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This is a
work of fiction, loosely based on the character "John Biebe"
as portrayed by Russell Crowe in the film "Mystery, Alaska" I do not own the copyright on that character, but only on the premise of this story.
This story is
for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit ©2002 by WILDBEARIES "The Gift" |
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Chapter Thirteen Lola came flying down the driveway, barking like mad. She leaped and frolicked alongside the SUV as John carefully avoided running over the excited dog. When he got out, he spoke firmly to her, causing her to sit with a hang-dog expression for all of ten seconds. “You’re just incorrigible,” he told her, laughing. The front door opened as he hit the bottom step and he looked up, grinning, “Hello, sweetheart.” Sarah, six months pregnant, stood grinning back at him. It was the day before Christmas a year later, and they were five months married. “Ain’t gonna be no shotgun wedding for me,” Sarah had teased him, but it could have been, given that she was in the family way when they exchanged their vows in front of Judge Burns. “Hello yourself,” she called down, “Get yourself in here, I’ve been baking Christmas cookies.” John whooped and galloped up the steps. He loved when she baked cookies, the whole house smelled of cinnamon, vanilla and sweet icings. It was paradise - or as close to it as he was likely to get. Just being married to Sarah was paradise. He would not have believed he could be so happy, after Donna had torn his heart out by leaving with the boys. Now, she was married again herself, and she had sent the boys up for four weeks during the summer, so it looked like she was mellowing about that as well. He hugged Sarah, patting her belly as he kissed her warmly. “Mmm, cute tummy ya got there, wife - now, what kinda cookies did you say you made?” Sarah poked him in his own tummy, giggling, “Johnny - which is it you love most - me or the fucking cookies?” She took his muffler and gloves while he shrugged out of his heavy coat and hung it on the hall tree. She stuffed the soft knitted items in his coat pockets so he wouldn’t lose them. He caught her up in another hug, this one much nicer because he’d shed the layers of insulating clothing. “I love fucking you and eating cookies - how about that?” “At the same time?” she asked, slipping a hand through the placket of his shirt and thermal underwear so she could touch his skin. She tickled him. “If you keep doing that,” John murmured into her hair, “the answer will be a resounding ‘yes’.” “Okay,” she said, stepping back to take his hand, “come into my kingdom of Christmas delights, young man, and see what tickles your fancy.” John followed her, inhaling the scent of freshly baked treats. “I’d like to tickle your fancy,” he teased her, laughing when she pretended to swat him. “Here,” she held out a plate of snickerdoodles, “have some of these - just out of the oven five minutes ago.” John sat down and began munching while she poured him a big glass of ice cold milk to go with the cookies. “Tree is coming over with his lady friend in about an hour, and the Winetka’s called to cancel - they’re off on some wild goose chase in Brightfish Bay - something about a vintage Jeep they’ve just got to have.” “So there’ll be four for supper?” John crunched his second cookie and sipped the milk. “Yeah,” Sarah glanced into the oven, “the ham is basically done - and the turkey for tomorrow is ready to go in the oven, so I’ve just got to finish the casseroles.” She checked her baking dishes that held green bean casserole and candied sweet potatoes, then shoved them into the oven. “Johnny, lift this ham out for me, would you?” He obliged, setting the baking pan on a hot pad while she checked on her cranberry salad mold in the fridge. “I’m a lucky man,” he told her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, “You certainly are,” she agreed, shutting the door. “Now, we have about 45 minutes by my calculations - what do you want to do to pass the time?” John grinned like a naughty little boy, grabbed her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. “Do you even have to ask?” he purred, already divesting her of her clothes. He pulled her sweater up and off over her head, unhooked her bra and immediately caught her breasts in his hands, fondling and kissing them appreciatively. “I love that you’re so soft here,” he murmured, nuzzling her. Sarah, melting under his caresses, was unbuttoning his clothes at the same time. She unbuckled his belt and yanked his zipper down, delving inside to catch hold of his cock - already hard for her. “And I love that you’re so hard here.” She stroked that hardness appreciatively. “God, Sarah,” he muttered, pushing her back onto the bed and kicking off his boots. His jeans followed, and he bent over her, smiling down into her pretty blue eyes. “I love you, did I tell you that today?” She smiled up, nodding, “You may have mentioned that, yes.” She wrapped a hand in his long locks and pulled him down for another breath-stealing kiss. “Why don’t you come all the way down here, fella, and give me that big hard cock you’ve got for me?” “In a minute,” he promised, stopping to kiss the mound of her belly first. He laid his cheek against it as if listening to the little life growing inside her. “He says not to bounce him around too much, he’s trying to sleep.” “Hmmf,” Sarah pretended disgust, “She says she’s wide awake, thank you, and if you don’t hurry up she’s going to get fussy.” They chuckled at each other’s mock insistence on the gender of their child. They could find out the sex any time, but hadn’t decided if they wanted to be surprised or not. They were decorating the boys’ former bedroom as a nursery, but so far had only used soft green and yellow in it, with little woodland animals - bunnies, deer, bears - as a motif. “I wouldn’t want my girls to be fussy,” John answered, and moved between her welcoming thighs. Sinking into her liquid warmth, he groaned in delighted pleasure. “God - so good!” He began sliding in and out, working her in slow, tantalizing strokes that had her gasping and crying