The Christmas Gift

By Willie Cici
published December 26, 2016
Summary

Chris and Rhys wake up Christmas morning in each other’s arm - - only to find what Santa left the night before …

The dawn peeked through the drawn curtains and blinds of the restored farmhouse just outside of Gettysburg. Chris and Rhys lay in each other’s arms. (To see Chris and Rhys, click here). Slowly, as the sunlight intensified, the boys shuffled about the bed.

“Good morning.”, Chris said, in a sleepy, yet sexy tone.

“Merry Christmas.”, Rhys replied. The young lovers kissed. This year, the lovers were spending their first Christmas together, free from the intolerance and disrespect they received from their families. The young lovers had each other. For them, they had the world.

It did not hurt that the young lovers, both of them brilliant mechanical engineers, developed a patent for a product that both boys held in high esteem: motorcycles. Living in the Greater Gettysburg-York area, men, young and old, dream of owning a Harley. When Chris and Rhys conceived their invention and realized their patent, a safety device for motorcycle ignitions, never did they think that their patent would transform their dream toy, nor did they fathom the money they would earn. After two years, the young lovers purchased their home, renovated the dilapidated farmhouse, paid off all their debts, and told everyone the secret they held for four years. Chris and Rhys could live comfortable from the royalty revenue their received from their patent. They continued to work. The creative juices needed an outlet, but they did not have to work. Life was good.

Rhys rose from the bed and grabbed Chris by the hand. He tugged at Chris’ hand, suggesting that he rise from the bed as well. Rhys led Chris out of the bedroom and towards the living room. The northern exposure of the home deprived the living room of the bedroom’s sunlight. It allowed the tiny white lights of the Christmas tree to provide a romantic glow.

As Chris plodded towards the living room, half-asleep, his eyes finally widened as he gazed at the tree.

“Rhys? What did you do?”, Chris asked.

“You’ve always wanted one. I pulled a few strings.”, Rhys added.

“But, this is just …”, Chris said, astonished at the vision. The tiny white lights of the tree sparkled and twinkled upon the glistening surface.

“With the patent, I made a few friends. Our name got bumped up the list.”, Rhys said.

“You … you …”, Chris tried to say, the tears overwhelming him. He grabbed Rhys and kissed him deeply. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do. I love you. You love me. We deserve each other.”, Rhys whispered into Chris’ ear. The two lovers embraced each other and kissed again.

“What should we do first?”, Chris asked.


Six months ago – “Welcome to the Harley-Davidson Assembly Plant in York, Pennsylvania. My name is John. I’m your guide for the day. Before we start, we’re going to watch a short film and then I’ll help you with the safety gear you will have to wear during your walk through the assembly plant.” The lights of the assembly hall dimmed as the people watched a short film on the history of Harley-Davidson motorcycles and the assembly plant in central Pennsylvania. At the end of the film, the lights came up. “Now, follow me to enter the visitor’s locker room.”

John led the twenty-four tourists towards the locker room. “Please place your coats and bags in the locker. In the locker, you will see a security vest, a hard hat and a headset. The head set is both to protect your ears but also to listen to the guided tour through the facility. You will be on the floor during assembly operations. You will see Harley-Davidson’s built before your eyes. The vest and hardhat are OSHA-required.” As John watched the tourists prepare for the visit, he said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

Chris and Rhys were among the tourists that day. Thy boys had fantasized about Harleys ever since they were kids. They never imagined that they could someday afford a Harley, let alone develop a patent that would impact the manufacturing of Harleys. The boys walked through the assembly plant, listening to the pre-recorded tour through the headphones. Suddenly, over the voice of the pre-recorded tour, everyone heard another voice. “These fucking faggots. What the fuck are they doing here?” Chris and Rhys were shocked at the words. The boys did not know where the voice came from. They dismissed the words and ignored the derisive insult.

When the tour concluded and the tour participants returned to the locker room, John announced, “Thank you for coming to the York Assembly Plant. We have a souvenir for you, a key chain, made with the metal alloy that we use for our tailpipes.” As everyone walked out of the locker room, John handed the gift to the tour participants. As John handed the key chain to Chris and Rhys, he said, “Thank you for coming. Having a good day.”

