Amanda's Christmas Present


Written by David North

      I've already intimated that Julia and I have a great relationship, which made the events of the day following our arrival at her parents' home for Christmas all the more peculiar. I hardly saw anything of Julia all morning; she spent the time closeted with her mother, presumably catching up on all those mother-daughter things. I had no problem with that, but when the two of them hardly said a word to me over lunch, and Julia's mother Amanda actively tried to avoid making eye contact with me, I began to get a little worried.

      Around mid-afternoon, Julia finally joined me in the living room where I was watching some garbage on TV and slowly going numb with boredom, and sat down beside me. I switched off the TV and offered her a smile.

      She smiled back. "I'd like to go out this evening with some old girlfriends from school," she said. "A girl's night out. Would you mind?"

      "No, of course not." I was surprised she would even ask.

      "You'll be okay here on your own?"

      "You mean without you to watch over me and protect me from your dad?" I teased. "When is he getting in anyway?"

      "He's not?"

      "Not?"

      "No. He called this morning to say he would be spending Christmas. Something about a deal he had to close on Boxing Day."

      "Boxing Day?"

      "Yes. It seems the Americans don't celebrate it and just go back to work."

      "What a bast--," I started to say, then caught myself. It was too late though, the intent was clear enough.

      "You're absolutely right," Julia agreed. She surprised me. Normally, she was the one who tried to keep things amicable between her father and I, but this seemed to have changed her mind about him.

      Julia didn't speak for a while, and as the silence began to lengthen, I watched her shift uncomfortably, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. Either she needed to pee, or she had something on her mind she wasn't sure she should tell me. I knew her quite well by now.

      I decided to take a chance. "There's something else, isn't there?"

      Julia nodded, and for the first time her eyes glistened as if she were about to cry. "Mum thinks...he's having an affair."

      "Oh Jooles, no."

      "Actually, she's certain of it," Julia went on quickly, forestalling any more platitudes from me. "I suppose she would know after all the years they've spent together. I hope we don't end up like them."

      "Not a chance," I said, giving her knee a reassuring squeeze.

      Julia pondered for a few more moments, then blurted out, "Oh Dave, she's so lonely. Do you know that dad hasn't made love to her in over two years."

      "Um, Jooles, I'm not sure you should be telling me things like that. It's very private stuff."

      "I know. I'm sorry."

      I decided to change the subject, and asked, "So, these old girlfriends of yours. Good looking are they?" It was a tease, and not in the best of taste at that particular moment. I could have slapped my own face, and half expected Julia to lash me with her tongue. But she didn't. She just nodded.

      "Why do you think you're not invited?" she returned, but she only half entered into the spirit of our usual sparring routine. After another, rather uncharacteristic pause, she resumed, "So you'll be all right on your own tonight?"

      "Sure," I agreed. "Amanda and I can watch a movie or something."

      Julia hesitated, then said, "Dave. I want you to do me a really big favor."

      "What is it?"

      "No, I want you to promise without me telling you what it is."

      "Hmm. Sounds dangerous."

      "Please," she urged, sounding uncharacteristically earnest.

      "Okay, but why can't you tell me? I mean, how am I supposed to do you a favor if you don't tell me what it is?"

      "You'll know when the time comes."

      "Oooooh. Sounds all Twilight Zony." When she didn't smile, I added, "Yes, of course, You know I'll do anything for you."

      "Anything?"

      I almost made another lame joke of the situation, but I could see she was in no mood for that, so I simply agreed. Yes, I would do anything. She studied my expression closely as I said this, and then relaxed, seeming satisfied that I had told her the truth. It was the oddest feeling, as if I had been on trial for a few seconds. This was turning into one of the weirdest Christmases of my life.

      We all had a light dinner together around six, during which Amanda was very distracted and hardly met my gaze once. The movie was out, I decided, and toyed with the idea of going out myself, maybe down to the pub to get well and truly plastered. Hell, why not?

      Half an hour later, Julia came to find me. She had dressed up a little in black trousers and a paisley waistcoat. They were nicely cut and looked good on her figure. She pecked me on the cheek and said, "See you later. You will be here, won't you?"

