It's not easy being Jewish in December. Everywhere you look, there are Santas
and Christmas trees. Everything is red and green, except for those damned
silver bells. Oh sure, maybe you'll see a tiny little menorah in a store
window, but let's face it, how can you expect people to respect a holiday they
can't even spell?
So here I was, putting up my Chanukah decorations listening to Christmas music
on the radio, with the occasional gratuitous playing of Adam Sandler's Chanukah
song—and wondering what I was going to do this year. Because this year was
different. This year, I was celebrating Chanukah with my Ratboy.
Now, Ratboy has this ridiculous idea that he's half-Jewish, but if you look at
that sweet little nose of his, you would doubt it as much as I do. It didn't
really matter much what he was. These were the holidays and I decided he was
damned well going to celebrate something. Even Kwanzaa. There was one
teeny-tiny glitch in my plan though a present.
What do you get for the assassin who has everything?
I pondered this as I hung up the paper dreidels. Maybe I should have thought
about Thanksgiving and what a disaster that had been, but no, the radio was
playing songs of holiday cheer and for once, Ellen Feldman was in the Christmas
spirit.
One other little thing I should mention at this point. Well, it's a
six-foot-one thing. Fox Mulder. My Foxboy. My back lawn. He's another one
who hates the holidays. I decided, as I sang along with "Frosty the Snowman,"
that Mulder was going to have some holiday cheer, too.
Which meant I had to figure out another special gift.
Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I should go find a nice, Jewish doctor.
Yeah, right.
"You're making a face."
"I am not making a face, Feldman."
"Yes, you are."
"Do you really need so many of them?" Ratboy gestured to the Chanukah
decorations in the living room. "I mean, I get the point. You're Jewish."
"That is so not the point, Ratboy—"
"Alex. My name is Alex."
"Whatever. The point is, it looks festive."
"Oh. Okay." And that was that. Except it wasn't.
"We can have a tree, if you want," I ventured.
Those marvelous lips of his quirked into a smile that didn't quite reach his
eyes. "It'd clash with your Semitic theme."
"If you want one—"
"No."
"Are you sure," I wheedled. I knew he wanted one. For somebody who spent the
better part of his life using aliases and hiding, my Ratboy wanted to be a
normal couple. As if. "It might look nice in that corner over there.
Wouldn't you like to decorate a tree with me?"
He leered at me. "I know a bush I'd like to decorate."
"Ratboy!"
A weary sigh. "Alex. When the hell are you going to learn to call me Alex?"
When was he going to realize he was my Ratboy? "I'm sorry, Alyosha."
"C'mere."
Just like Gomez getting horny when Tish spoke French, Ratboy loved hearing his
pet name in Russian. "Not until you admit you want a tree."
"I don't. I want a Feldman. Now."
There are times to argue about trees and times when you let a man do things
with his tongue. I decided we could let the tree go for a while. After all,
there were ten shopping days until Christmas.
Ten shopping days pass pretty fast, let me tell you. Especially if you have to
buy presents for two of the most impossible people on the planet. Luckily, I
didn't have to sneak around. Our boss, the man with the cigarettes, had some
sort of score that had to be settled in time to ruin somebody's Christmas.
Ratboy didn't tell me much more about it and, frankly, it sounded like a real
downer. Definitely not in keeping with the season, so I didn't press for
details.
Speaking of the smoker, I didn't really know much about him, other than he
smoked Morleys, already had a gold lighter and liked scotch. Giving booze on
the holidays always seemed tacky to me, so I got him a 'World's Greatest Boss'
mug. The look on his face more than made up for the $5.99 and the long line
at the card store. Ratboy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table when
he saw the mug and gave me a long lecture afterwards that I ignored. After
all, Christmas is about the joy of giving, isn't it?
So here it was, almost nine o'clock on Christmas eve, and my Ratboy was on a
flight home from wherever he was. He called from the airport to tell me he
would be home in an hour. Too bad I wasn't going to be here when he got in.
Santa's little helper was making her first stop at Mulder's apartment.
Just so he wouldn't sulk, I taped a condom to Ratboy's Christmas party
invitation with instructions to come to Mulder's place ASAP for a very special
present.
Like I said, it's about giving. And I was about to give these two pretty boys
a Christmas to remember.