As Chris and Rhys walked away, they looked at each other and said, “It was his voice.”

Chris looked at Rhys and said, “I can’t let this go.” Rhys agreed. They waited for John to come out of the locker room. When he did, Rhys said to him, “Excuse me, but …”

“Tour’s over, boys. I’m done dealing with you people.”, John said disrespectfully.

“What do you mean ‘you people’?”, Rhys asked.

John leaned in to Rhys and said, “You people.”

“You know … ”, Chris said, “we heard your comments.”

John did not respond at first. Then, he said, “Good. Now, just leave.” He walked away from Chris and Rhys.

Chris stood next to Rhys and said. “We can get him fired. We know people. We can get him fired.”

Rhys said, “No. Assholes like that … they need life-changing punishment.” He faced Chris and smiled. “Life-changing.”


Three months ago – “John, we cutting back on the Visitor’s Programs. Last quarter’s earnings were not as everyone thought. So, we’re going to have to let you go.”, the HR director said to John.

“Why me? There’s five other people hired after me.”, John moaned. The HR director ignored John’s statements and handed him an envelope.

“Given the date and day, this is your last day. Just clean out your locker and leave now.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”, John said as he took his forearm and brushed the contents of the HR director’s desk to the floor. He stormed out of the office, headed for his locker, grabbed a garbage back, packed his gear, and walked out of the plant, towards the parking lot. As he sat in his car, John wept. “How am I …”, John tried to say the words. His ex-wife would not accept this. She expected her money for the two kids, who were not his children, but whom he raised. John could not accept the court’s ruling that he had to continue to support those children, until the putative fathers were identified. John knew that his ex-wife would never cough up the real fathers. They were either dead or losers. John’s money was on the latter. “What am I going to do?”


A month ago – “What do you mean I don’t get unemployment?”, John said.

“You accepted a severance package in lieu of unemployment. It’s clearly written on the paperwork provided and the check that the company gave you. Your severance was in essence a lump sum payment of your unemployment benefits.”

John could not believe his ears. He thought he could get some cash out of the system and try to live without having to pay child support. He gave three-quarters of the severance to the ex-wife, as she agreed to forego child support for the next six months in lieu of the one-time payment. Now, John had nothing. “What am I going to do?”

“You could get …”, the office employee said.

“A job. Like I haven’t been trying.”, John hollered. He rose from his seat and stormed out of the office. He walked to his car and found a parking ticket on the window. John took the ticket and ripped it up. “Fuck you and your ticket.”, he said.


Five days before Christmas – “Now, Mr. Thompson. What can I help you with?”, the kindly gentleman said. He was a man in his early 50s, handsome. The salt and pepper in the temples betrayed his age. But for those grays, anyone gazing upon the gentlemen’s mien would have guessed early 40s. His physique clearly supported a lower age estimate.

“Mr. Gusseur … am I saying that right?”, John asked.

“It’s Guérisseur. But that was good. It’s old French. Call me Julien.”, Guérisseur insisted.

“Okay. Um. Julien. I’ve been out of work for months. And I’m … if I don’t pay my rent in two days, I’m evicted.”

“So, you’re out of work and soon you’ll have no play to live. On the questionnaire, you completed, it says that you are divorced, but no children.”, Julien restated.

“Correct.”

Julien rose from his chair. He walked behind John and whispered, “So we’re pretty desperate, aren’t we?” Julien took the back of his hand and coursed John’s chest, mocking him.

John did not know how to respond. “I’m not that desperate. I don’t know what kind of fag shit you got going on here, but …”. John rose from his seat and started to move. Julien clenched his fist. John halted in his tracks. Julien turned his first. John turned about and faced Julien. Julien lowered his fist as he stared at John. John fell to his knees.

“John, today you’re going to learn many new lessons. The most important is this: Sticks and stones may break your bones, but healing will change your life.”, Julien lowered his trousers and revealed a thick, long, hard cock. “Lesson Number 1. Sucking cock is an art form.” Julien clenched his fist again and moved it, commanding John to move. John drew closer to Julien’s exposed monster cock. Julien manipulated John’s lips to open and swallow Julien’s cock. The look of horror on John’s face changed in an instant. “See. It’s not so bad. You love sucking cock, don’t you?”

