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It also made me wonder how many other mornings I might have missed this exact situation. I watched her for a minute or so, before I couldn’t take it any longer. I reached over her shoulders and slid my hands under the sides of her opened bathrobe and squeezed her soft breasts. Angie gave a quick start as I touched her tits, but kept playing with herself. She was at the point where anything that felt good was a bonus, so I continued massaging her boobs for several minutes, squeezing and kneading them in my hands. I occasionally pulled on her nipples, which resulted in a positive grunt, and before long, she was whining softly at her impending orgasm. Angie’s bare feet kicked and her hips bucked wildly, as she came. I squeezed her tits roughly, and Angie finally spoke. ‘Oh yes!’ she whispered. ‘Squeeze my titties! Oh God, yes!’ Her back arched a final time, and Angie slowly came down from her orgasmic high. The realization of what had just happened, hit her as I released her boobs and. He may have lived, but his wife had passed out drunk at the kitchen table. Fairy Girl found him first when she came inside, covered in a thick winter coat and a light sprinkling of snowflakes. The thing Glinda remembered most these days wasn’t the awkward way he was sprawled out on the floor or the blood on the carpet, but the large, beautiful pine tree in the corner. Daddy bought it at Central Park the day before and had decorated it while she was out. The lights were turned on and the ornaments were colorful and enchanting. All that was missing was the star on top: Glinda put it up every year. That year felt least like Christmas to Glinda because her mother was crying and her father was gone and there wasn’t even a star to top off the tree. Fairy Girl sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the tree, gently touching every glass ball and garland and popcorn kernel as Daddy had left it, waiting all day for one of the holiday miracles she’d always heard about to happen and her.
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