Ghosts of Christmas Post

Author's note: This is a taboo "forbidden fruit" story, but not incest. I wanted to make sure I let you know up front. Enjoy!

*

It all began last year, during the holiday season. As happened each year, one of the Christmas cards that arrived in the mail was from childhood family friend Betty-Lou and her family, all in elf costumes. It was adorable: Betty-Lou, her husband, two kids, their dog and cat, all in little elf costumes.

It was a spectacular photo, perfect lighting, and it looked perfectly staged, down to details like a Santa's workshop in the background, a naughty/nice spreadsheet in Santa's hand, everything. It was perfect.

In fact, it was beyond perfect for me, because there was one tiny little mistake in the photo. Betty-Lou's outfit was green and elf-like, but was made with somewhat thin fabric. So for a person like me with a nose for things like this (I suppose eyes?), her nipples were poking out ever so subtly.

So of course, I also scanned it, loaded it into Photoshop, zoomed in and blew up Betty-Lou, modified the brightness and contrast to further accentuate the nipple outline, adjusted the color curve, and applied dodge and burn (no, it's not a sex act, it's something you do with photo editing software.) I spent over an hour (you know, perfectly normal, right?). The nipple outline was spectacular. Her perky breasts were magnificent.

Betty-Lou was one of the "always around" members of my childhood circle of family and friends, more so my older sister's friend, but nonetheless always around. And like quite a few of us, she ended up buying a home and setting up shop back in our childhood home town. Except now we were grown up, with houses, jobs, mortgages, and lawns.

She still lived just a few blocks away, but as was the Christmas card tradition, you knew that when a person uses a family portrait as their Christmas card, that they had dozens, perhaps hundreds printed up, and used that card for everyone. So basically, everyone she knew got that same card, including my mother, my sister, Aunt Deb, and really, everyone we had known growing up in this little enclave we called our home town.

I made a joke about it to Aunt Deb. She rolled her eyes at me and shook her head, in that all so common "you're disgusting" headshake she would give me. I was so thrilled that my relationship with Aunt Deb had evolved into our close, yet somewhat odd friendship.

***

I've know he all my life. I'm her patient. In fact, if you go back in time, she was my pediatrician way back when. And when I grew up, just circumstances, she remained my doctor. Through it all; High school graduation, College, adulthood. Why is she still my doctor? I don't know. Sure, it was a little awkward the year I turned 25. "Happy fuckin' Birthday," I thought to myself as she examined my prostate in her office. I remembered the time earlier where I was playing basketball every day, and wearing my gym pants all day long. And Aunt Deb had my pants fully down and off as she diagnosed and treated me for one of those nasty fungal infections that you get if you wear sweaty gym shorts for too long a time. Suffice it to say, in this bizarrely circular world, Aunt Deb had seen me naked many times in her role as doctor.

She's also my mother's friend. I grew up in one of those environments where you called your parent's close friends aunt or uncle. She was Aunt Deb. I dated her daughter for a few months. She caught us fooling around once. She saw my dick that time too, as she walked in on me getting a hand job from her daughter. Add one more time to the list of times Aunt Deb had seen my dick.

I've done legal work for her. And before that happened, I had been her notary public, I signed and witnessed her divorce papers. She taught me Sunday school as a kid. When I became a teen volunteer, she was my mentor, for leading some of the Sunday school activities. We now are board members of the church committee, so we both are Sunday school teachers together at church. I teach at the nearby community college. She is one of my students.

So now our new reality is we see one another in person at least four times a week. She's still my cool aunt. And our relationship has evolved to where I make bad jokes, and she laughs and rolls her eyes at me. That's how it came to be, that I was pointing out Betty-Lou's nipples to her as we put together the agenda for next Sunday's lessons.

Then there's the complicated part. What is it about her? Why is she all I think about?

I suppose on one level, it's obvious. Circumstances have us in each other's vicinity in our social circles. And at work. And on the weekends when I visit my mother's house. Was it the time her finger was in my ass? No, I suppose that was purely professional. I imagined her saying "Trust me, I'm a doctor," naked. Maybe it was her outfits. Her tendency to wear nothing but leather flip flop sandals, showing off her little feet and toes? The way she smelled, whether it was her everyday scent, or how she smelled when she was all sweaty when she took on her projects? Or perhaps it was her sense of humor. Or the way she listened. The way every time she saw a weed in a lawn, she bent right over to pick it up, pivoting at her hips, not her knees. I had only been near enough for a proper view a couple times, most often I was far enough away, I could only enjoy from afar.