      Mind-reader, I thought. Aloud, I said, "Well, I might go down to the local for a couple of drinks later."

      "No," she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "You have to stay in."

      "Why?"

      "It's part of the promise you made me this afternoon."

      "Oh yeah, that's right. The one I don't know anything about.'

      "Not don't get tetchy. Stay in and watch TV like a good boy. For me. And when you get yourself a drink -- here I might add -- you should take mum up a glass of wine or something."

      "What do you mean? Isn't she coming down?"

      "She said she had a headache after dinner and went to bed for a while."

      "Oh, then maybe I shouldn't disturb her."

      "No, no. Just give her an hour or so and then take her up a glass of Chardonnay. Promise?"

      "Okay. Fine."

      "David. You're sounding tetchy again."

      I sighed demonstratively, then gave her a quick kiss back. "Okay. Have a good time. Bring me home a souvenir...like one of your better-looking friends."

      She gave me a playful slap on the backside as she walked past me and headed for the front door.

      I wrinkled up my nose at the thought of spending the whole even in front of the TV alone, and went to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers from the fridge. I stretched out on the sofa, guzzling draft Old Peculiar and started watching some hairy old movie where people's bodies were being replaced by pea-pods or some such, and then sank into sleep.

      I didn't wake until a really loud commercial came on, and was surprised to find that it was a quarter before nine. I had been under for almost two hours. I propped myself up, bleary-eyed and slightly drunk, and would probably have gone straight back to sleep had it not been for the crash from upstairs.

      I was on my feet in an instant, albeit rather unsteadily. I half-ran, half-stumbled out into the reception and mounted the stairs two at a time, hoping I didn't miss my footing. it would be just great, I decided ruefully, to have to spend Christmas Day in traction.

      I went straight to Amanda's bedroom, reasoning that since she was the only other person in the house, the crash must have come from there. As I approached the door, I felt my chest tighten in anticipation of what I might find on the other side. What if Amanda had been taken ill, and I had slept through it? Julia had asked me to bring her a drink, presumably to make sure she was okay. If anything was wrong, she was going to hang me up from my scrotum, probably for about a week.

      Reaching the door, I knocked sharply and called out, "Amanda? You all right in there?"

      When she didn't answer, my stomach coiled itself into a painful knot. "Oh shit," I muttered, and tried the door handle. The door wasn't locked and swung open easily. I stood in the opening and just stared, unable to believe the scene which confront me.

      Amanda was there, but she was far from all right. She was lying on the floor in front of her bedroom sofa, her legs bound together with rope and some kind of pink sticky tape across her mouth and chin. Although I could not see her hands, it was obvious from the way her arma had been pulled behind her body that her wrists were bound. Rope had also been wrapped around her body, above and below her breasts.

      Equally surprising, at least with hindsight, were the clothes she was wearing: Not one of her usual elegant flowing dresses or trouser suits, but a white blouse and a fairly short black skirt. The skirt had been rucked up to expose a lot of her thighs, and I could see that she was wearing stockings held up by black suspenders.

      As I continued to stand in the doorway, staring with (I think) my mouth hanging open like a village idiot, Amanda, who was squirming and wriggling about on the bedroom carpet, began making urgent, muffled sounds through her gag. She bent her knees and tried to sit up, but half way there she lost her balance and dropped onto her back and arms, vented a frustrated grunt through her nostrils as she landed.

      Her protest galvanized me into action, and I hurried to her side, noticing as I did so that the chair in front of the dressing table had been knocked over onto the stonework surround of the bedroom fireplace (as I've said before, the Haywards are not short of money). That should have told me somethinbg then, but I was so concerned about Amanda that I turned all my attention to peeling the pink bandage-like tape from her face.

      "What happened?" I asked her as I worked on freeing her mouth. It wasn't easy because she wouldn't keep still. "Did we get burgled while I was asleep?" I posed another question, ignoring the fact that she couldn;t answer me through the sticky layers of gag. I fumbled for the edge of the third layer, but she abruptly rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest, tipping her head back as she released a long, heart-felt moan. I was being to understand her perdicament; she had surely been here for hours and must surely be nursing an uncomfortably full bladder by this time.