Pathetic. How else do you describe a man who spends Christmas eve watching a
porno flick while reading case files? His partner, the shiksa, was home with
her family, singing carols and whatever else they did. I'm sure she invited
him, but, reallythat's not his scene.
I debated picking the lock just to see if he was watching the video, reading
the file and spanking the monkey, but did I really want to see that? Not
tonight. So I plastered a smile on my face and knocked on the door. "Mulder?
It's me. Feldman."
I pressed my ear against the door again, heard him shut the TV and unlock the
door. "What brings you here?"
"What usually brings me here?"
He smiled wryly. "Ratboy needs to be rescued, you need a favor or you feel
like messing up my bed."
Damn. He was right. "I could leave."
"But you won't." Mulder's eyes wandered over the burgundy stretch velvet dress
I was wearing. "Let me guess, you brought me a Christmas present."
"As a matter of fact I did." Smart boy.
"And it's under that dress."
Now why didn't I think of that? "Let me in and you'll find out."
"Come in." He stepped aside and watched me make a beeline for his VCR.
I clucked disapprovingly at the title of his video. "Busty the Vampire Layer?
Tacky."
Mulder snatched it from my hand and shoved it back into the VCR.
"How can you watch that and read case files," I asked, flipping through the
file that lay open on his couch. Nope. Nothing was sticky, so I guess he
really did use those movies as background noise.
"Would you stop snooping," Mulder scolded, swatting me on the butt with the
file folder. "I don't come to your place and search—"
"That's because you don't know how to draft a warrant."
"You know," he began. And then he shook his head. "I've got a better idea."
Oh yes. Yesyesyes. The big jerk leaned down and shut me up with a nice,
hungry kiss, the kind you feel for days afterwards. I took my time and I
played with his lower lip, which is a thing of beauty and a joy to behold.
It's even better to suck on, let me tell you.
I wish I timed it but I can tell you that even though we were still dressed
when we finished locking lips, that was one hell of a kiss.
"Hold still, I'm gonna unwrap you," Mulder murmured.
Much as I hated myself for doing it, I slapped his hands away. "Down, big
fella. Your present is something else entirely."
He looked like I'd drawn a gun on him. I've done that before, so I know what
that looks like. "Feldman."
"Hold on..." I rummaged in the over-sized leather back-pack I brought with me
and pulled out two packages wrapped in shiny red paper.
Mulder eyed them suspiciously. "They're not gonna explode, are they?"
"Don't be a putz, Mulder. Why would I want to ruin this dress?"
"Sorry, Feldman. What was I thinking?" He shook his head with a weary sigh.
"Let me guess, the small one is cologne and the flat one is a tie."
How wrong he was. I stamped my three-inch spike on his wooden floor and gave
him a classic Feldman pout. "Would you open it already?"
Sighing, he tore open the 'cologne'. "What the—baby oil?"
"Not baby oil, exactly. That's a very fine British import. I thought a nice,
erotic massage might make a lovely present for my Foxboy." Which was true. Of
course there was more to it. I never tell Mulder everything.
"If this one's a cockstrap," he muttered, tearing open the flat package.
"Feldman! A big, red bow? What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that once you're all oiled and yummy looking, I'd wrap you up
as a present to myself." I licked my lips for emphasis. "Think of it as the
gift that keeps giving."
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
Once upon a time, Ellen Janine Feldman was a girl scout. Which explains why I
was carrying a big beach towel in my backpack. I spread it on Mulder's bed
with a flourish.
"Get naked and get comfortable, Foxboy."
"Mulder. My name is Mulder."
"Whatever. Just take off those ugly sweats."
I had to give him credit, he stripped fast and there was a nice surprise
bobbing happily in my direction. Mulder looked more than a little
self-conscious. "How do you want me?"
Any way I could get him. "What?"
"You want me to lie on my stomach? On my back?"
"This is your erotic massage, honey," I cooed. "How do you want it?"
There was a half-second hesitation and he flopped down on his back, with his
cock sticking straight up in the air. The angle of the light fixture cast a
shadow and suddenly I was thinking about sundials. I almost giggled. Almost.
Instead, I opened the bottle of oil and inhaled its delicious, masculine scent.
One of the things they teach you in law school is research. And now that I'm a
lawyer, I use that skill a lot. I spent days researching how to give the
perfect erotic massage. I decided to start with his legs.
"Don't you think you should take off your dress, Feldman?" He sat up suddenly.
"I mean, you don't want to ruin it."