Maybe it was how in earlier times, she was almost our size, given her very petite frame. I was taller than her by age nine, over twenty years ago. Most of the girls at school were taller than her by age twelve. I've since learned she's five feet one inch tall and weighs 105 pounds. Now in her mid-fifties, she still has that body of a teenager. Ok, I guess I have a lot of reasons to think about her when I masturbate.

In hindsight as I thought through it all, it's actually obvious why I felt this way. She had always been the "cool" adult back when we were younger. The one who could relate to us. It continued into teen years, young adult years, and grownup years. She crossed generations. More than once, she had been the voice of reason when I was heartbroken over a crush gone badly. And although who's keeping count (five times), she had pulled me aside and given me tips in no uncertain terms, when she spotted girls who seemed interested in me. Yes, Aunt Deb had perhaps not directly, helped me have sex.

Even when her daughter dumped me for a better offer, she very gracefully was supportive of me and you could see she was rolling her eyes at the way her daughter behaved during that time of her life. (Who am I kidding; her daughter is still a conceited woman always with an eye out for a better offer. She was off skiing this year instead of helping her mother throw this party we were all involved with.)

Then the very next day, a card arrived from Janelle, another childhood friend; this was also Janelle in an elf costume, with her cat and dog also in elf costumes. What was the deal with family portraits of people dressed as elves? In the picture, Janelle was wearing leggings as part of her elf outfit, except, also by accident, a delightful accidental camel toe was there to be seen. Well, it certainly was there to be seen if you scanned it into Photoshop, then brightened it, adjusted the contrast. But who would do a thing like that? I was proud of my skills. It took a different set of skills to highlight a camel-toe compared to a nipple outline.

I suppose it's worth mentioning, having grown up around them, there was a history. Betty-Lou quite often skipped bras. Janelle wore leggings all the time. It was a small thing, a perk, a little thing you had to think about from time to time.

I decided not to mention this to to Aunt Deb. Somehow, I was willing to joke about nipple pokings, but admitting I was staring at camel-toes seemed awkward. (Also, occasionally Aunt Deb didn't change after her yoga class, and her yoga pants, although they didn't make a camel-toe, they did cling between her ass cheeks, making the most delectable view a person could ever imagine. I didn't want to say anything to alert anybody to change their ways. I dreamed Aunt Peg sending out a postcard of her bent over pulling a dandelion out of the ground, but no such luck. She sent a traditional card, not even a photo.

All I can say, is I most definitely saved the scans of those two Christmas cards.

But that was all last Christmas. Fast forward one year. This year, there was a neighborhood Christmas party, and this year Aunt Deb volunteered her house (along with Betty-Lou, Janelle, and I to be co-hosts and helpers) for the locale. To make it fun, those of us volunteering to help out would be in costumes. Obviously, I was going to be the Grinch.

It was quite by coincidence that Betty-Lou was at the house during that costume discussion. "Hey, you should wear the elf outfit from last year's card!" I saw Aunt Deb glaring at me, although it was in jest.

"Hmm, not a bad idea!" She said. Aunt Deb was off in the background, still shaking her head at me.

"You totally should. It really accentuated your eyes too!" God, that was brilliant of me. It was a slightly over the top comment, but I had never pursued Betty-Lou romantically. I was able to pass off the flattery of her eyes without it being perceived as a come-on.

The conversation shifted, and all of a sudden, they were ALL going to wear elf costumes. I guess that meant Aunt Deb would have to wear an elf costume too. No complaints there, maybe she'd wear the yoga pants that clung between her ass cheeks. I could only hope.

The news spread to Janelle. I had the opportunity to tell her how great last years elf costume looked, that all she needed was to change the hat. Aunt Deb didn't think anything of this comment, because I had kept the camel-toe thing to myself.

With a little luck, both Betty-Lou and Janelle would be wearing their outfits from last years postcards, Betty-Lou with nipples poking through, Janelle with her camel-toe, and yes, Aunt Deb with her leggings clinging tightly to and in between her great ass cheeks.