      The last strip of tape was peeled away and at last she was able to answer. "Where have you been David? I've been lying here for hours, and now I'm really desperate!"

      "Pardon?"

      "Oooh!" she gasped out, screwing up her eyes, her brow puckering into a deep frown. "Julia said you would be coming up with a bottle of wine soon after she left," Amanda went on, unfurling herself and rolling onto her back, making another attempt to sit up. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position. She immediately bent her torso forward, and I watched her feet dancing around as far as the rope binding her stocking-clad ankles would allow. I was surprised to notice that the stockings were not torn. She must have been trying to keep still and maintain them in good order, and I wondered if that were a measure of her vanity.

      "Oooohhh," she groaned, wincing as if in pain.

      "Amanda. What's going on? Who did this to you?"

      "Julia of course," she said, as if this should have been obvious. "Who do you think?"

      That was when the penny dropped, to use an old euphemism. Was this the favor julia had spoken of? Surely it had to be; what else was likely to happen today that would be this arresting?

      "Amanda,' I said, hesitating a little, "I don't know what to think."

      "Ooohh, oh God I'm really dying for the loo."

      "Right," I said, and went down on my knees behind her to untie the rope binding her wrists, ignoring the sudden pulse of excitement which rippled through my groin.

      "Don't you want to...leave me like this?" Amanda asked at once. "I thought you liked...?"

      She didn't need to complete the sentence. "You know damned well I do," I said, "because Jooles told you all about it."

      "Yes, but she evidently didn't tell you about our arrangement."

      I shook my head. "What arrangement."

      "Oh Julia. What have you done to me?"

      "Amanda, wait. She did say something. I just wasn't sure..."

      "The little minx,' Amanda said, bending her knees again. "Oh God, i'm so desperate. She persuaded me to drink a bottle of spring water before she gagged me, on the premise that you wouldn't be long. That was at six-thirty!"

      I glanced at my wrist watch. Amanda had been holding on for over two hours. "I guess she wanted you to get really desperate," I ventured, acutely aware of the tightening material around my groin.

      "Well, she succeeded," Amanda gasped. "I've been in agony with a fully bladder all evening. I was starting to think that I would have to end up going all over the carpet, and then have to explain the need for cleaning it to Anthony when he got back. But now you're here...'

      "Now I'm here...what?" I teased, my penis throbbing so hard that it was almost painful.

      "You can untie me and let me go to the loo before I have the most gigantic accident."

      "I'm sorry Amanda, but you can't conspire with your daughter to lure me up to find you like this, and then expect me not to make you wait a while."

      "But I've already been waiting," she protested with feeling. "For hours. And now I have to go."

      "Sorry, but you're going to have to wait, at least for a little while."

      "David. Please. I can't. I'm so very close to bursting."

      "All the better."

      "No, you don't understand. I honestly can't hold it any longer. I simply can't. Now please untie me and let me get to the loo."

      "Not a chance," I told her firmly.

      "Oh you...you...?"

      "Now, now. Every time you call me a rude name, I'll make you wait any extra five minutes."

      "Well how long do I have to wait if I don't call you anything?"

      "Oh, let's say...until nine o' clock."

      "What time is it now?" she asked, craning her neck in an effort to see her bedside clock.

      "Quarter to nine," I supplied.

      "What? I can't hold it that long. Oh David, you've got to believe me. I really must go now!"

      "Nine o'clock," I repeated, tapping the face of my wristwatch meaningfully.

      "Oh! Oh, you little shit.'

      Nine-oh-five."

      "What? Oh God, no. No, listening, I didn't mean that. Please don't make me wait that long? I can't hold it Dave. Please believe me."

      "You'll just have to Amanda. I'm sorry."

      She shot me a dark look but refrained from further comment, probably afraid that I would extend the wait time even further.

      I sat down on the carpet beside her and watched her jiggling herself up and down, tugging at the ropes binding her legs as if she might be able to her wriggle out of them. Her chest was heaving and making her breasts swell as she sucked in a series of short, rapid breaths, fighting what had to be an almost overwhelming urge to relax her sphincter and let it all go. I think the idea of going on the carpet was all that really stopped her.