True. I set the bottle down and shimmied out of my dress, folding it neatly
and setting it on his dresser.
"Those panties should probably come off, too. They look expensive."
Somebody wanted me naked.
"C'mere and I'll help you take them off."
Tempting. But it was too soon to give in to that temptation. "I can do it
myself. Lie back and think relaxing erotic thoughts."
"Relaxing erotic thoughts?"
"The massage is supposed to relax and excite you," I murmured, pouring some of
the oil into my hands and reaching for his right ankle. "I'd like to see what
you look like when you're relaxed."
"How can I relax if I'm horny?"
"Mulder!"
He groaned as I kneaded his right calf. Mulder runs, so he's got this
wonderfully athletic build. Beautifully defined legs, nice shoulders and a
tight ass—too tight sometimes. I've always wanted to spend time with his
legs, getting to know each curve of muscle, but usually we were too busy
fucking like minks.
I could feel him start to relax his leg. His breathing slowed, grew deeper but
quickened again as I moved to his knee. As I sat there, working the muscles
and the pressure points, I found myself contemplating his chest. No, it wasn't
broad like my Ratboy's, but it was nice. And I had a sudden urge to lick my
way across it.
Mulder's eyes flew open when the weight on the bed shifted and he smiled as I
moved up his body. When my tongue touched his chest, he sighed.
Suddenly he grabbed me and pulled me up so that I was lying on top of him. Not
a bad place to be, either. "Something's come between us, Mulder."
"Maybe you could relax it with an erotic massage."
"Patience," I intoned.
"I'm not a patient man. I'm a horny man who hasn't gotten any since before
Thanksgiving."
"I was busy!"
"Spare me the details, Feldman." His hand wandered to my ass, stroking
lightly. "Why don't we compromise? You can tease the hell out of me after a
quick, desperation fuck."
"Wouldn't you rather wait?"
Mulder demonstrated the advantages of being so tall and having long fingers.
He slipped one inside of me. There's an art to manually stimulating a woman.
Some men never get it. I was lucky enough to have two men who could drive me
wild with a finger and a few kind words.
"Mulder"
"Come on," he murmured, in silky tones that got me even wetter than the finger
that was mercilessly teasing my G-spot. "Get on top me."
"N-n—ohhhhhhhh.."
"I could get on top of you." His voice dropped even lower. "But I want to
watch you."
I wanted to wait. No, I didn't. Yes, I did. What to do, what to do.
And then he took his finger out.
I groaned in frustration.
"You want more? I've got something bigger and thicker to put in there." There
was a distinct leer in his voice. "Something nice and hard. All you have to
do is say the word."
"Mul-derrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
"Yes or no, Feldman?"
"Can't you wait?" Please say yesplease
"Can you?"
I forced myself to look at the bedside clock. Was there enough time? If we
were quick No. I wanted to be thorough. I wanted him to glisten. To look
as hot as possible. Because my Ratboy was coming soon.
"Yes," I lied, through clenched teeth. "Yes, I can wait."
Mulder groaned in frustration and thrust two fingers into me. "You sure you
can wait?"
I writhed in pleasure as those fingers stroked in and out, working my G-spot
just the right way. Christ, I could smell myself, feel myself dripping onto
Mulder. And I could feel his cock pressing insistently into my stomach.
"A quickie," he urged. "After that, you can oil me to your heart's content."
Sounded reasonable to me.
Part Two
Ever see one of those beefcake calendars? Those unbelievably hot men, peering
at you with sex in their eyes while their beautifully toned bodies glisten from
oil that some lucky bitch (or bastard, if you want to be correct) got to apply
judiciously?
Those models had nothing on my Foxboy.
I had to admit that fast, desperate roll in the sheets did wonders for him.
His hair didn't just look mussed, it was sex-mussed—tousled from my hands
hanging on for dear life, naturally. And his eyes.God, those glorious hazel
eyes, had more than a hint of mossy green. His delicious lips were swollen
from me kissing them mercilessly. Yeah, Mulder had that 'I've just been
fucked but good' look to him. And I swear the oil made him glow.
"You gonna gift wrap me yet," he asked, mischievously.
I eyed the glistening, stiff cock that was aimed at me and I wondered if a
little red bow would ruin its appeal. "Mmmm-hhmmm."
"Go ahead, Feldman. The sooner you do, the sooner I can smear some of this
stuff on you."
