Victoria as a woman. I’m related to her as a person in need. But between her dressing up at the party, her comments on my patio, and the way she was dressed in just a robe, I’m almost ashamed to say I was scoping her out.
She was rail thin, with short dark brown hair, almost black. She wasn’t very large on top, but when she was moving around on her hands and knees, arranging presents, I got a few glimpses inside the top of her robe, and saw the swelling of very feminine breasts.
Her legs were as thin as the rest of her, but with decent calf definition. Some of her movements were less than ladylike, and I saw myself peeking up the bottom of her robe, looking at her pale inner thighs, or glancing at her round rear giving form to her robe.
Her face was cute. Small turned up nose, narrow mouth with bowed upper lip, and natural eyebrows fuller than was popular, above big brown eyes. Those eyes were extremely expressive, and somewhat mesmerizing.
I found myself looking at her too often, and she eventually caught me at it.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly. Trying to cover myself I explained. “You just look happier than I’ve seen you until now.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “I guess for once you’re seeing me when I’m not completely pissed-off at you.”
We finished with the gifts and I carefully stood up and gingerly stepped around the pretty wrapped up presents. I turned and held my hand out to Victoria while she did her best to maneuver around them without stepping on any. She almost made it before stumbling at the last minute, kicking a pile over and falling toward me. I caught her and held her up, pulling her backward with me until the wall halted my retreat.
She stared up at me, my arms still wrapped under hers, holding her closer than I intended. Her hair smelled like strawberries.
“I should be furious with you,” she said, leaning into me.
“I know.”
I pulled her upright, but she clung to me, pressing against me.
“We don’t need anybody.” She sounded angry again.
I shrugged, hard to do while holding a fragile woman in my arms. “I don’t have anybody.”
Her look softened. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be Ok.” I closed my eyes, and thought once more of my kids. I could feel myself on the verge of losing it again.
Without warning her lips were on mine, gentle at first. Then I felt her fingers dig into my skin, and she was kissing me fiercely, her teeth pressed hard against my lips. I pulled her tightly against my body, opening my mouth to hers, returning her ardor.
It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. She was clutching at me, kissing me, hugging me, hitting me, scratching me, while I stood there holding her, absorbing it all. I waited for her to calm down, and when she didn’t I reached down and lifted her by the ass, holding her tight, while her legs encircled me. She bit my lip hard, and I could taste blood, while her claws sank into my shoulders.
I could feel the anger and frustration in her, the desire to strike out somehow at the unfairness of it all. I echoed those feelings, accepting them, expanding them, and returning them in kind. Yes, I was angry too. Furious. The taste of my own blood on my lips just served to fuel the fire.
Like everything else, having her vent her anger on me, while I was the only one in the world trying to help her was patently unfair. I was hurting too. I had lost so much more. So very much more. I was tired of being treated like dirt.
Holding her by the rear in one hand, I grasped her hair from behind, pulling her hair back making her gasp. I lowered my mouth to her slender neck and bit her, sucking on her flesh. Both of her hands went to my head, entangling in my hair, and pulling my face down against her. Her hips ground against me, while her bare feet beat a tattoo against my back.
Victoria pulled my head back by the hair, and I loosened my grip on hers. She stared into my eyes, hers flashing with pent up emotions.
“Damn you!” she gasped. She leaned in and pressed her lips against mine again, still fierce and unrelenting.
I turned and pressed her against the wall, trapping her there with my body. My hand lowered and slid into her robe, meeting nothing but bare flesh.
I grabbed her breast and squeezed, causing her to moan into my mouth. Her hands weren’t idle and she was pushing the top of my sweats down, using her feet to push them down in the back. She squeezed a hand between us, her other wrapped around my shoulders, and I felt her fingers wrap around my hardness. It was hard to believe how I was responding to her and her tantrum, but there was no doubt.
I took over, pushing my sweats down, letting them slide down to my ankles, drawing my boxers with them. I was naked from the waist down and exposed. Our lips had never separated, and she sucked hungrily on my tongue, while I tore open her robe, roughly. Like me, she was naked underneath, except for a pair of loose shorts. She had my cock in her hand, and aimed it at her moist opening, pushing the leg of her shorts aside. I lowered her, easing into her, until I was fully sheathed.
She groaned. Her hand now free, she grabbed me by the hair and tugged back, drawing her lips away. “You bastard,” she gasped.
“Bitch,” I growled. I pulled my hips back and thrust into her hard, pushing her into the wall, eliciting another gasp. I felt my own anger welling up inside of me. I knew I wasn’t really angry at her, but she was the unintended victim of my fury. I slammed my cock into her hard, grinding against her. Pulling back, I did it again, even harder, doing my best to push her right through the wall. She gasped as if I’d struck her.
“That’s right, fuck me,” she whispered harshly. “Go ahead, fuck me you prick, like everyone else has.”
I took her ass cheeks in my hands and pulled her away from the wall, lifting her up off my cock, before releasing her, letting her weight impale her on my aching staff. One at a time, I reached my arms under her legs, her thighs resting on my forearms, my hands gripping her ass cheeks tightly.
I tugged her shorts down in back, exposing her soft butt-flesh, and grabbed her cheeks tightly digging my fingers in. She linked her fingers behind my neck, and leaned backward, exposing her upper body to my gaze. Her small breasts had the most perfect little nipples, hardened for me. I fucked her hard and fast, while my strength and fury held out.
As my arms grew tired I walked to the living room. She released each of her arms long enough to let her robe fall, leaving her almost naked. I lowered her, setting her butt down on the arm of the couch. She let go of me, leaning backward, lowering her back to the couch.
Her hips were now positioned well above her body, and I pulled her toward me hard, so her lower back was on the couch arm. I yanked her shorts off and threw them to the side, staring down at her sexy naked body. I opened her legs wide, slid my cock into her warm hole and pounded into her, fucking up into her tight opening,
while she moaned so damn sexily. Holding her legs in my hands and lifting them high and wide, she was effectively immobilized by her own weight resting on her shoulders. I slid my cock in and out of her, banging away, free to do as I please.
She lay there, staring up at me, her eyes burning. I didn’t want to look into those condemning orbs. I pulled out, roughly turned her over, her smooth soft ass raised up by the arm of the couch. I spread her legs and pierced her again, thrusting deeply on the first stroke, making her pay. I held her hips tightly and vented my feeling through my hips, hammering away viciously, fucking her as hard as I could.
Looking between us, I was hypnotized by the sight of my thickness stretching her, filling her. With each stroke her flesh clung to me, stretching outward before yielding. I pulled out to the edge, spread her cheeks with my hands and toyed with her pink little slit, nudging my cock head into her, watching her opening stretch obscenely wide to take me.
I slowed, squeezing her poor ass cheeks hard while slowly feeding her my cock. The incredible feeling was overcoming my ire, and I just enjoyed long-stroking her, making her feel every inch of my length, pushing deeply until I felt resistance deep inside of her.
I couldn’t take much more. I grabbed her hips and leaned over her, driving into her, filling her. I could feel her moist channel grasping at me, dragging me to the edge of desire. I looked down and saw she’d twisted her torso to look back at me.
“Do it.”
I slammed my full weight into her, unable to resist the urge any longer. Gasping, I came inside of her, the release painful in its urgency, exploding deep within her over and over again. Her legs were flailing, and as I slowed she relaxed, bent over the arm like a rag doll, lifeless.