out surprisingly quickly. One thing about Sarah pregnant - she was even more responsive and passionate than before, which was saying something. He held still deep inside her as her whole body contracted around him with a strong climax. “That’s it,” he whispered encouragingly, “come for me, Sarah.” When the spasms slowed, he began moving again, more deeply and urgently. “Fuck me,” Sarah urged him, digging her fingers into his muscular backside to spur him on. “Yes - fuck me hard, lover - fuck me hard.” John lost it at that point, unable to resist her. He groaned harshly and began filling her with his cum, boiling hot and plentiful, quivering over her until he finished. “Oh, God,” he gasped, and collapsed over her, rolling to the side so he didn’t crush her. He stayed inside her, holding her close against him until they both stopped trembling. “Jeeze, you undo me every time,” he told her. Sarah smiled, proud of herself. “I know.” “Smug,” he teased her. “I have a lot to be smug about, John. After all, look who I landed in my bed?” She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart as it slowed and calmed. “Harrumph,” John commented, “I’m nothing special.” “No,
but you’re all mine,” she teased back. They giggled together for
a bit until they realized they had only a few minutes before
their dinner guests arrived. John flew out of bed, pulling her
up after him, and they got dressed in record time, finishing
just as Lola barked at Tree’s SUV. Sarah, of course, had thought she should at least introduce Diane to Tree, and they had started going out almost at once. That had been just before Thanksgiving. Now they were obviously a couple, and Sarah thought it would be perfect if they got really serious about it. “Am I interfering?” she had asked John. He had been almost asleep when she asked, but came awake enough to tell her that she was, but in a nice way. “After all, isn’t it your duty as a happily married woman to see to it that some other guy finds his mate?” She had nodded, “Yes - it’s in our contract as married women, didn’t you know?” “I suspected it,” he mumbled, sliding back toward dreamland. Now, he let Tree and Diane in and took their coats to hang up in the closet. “Sarah’s in the kitchen,” he said, but they were already moving in that direction, Tree carrying a large covered cake plate and Diane toting two casserole dishes in baskets. John shrugged to the dog, who wagged her tail at him, and followed them all into the kitchen. They all perched on stools or leaned against the counters as dinner was finished. “It’s buffet style,” Sarah announced, setting out Christmas paper platters, red and green Lucite knives and forks, and plenty of Christmas motif paper napkins. “I’m using the good dishes,” she joked, “less washing up that way.” She and Diane removed the covers from the casseroles while John placed slices of the honey roasted ham onto one of the platters. “Okay,” Sarah said, “help yourselves, we’re eating in front of the tree in the den.” Everyone filled his or her plate and trooped into the den where she had set up a small folding table, covered it with bright Christmas tablecloths, and set out coffee cups, a freshly brewed pot of coffee, hot water for tea, and a big pitcher of iced tea as well. “There’s beer for you guys, if you want that instead,” she added. It was a great dinner, everyone agreed. Tree and Diane seemed very much attuned to one another, which pleased Sarah. John teased her later about fulfilling her contractual obligations, earning another mock swat for his pains. “Careful,” he warned her, “that’s spousal abuse.” “I’ll show you spousal abuse!” she shot back, and proceeded to attack him with tickling and kisses until he hollered “Uncle!” “The heck with Uncle,” she informed him, “I intend to have my way with you, Sheriff Biebe.” “Mercy!” he begged. Luckily, she didn’t give him any mercy until much later. Lying in their big bed in the dark of early Christmas morning, John held her close to his heart, kissing her silky hair. “Sure was a lucky day when I found you.” “It was, you’re right. Just think, if you hadn’t come to chase that bear out of my dumpster, we might not be in this bed right now.” He nodded, “I’d have missed falling down that ravine and busting my ass, missed the helicopter rides, missed out on a whole lot of good fucking.” “Mmm,” Sarah agreed sleepily. She yawned and snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I have a gift for you tomorrow that is kind of apropos of that.” “You do? What is it?” She poked him in the ribs with one finger, “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise, now will it?” She had gotten him a new insulated coat and snow pants. Not that he hunted that much, but he could also wear them while he worked if the weather was really cold. “I suppose not,” he allowed. “I have something special for you, too.” He had an antique baby’s dresser sitting in the shed outside, wrapped in quilts for protection, the shed door locked with a padlock he had told her he’d “lost” the key for the other day so she wouldn’t snoop and find it. He also had gotten her some very sexy lingerie that would no doubt show off her incredible bosom outrageously. “That’s nice,” Sarah murmured, almost asleep. “But you know,” he said next, jogging her shoulder a bit to make sure she was awake, “the best gift of all is you, Sarah.” She raised her head, her blue eyes glistening in the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside the bedroom windows. “John, that’s so sweet. I feel the same way.” “I love getting gifts,” he told her, “especially when they’re as sexy as you.” “Shut up and kiss me,” she ordered, sleep temporarily forgotten. “Why, Sarah,” John teased her, “and you a mother-to-be!” “How do you think I got this way?” she wanted to know, effectively silencing him with her hands on his body. Much later, they slept cozily in their warm bed, Lola curled at the foot, while outside, soft snow flakes fluttered lazily down, blanketing their whole world in white.
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Graphics
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Wildbearies |
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