"Not yet, my Foxlet. I want to enjoy my Mulder-sculpture. Follow me." I
crooked a finger at him and led him back into his living room, pausing only to
capture an arm chair from the kitchen. Another dive into my carefully packed
bag and I held up a smaller towel, which I spread on the cushion of the chair.
"Sit."
"You gonna tie me up?"
"All the better to suck you, my dear."
Mulder sat quickly, resting his arms on the armrests. He spread his legs so
that I could easily tie him to the legs of the chair.
"And I'm going to use bright red ribbon to make you extra festive," I cooed,
pulling the roll and scissors out of my bag. "You're going to look so
delicious."
"Less talking. More sucking."
"Shhh." His cock was so hard that it was pressing against his stomach and the
tip glistened with something that most definitely wasn't oil. I licked it
away, savoring his moan. And then I tied him up. "You look so pretty like
that, Mulder. Makes me wish I was Christian, so I could appreciate this more."
"You're appreciating it just fine, Feldpup" Mulder let his head loll back.
"Wasn't there one that you wanted to tie around my neck?"
"I was saving the best for last," I murmured, reaching for the soft, velvet
bow. Before I tied it on, I traced small circles on his throat with my tongue
and licked along his jugular, enjoying the little sounds he made and the way
his fingers twitched as he struggled against the ribbon he was tied with.
Finally, I put the ribbon on him and stepped back to examine my present.
"Goddamn."
"You're a very, very twisted little girl," he rasped. "Must be Ratboy's
influence."
"When the hell are you people going to learn to call me Al—holy shit!" My
Ratboy's mouth hung open as he froze in Mulder's doorway, the lock pick
dangling from his fingers. "F-Feldman? Is that for me?"
"No," Mulder said, quickly. "Feldman, untie me! Untie me right now!"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Give it a rest, Foxboy. I know all about what the
two of you have been up to. You think I don't know where he's been when he
comes home black and blue with that freshly fucked look?"
Both men looked stunned.
"Besides, Ratboy mumbles in his sleep."
"Alex," he corrected me, licking his lips. "So, what are you doing with
Mulder?"
"Mulder's mine, but I might be inclined to share if you're a good boy and open
your presents. Gonna be good for me?"
Lashes that were too long and thick for a man fluttered in surprise. "I've
been a naughty boy this year, Feldman."
"I know, sweetie," I purred, rummaging once more in my back-pack. Ahh, there
they were. Green gift-wrapped packages that were identical to Mulder's. The
only thing that set them apart was color. I decided Ratboy should have green
because it would match his pretty green eyes. My mother taught me the
importance of wearing clothes that bring out your best features.
Mulder made a small sound when he saw the packages, but I shot a quelling stare
in his direction and he busied himself with looking miserable. Too bad the
cock riding high on his belly was giving his true feelings away.
My Ratboy looked at the packages and then wistfully at the man tied to the
chair with shiny red ribbon. "Open them for me, kitten."
To accentuate his point, he flexed his prosthetic fingers.
I knocked lightly on the artificial limb, watching with just a tiny hint of
evil glee as his head whipped from Mulder's direction to mine.
"Pay attention, Ratboy."
"Alex." He shifted from one foot to the other, his mind on the beribboned man
tied to the chair. "C'mon, c'mon."
"Which one would you like me to open first?"
"Who cares? I want the big shiny one with the red ribbon and the stiff cock."
"Ratboy!"
"Alex," he muttered, "my name is Alex. Open the cologne."
Mulder snickered softly as I tore the wrapping.
Ratboy inhaled sharply when he saw his bottle of oil. "Kitten"
I ripped open the other package and waved the green velvet ribbon under his
nose.
"Oh, kitten," Ratboy purred, dropping to his knees. "Luuuuuuuubrrrriiiicate
me."
This time, Mulder and I gasped in unison.
For a one-armed man, Ratboy can move with lightning-speed. He was out of his
clothes in seconds, sporting a hard-on that made me think of the Chrysler
Building because it was tall, shiny and beautiful, in an art-deco sort of way.
"Don't just stand there, Feldman," Mulder croaked. "Oil him up. Now."
My Foxboy never ceased to surprise me. Or my Ratboy, if that look on his face
was any indication. I delved into the back pack and spread a green towel on
the floor. "C'mere, Ratboy."