The party was all planned. Almost on an impulse, I ended up inviting my boss and his wife, knowing that his wife was an important person at the university medical school. And Aunt Deb was a sales rep for a medical supply company.

The evening arrives. It ended up being the four of us who had done most of the coordinating for the party, so we were more going to be "on duty" rather than able to sit around and enjoy the party. I knew my place in this group. I arrived before everyone else.

Aunt Deb scolded me in advance. "Don't stare at her breasts when she shows up!" I was taking a picture of the folding table, with all the name cards and the guestbook laid out.

"I promise!" I said jokingly. As if on cue, Aunt Deb bent over, away from me, to pick up the name placards out of the box. Her leggings were hugging her ass cheeks tight. And wow. Camel toe too! And a one in a million opportunity, the little depression in the contour of her ass cheeks surrounding her asshole was nicely visible too! That was a surprise. A pleasant one. All the times I had seen her bending over to garden, I had rarely been this close. And since the camera was in my hand already, I was able to surreptitiously get a shot off of her ass as she was bent forward to pull other things out of the box too. Photoshop would be my friend later. This was a wonderfully unexpected bonus.

Betty-Lou and Janelle showed up, and we had about 30 minutes before the official party would start. Betty-Lou walked up to me, in the Elf outfit. My radar instantly told me though; she had on a bra this time. Don't get me wrong, she looked spectacular, but not as nice as it would have been without a bra.

"Ouch!" I blurted out, as she punched me on the shoulder. With her petite little hands, the surface area of the punch was small and focused, so it hurt.

"You are dis-gusss-ting!" she scolded. It was in a playful manner, but I knew in an instant what had happened. "Debra told me what you said." Betty-Lou didn't call her Aunt Deb, only I did. "And you are disgusting!"

"What did he do?" Janelle asked.

"Apparently, mister disgusting here noticed that I wasn't wearing a bra in my Christmas card last year."

"Really? I didn't notice. Are you sure?"

"I practically had to use magnifying glasses to see, it was barely visible. But yes, apparently, if you stare and scrutinize, you can make them out." Betty-Lou said.

"Well, I... Uh. " I started to say something, then I realized maybe I shouldn't.

"I, uh, what? What?" Betty-Lou interrogated.

"It really wasn't that noticeable. "

"Then how did you notice?"

"Well, umm... Ok, so I scanned it and... OUCH!" Janelle punched me this time.

"You scanned it?"

"Oh, wait, there's more. He suggested I wear it to the party too. So after staring at my nipples, he turns around and suggests that I..." She broke off. "You know what?" She punched me again.

"Listen, it's just that, you know, your postcard arrived, then the next day Janelle's came too, and..."

"Wait. What?" Janelle interjected. "What about my postcard?" I had forgotten that nobody knew about Janelle's camel-toe.

Aunt Deb walked back into the room. "Why are you punching him? I mean, I'm sure he deserves it, but still." she joked.

"He scanned our pictures and blew them up. And I want to know why you blew my picture up, mister!" Janelle said.

"Ok, you see. Um. The fabric, ok, of the leggings? Um. Ok, Fabric sometimes goes places? That's all." As I was saying it, I realized, Janelle's camel-toe was in full sight right then and there. I was so busy getting punched, I hadn't had a chance to look without being caught staring.

"Oh my god! You are disgusting!" She laughed. "I hate these damn pants; I keep forgetting they do that."

"Soooo. Let me get this straight. You scan pictures, and blow them up? On a routine basis?"

"Maybe?" I joked. Thankfully, the mood was light. They were all mostly laughing at me. There was an awkward subplot though, since there hadn't been any talk of me blowing up pictures of Aunt Deb. I felt a strange pang there. I wanted her to know, that if she only knew how I fantasized about her. But it might have been weird.

The new neighbors from two houses down from Aunt Deb showed up, exactly on time, with a bottle of wine. The party was starting. Soon enough, it was a bustle of activity.

We spent the early parts of the party standing by the front entrance and the table with the name rosa-blanca.ru, greeting people as they arrived. Aunt Deb and Betty-Lou came and went, alternating between the tables and making sure the food was set up properly. At times, we were very busy, but here and there, there were moments we could talk quietly. Doctor and Mrs. Robertson showed up, Mrs. Robertson in a very low cut "These are my boobs" dress. As we they were signing their name rosa-blanca.ru, what was revealing enough in her low cut top turned into a peep show dream come true, as the fabric of her dress hung down from her as she filled out her name tag. I saw Mrs. Robertson's breasts, as did Betty-Lou on my left and Janelle on my right.

