New Year's Names - Sex Stories

New Year's Names

... loosening cloths, caressing and squeezing. She had a kind of unfair head start, but I managed to free Merry and Pippin from bondage (aka bra) and my hands were having a lovely time exploring under her sweater. She got around to unzipping my jeans and her hand was making it's way... CRASH! CRASH! BANG! Oh oh. We reluctantly got up to investigate. Well one crash bang was the teakettle. Unbreakable, but both kittens looked at us with such affront as they licked the water off their coats. We couldn't help but laugh at the two soggy kitties. "I think were gonna have to teach them to stay off the stove." "I think they just taught themselves." The other crash was the cannabis plant: an interesting mix of mud and pottery shards all over the kitchen floor. I got the broom and mop again while Chris picked up the pieces of flowerpot. "How come you have a pot plant? You told me you hadn't smoked since college." "It was Cleo's. She left it when she moved out, and I just kept watering it." "Oh. Maybe I better take my brat back to my apartment now." "No. Why don't you leave her here. That way after the party, you could just come over. I mean if you wanted to spend the night or anything." "I'd love to spend the night and lots of things. But are you sure your apartment can take the Terrible Duo here?" "Oh, they're fine. So far they've only broken Cleo's things, and it's a good way for me to get rid of the reminders." "OK. If you can stand the damage. I guess I'd better go change. I'll see ...

... you in a couple of minutes." I watched her go with regret. Merry and Pippin, freed from their bra, were bobbing so appealingly under her sweater. But then I remembered that Chris had agreed to spend the night, and I started humming under my breath. I finished washing the kitchen floor and then headed into the bedroom to change. Normally, my idea of dressing up consisted of putting on a pair of jeans that didn't have holes and a solid colored flannel shirt. You know: an orange one for Halloween, a brown one for Thanksgiving, and a red one for Christmas. It was one of the things that drove Cleo crazy. Maybe showing up for Thanksgiving dinner in a flannel shirt and jeans for a black tie affair at her parents swanky Fifth Ave condo was a bit tacky, but the more she bugged me about dressing up, the more stuff she bought me, the more I dug in and wore my oldest, holiest jeans. At least I had bought brand new jeans for Thanksgiving, but she didn't appreciate that. That was the argument that ended in her moving out. The one thing I did get rid of when she left was all of the clothes she bought me. Chris had never said anything about how I dressed except to say she liked the feel of flannel. Hummm, maybe I should wear my light gray flannel New Years Eve shirt after all. No, I had bought an outfit for the party, and I was gonna wear it. It was a heavy silk with a kind of rough weave in an off white. The shirt was high necked and came down to my knees. The pants were straight legged. It ...