"Alex." But he knelt on the towel like a good little Ratboy, his art-deco
erection rising higher with each passing second.
This time, I was the one who wanted the desperation fuck and I wanted it bad.
You have no idea how much willpower it took to remind myself we'd all be
tangled in a heap on the floor very, very soon and that I could probably wait.
Probably.
I decided to start with my Ratboy's shoulders. Like I mentioned earlier,
where Mulder is slender and athletic, Ratboy is broader and more muscular.
Except, of course, for the prosthesis. Sometimes, when I looked at him, I felt
a flash of what people must have felt when the Venus de Milo was originally
defaced.
Gently, I undid the straps and buckles that held the prosthetic arm in place,
taking care to lick, kiss and suck my way down his poor arm, just in case he
was feeling self-conscious about his appearance.
He hooked his good arm around my waist and pulled me to him for a kiss. Not
to compare apples and oranges, but unlike Mulder, Ratboy can make a simple kiss
feel like you just had sex. Seriously. The next thing I knew, I was
straddling his thigh and rubbing myself shamelessly.
I caught Mulder's eye and saw him watching us with a rapt stare. "Better than
that stupid movie you were watching, isn't it?"
Mulder nodded wordlessly.
"I love an audience," Ratboy husked, flipping me onto my back. I suppose I
should have stopped him so I could get him shiny, but he was going to use that
tongue of his to do wonderful things to me. While Mulder watched. And for
some reason, that got me even wetter than usual.
I gasped as he ran his tongue lightly over that spot on my clit. He did it
again and I arched upwards, making sounds that I won't describe because that
would make this story even more pornographic than it is.
Normally, I like to keep my eyes closed when Mulder or Ratboy goes down on me.
It has to do with concentrating on the wonderful sensations and not the thick
head of hair moving between my legs. This time was different. This time, I
was watching Mulder watch us. And getting off on it like you wouldn't
believe.
After a few minutes, I was screaming loud enough to crack the paint. And
that's when my Ratboy stopped, sighed and looked at me wistfully. "My name is
still Alex, kitten."
"I like it when she calls you Ratboy," Mulder rasped, his face as rosy as the
tip of his cock, which was leaking like Watergate.
"Just so long as you don't do it when I'm fucking you, Mulder," my Ratboy
growled, reaching for his leather jacket. He fished out the condom I'd left
him earlier, smirking as he tore the wrapper and saw that it was a festive
shade of green. "You get a red one for Foxboy?"
"Mulder. My name is Mulder," the bound man sighed.
I didn't care what they called themselves. I just wanted them looking like
the beefcake they were, and who cared if they weren't Kosher?
Ratboy slid into me with a hiss of satisfaction and I could hear Mulder moan
along with me. It was good. It was better than good. This was amazing sex
and it was the second time tonight. And we hadn't even untied Mulder yet.
"Feldman? Kitten?" Ratboy nudged my shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Good. I'm ready for you to oil me up now."
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh."
"C'mon, kitten."
The small bottle was pressed into my hand.
"Nice going, Ratboy," Mulder complained. "You wore her out."
"I'm just resting," I croaked. "I need a minute. And some water."
"Fresh bottle in the fridge. Hurry up, Ratboy! Get the girl some water." I
was surprised Mulder wasn't barking like a drill sergeant. "Move!"
I could get used to being this. Two pretty boyz waiting on me, hand and foot,
available for sex at my beck and call
"Drink," Ratboy commanded, putting the cold bottle on my left tit.
I yelped and the fantasy changed to me being the mistress, disciplining each of
them when they got out of hand.
It was enough to give me my strength back. "Okay, my Ratboy, let's show Foxboy
what a pretty, pretty boy you are."
Ratboy positively preened at the compliment. He got back onto his knees and
eyed me expectantly. "My name is still Alex."
"Whatever." I uncapped the bottle and worked the muscles in his shoulders and
neck, feeling him relax under my touch. "That's a good Ratboy. Such a pretty,
pretty Ratboy."
"You didn't tell me I was pretty," Mulder sulked.
Don't look, I warned myself. Don't look at that pout. But I did. "Ohhhh,
Mulder, of course you're pretty. You're my pretty Foxboy."
Ratboy snickered softly.
Didn't they realize how obvious it was that they wanted each other as badly as
they wanted me, if not more?