“Yes. Cock is good.”, John mumbled.

“Cock is good.”, Julien said. As he blew his wad down John’s throat, “And cum is sweet.”

John felt the slimy goo down his throat. His first impulse to throw up he set aside. The sweet nectar filled his belly. “Sweeeet!”, John said.

“Cum is sweet.”, Julien said, as he smiled. For the next hour, Julien reprogrammed the homophobe. His clients, Chris and Rhys, demanded nothing but his best service.

Rhys walked into Julien’s storefront three months ago. He had learned of a shaman, Haitian by heritage, yet Caucasian in appearance. Rhys could not let John’s insult pass. With money in hand, Rhys secured Julien’s services. Julien was more than happy to oblige. The boy did not know that Julien was not a shaman, but an ancient healer, from ages long past. The thousand-year-old Frenchmen possessed a power that he cultivated and kept alive for all these years. Julien did not tell Rhys about his ancient past. Few would believe him, even if he did. His past belonged to him. His skills belonged to the newest client. His power gave Julien the tools to accomplish his client’s goals.

After an hour, the John that entered Julien’s storefront no longer existed. He would respond to his name, but he was no longer John. “Now, let’s work on the package.”


“What should we do first?”, Chris asked. He stared at his new toys. (To see Chris’ new toys, click here.) Chris walked towards the young stud, wearing a Santa’ hat. His velvet trousers nestled around his ankles. His cock tented obscenely through his tight red bikinis. Chris ran his hands about the cobbled core of his toy’s physique. “He is so hot.”

Rhys walked towards the chrome of the new Harley motorcycle. “I think you should take him for a ride.” Rhys smiled. Chris kneeled before his new toy. He lowered the toy’s underwear. His thick cock bounced. Chris swallowed and sucked the toy’s cock. The toy cooed with pleasure. He began to moan as he enjoyed the feel of Chris’ warm mouth. Rhys could not help himself. He rubbed his cock from the outside of his pajamas. He was so happy his lover was enjoying his new toy. He wanted Chris to enjoy himself, to let himself go, to enjoy his bottom side. Chris was naturally a top, but Rhys lived for Chris’ cock in his ass. Chris obliged, but Rhys knew his preference. The new toy would allow Chris to feed his bottom.

Chris rose from his knees and took the toy to the couch. Rhys said to the toy, “John, sit on the couch.” The toy’s erection ablaze. Chris sat on John’s cock and bounced, riding John reverse cowboy. “Good toy. You’re a good little toy.” John slapped Chris’ buttocks, just as Julien had taught John. All the lessons Julien imparted John mastered during his reprogramming. Today, the toy became alive. John’s new life had begun. He would live at the farmhouse, in the servant’s quarters above the garage. Julien delivered a perfect sex toy: a body that would never fail or age with a mind that would never question and a will that would never refuse. To satisfy inquiring minds, John would serve as the boy’s physical trainer and chauffeur. Behind closed doors, John would service the boys.

Chris stroked his cock as John pumped Chris’ ass with his diamond hard cock. Chris moaned with pleasure. He could feel his orgasm near. He could feel John’s balls bounced against his buttocks. “I’m … going … to …cum.”, Chris hollered. Cum sprayed all about the floor. Before Chris could jump off his toy, John bust a nut. Creamy goo slithered out of Chris’ buttocks. John saw the dripping cum, scraped it with his fingers and licked them clean. Rhys stared at the toy. He could not believe what he saw. Rhys too was close to his orgasm. He moved closed to John. John wanted to suck Rhys’ cock. It took less than a minute to prompt Rhys’ cock to orgasm. John let every drop trickle down his throat.

“Sweet.”, John said, with a blissful ignorance.

The boys reclined on the couch. “Best Christmas ever.”, Chris said. He leaned over John to reach Rhys and kiss him. As he rolled back, Chris came face to face with John. Chris kissed him, as well. “Best Christmas ever.”, Chris said again, this time to John.

“Sweet.”, John said. His eyes were blank, his stare was blank. The arrogant was gone. The pliant remained.

Rhys smiled. It was the best Christmas gift Rhys ever gave and the best gift Rhys ever received.

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