I may have forgotten to mention how incredibly funny and mischievous Betty-Lou is. "Jack! Take a picture of Janelle and me with Mrs. Robertson? Here's my camera!"

Janelle grinned ear to ear, and said, "Yes, we HAVE to have a picture of us with Mrs. Robertson. " So Janelle and Betty-Lou darted around the table, and squeezed right next to Mrs. Robertson. "Merry Christmassssss!" they said, rather than saying "Cheese." I snapped a photo. Then Betty-Lou waved her hands up in the air, and Janelle followed. "Merry Christmassss!" they said again in a sing song voice, which prompted Mrs. Robertson to do the same thing. It was a delightful picture of her very large store-bought breasts. We smiled and acted as if it was all innocent, but I could tell that Janelle was having trouble not laughing.

Betty-Lou took her phone back, and told Mrs. Robertson she would send her the picture.

"There. Merry Christmas, you pervert!" Betty-Lou said, after Mrs. Robertson and her husband walked away. She sent a group text out, to me, Janelle, and Aunt Deb. In the caption, she wrote, "For Jack."

"So why do you go to all that trouble, Jack?"

"Well, you see." I started talking in an artificial intellectual sounding voice. "In the early dawn of Man on the African savannah, humans evolved in such a way that, for the survival of the species, Males evolved to be more visually stimulated than females. For hunting, for gathering, things like that." I intentionally added the irony of making an error, since according to anthropologists, ancient men were the hunters, and ancient females were the gatherers. Getting it wrong made it funnier.

"Uh huh. So ancient man scanned pictures of boobs and camel-toes and blew them up?"

"But of course!" I said, this time in the mockingly elitist sounding "Grey Poupon" voice from the 1980s era TV commercial. "Ancient man, of course, also altered the brightness and contrast of the pictures, adjusted the color curve, and applied dodge and burn and infrared filters too. It was only natural for ancient man to do that too."

"So for example," I continued. "If you will observe the lady from the pink house down the street, you might notice the every so slight extra jiggle of her ass cheeks in her silk dress. That tells you that she maybe is wearing a thong, or maybe isn't wearing underwear at all. Now, as a noted underwearologist (yes, I make up titles for myself), I will tell you she isn't wearing any, and I know that because there's a subtle difference in the way the fabric lies more deeply between the cheeks when there's none at all, compared to a thong. "

They, being girls, looked very discreetly. They were yet again, rolling their eyes.

"Pay attention. This sort of thing was the difference between life and death, on the Serengeti plains." I said. "Now if you'll notice, Brenda over there, she's in a very similar type of dress, but her ass cheeks are well contained and not moving. That tells me very practical cotton or satin underwear."

"God you're gross." they were back to picking on me.

"I'm a survivor!" I joked. "Back in the caveman days, this visual acuity was a lifesaver!"

"Caveman is right. Pervert!" Janelle joked.

My boss and his wife arrived. She was actually a very attractive woman too, about the same age as Aunt Deb. She was wearing a thong, I could tell. I greeted them, and being my boss, I spent a little more time talking to them and making them comfortable. A lot of the people at the party lived in the neighborhood and had grown up around us, but my Boss didn't know any of them.

I grabbed Aunt Deb as she walked by, and introduced them. Being the consummate charmer and host, Aunt Deb wasted no time graciously taking over entertaining them. I surreptitiously checked out my Boss's wife's ass one last time, and returned to the table. "Thong." I whispered to Betty-Lou and Janelle as I walked back to the table.

This marked the beginning of a new chapter of the evening. Every new guest who arrived, or anyone who walked by, all three of us competed to be the first to point out the status of their underwear, be it braless or not, thong or regular panties, or nothing at all. I easily was winning this, having had a lifetime of practicing, but I did notice how discreetly the girls were able to be. I may be better at thong-finding, but I had a lot to learn from these delightful ladies.

As the evening progressed, we had hosting duties to do. Also, Aunt Deb made us. She came by and said, "You three are talking amongst yourselves too much. Each of you go off and entertain!" She could be strict too. I imagined her naked, giving Betty-Lou and Janelle a bare bottomed spanking.