My fingers worked their way down Ratboy's spine. Both Mulder and I watched
with delight as he wriggled and moaned at my touch. Finally, I reached pay
dirt. The crack of Ratboy's luscious ass.
Mulder's mouth was agape as I slicked my fingers with the massage oil. Slowly,
carefully, I slid a finger inside of my Ratboy. The result was an erection as
glorious as the one before.
I wasted no time in putting a green ribbon on it.
Ratboy groaned in frustration as I started oiling his legs.
"Shh, baby, I'm not finished making you all slick," I purred, emphasizing the
last word.
"Hurry up," Mulder urged. "He's dripping."
"So are you," Ratboy pointed out.
"This is supposed to be an erotic massage ——"
"It is," Ratboy interrupted. "Very. Get my chest and let's untie Mulder."
As much as I wanted to do that, I wanted this to be perfect. "Don't you want
to look as beautiful and shiny as Mulder?"
My Ratboy sighed. "Oh, all right."
I reached into my backpack and found something to keep him occupied. "Here.
Play with this."
"A dreidel?!"
"Yes. You have a problem with that?!"
"Uhno." He spun it wistfully. "It landed on the 'gimel' if I get a 'chai'
will you finish me up and untie Mulder?"
Actually, I was getting off on watching a somewhat shiny, naked Ratboy sitting
on his haunches, spinning a small blue dreidel. So I reached into my back
pack again and retrieved my Polaroid.
Thankfully, Ratboy is an exhibitionist. He shifted position, spread his legs
wide and spun the dreidel between them with a huge leer, while Mulder groaned
in a combination of frustration and embarrassment.
So I took his picture, too.
Mission accomplished, I got back to polishing my Ratboy, who sighed happily
when my fingers worked their way across his chest. I stopped only to attack
his right nipple, eliciting happy sounds from both men. And then, Ratboy was
finished. All that remained was to tie the pretty ribbon around his neck.
I wiped my hands on the towel and reached for the ribbon. "C'mere, Ratboy."
His green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Alex. If you say my name, you can put
the ribbon on me."
"Get over there and let her put the goddamned ribbon on you, Ratboy," Mulder
growled.
"My name," Ratboy sniffed, "is Alex."
"Here, pretty-pretty Sasha," I cooed, soothing that wounded Ratboy ego. "Come
to Ellen and let her put the nice ribbon on you."
He sighed happily and tilted his head back, baring his throat.
I licked my way along and then tied the ribbon on him, taking great pains not
to mention the hickey that was there. That I didn't put there.
Mulder, on the other hand, wasn't as discreet. "Somebody's been naughty,
Feldman. Somebody's got a hickey. And I'll bet anything he didn't get it from
Santa."
Ratboy got up on shaky legs. "Wanna see what I got from Santa, Foxboy?"
"Muldermy name is Mulder."
I stood there, stunned, and prayed that they were going to play nicely with
each other. And would you believe a Jew's prayer got answered on Christmas
Eve? Yes, it did. Ratboy dropped to his knees in front of Mulder and
swallowed Mulder's erection whole.
What technique. What nerve. I was sooooo jealous. After all, I was the one
who did all the work. So I reached for the bottle of oil and slicked my
fingers again. Ratboy didn't even notice me sneak up behind him until I
slipped one of my fingers up him again and used my other hand to grab that
gorgeous eight-inch hard-on that was standing straight up.
Ever hear two men moan with pleasure? At the same time? I have it on tape if
you're curious.
Mulder whined as Ratboy stopped sucking him and started untying him.
I whined, too. "Hey! He looked good like that."
"He'll look even better on his back with me fucking him," Ratboy murmured,
undoing the last ribbon, but leaving the one around Mulder's neck. "You can
take pictures or you can finger me again."
I started to argue, but then I remembered I already fucked Mulder once. It
was Ratboy's turn. And soon, it would be Mulder's turn to do Ratboy. But
what about me? When was it going to be my turn. I had two beautiful shiny
men and they were paying attention to each other. It just wasn't fair!!!
"And when we're done, Feldman," Ratboy leered, "we're going to oil you up."
"I think I've got a blue ribbon around here somewhere," Mulder offered. "For
Chanukah."
I was a Jew who had finally discovered Christmas spirit. It was all about the
good feeling you got from giving to others and appreciating the gifts they gave
you.
I can't wait for Passover.
The End.
It's All
About Giving
by Ms Brooklyn
Part One