      Suddenly, in a loud and very frustrated tone, she said, "David, I'm really dying. Ohhh! I'm about to lose control. Pleeeaaassseee help mee!"

      "Tell you what," I conceded. "I'll carry you into the bathroopm ready for when the time gets to five past nine."

      "No. Don't move me around. Not yet."

      Ignoring her plea, I rose to my feet and squatted down beside her so that I could slide one arm under her bent knees and the other around her back. "David, don't," she begged as I started to straighten up and felt the weight of her body. I was acutely aware that several pounds of that weight was inside her swollen bladder, and that picking her up, I was causing that weight to redistribute itself, sending waves of pressing through her which would serve to increase her already chronic desperation.

      Sure enough, she squirmed in my arms, making a straining noise in her throat which sounded like a weight lifter trying to pick up a thousand-pound dumb-bell. I could literally feel her leg muscles shaking with the strain of maintaining control of herself. She was clearly going frantic, however, as the ponderous weight inside her abdomen shifted and she knew she was soon going to lose the battle with herself.

      "David, stop it. Stop it! I'm going to wet myself if you don't put me down."

      "If you keep complaining about it," I warned her, "I'll put that tape back over your mouth."

      "Oh!" she grunted, more in frustration than annoyance. I admit that I really felt for her at that moment, but the urge to give her what I knew -- deep down -- she really wanted, not to mention what I wanted, was too strong for me to stop now. I wanted to take her poor tortured bladder to the very limits of endurance, something I knew her cheating husband would never do for her.

      I carried her into the en-suite bathroom and fumbled the light switch with my shoulder. I lowered Amanda until her heels clicked on the tiled floor, and then made her stand there facing the lavatory now just five feet away. Relief was so close and yet -- if she only but knew it, and I suspect she did -- still so far away.

      Amanda tried to bend forward, and from where I stood behind her, I could see that she was making a futile attempt to cross her legs. The ropes, of course, prevented her. I gripped her biceps and made her straighten up again, giving her no resource to ease the terrible pressure on her bladder. I waited, listening for the sound of her pee gushing out, spraying everywhere because she couldn't part her legs. But it wasn't happening. somehow, despite her impossible situation, Amanda was still managing to hold on.

      A moment later, she betrayed the fact that her resolve was weakening with a sob of frustration, sounding almost like a child denied a piece of chocolate. Pulling again my restraining hands, she snarled, "Will you let me go, you bastard!"

      I knew the pain was making her irritable, so didn't take any notice of the abuse. In fact, if anything, it seemed to heighten my pleasure. In a calm, level voice, I informed her, "If you want to reach the toilet, you're going to have to hop for it.'

      "Oh G--," she gasped, bending her knees and trying once more to bend forward. Once again, I stopped her. "Can't...hop," she squeezed out between clenched teeth.

      "Well, it's the only way Amanda."

      "Oh, you bas--."

      "Ah!" I cautioned. "You don't really want me to carry you back into the bedroom and make you wait there until ten past nine, do you?"

      Her entire body now quivering like an aspen leaf, Amanda swallowed nosily and took a tentative hop forward. She only moved herself a few inches, but it was enough to jolt her bladder. That was when she started to lose it.

      The soft hissing sound lasted for only a second before she somehow managed to stem the flow, but I knew she was at her absolute limit now, and that even the slightest bump would finish the job. I was sorely tempted to reach round and press on her abdomen, but I managed to resist the urge. Instead, I said quietly into her ear, "And again."

      She shook her head vigorously, a resounding no if ever I saw one. She was moaning continuously now, hardly seeming to draw breath. Then she spoke, the words indistinct through all the moaning, but I managed to make them out. "I'm wetting myself."

      "Take another hop," I instructed. "Now Amanda. Don't make me force you."

      "Pleeeaasse," she pleased, but I merely tightened my grip on her arms and pushed gently. After a few seconds of this, she was forced to hop again, this time a good six inches, and as before, her pee began to seep out into her knickers.

      "And again," I ordered her sternly.

      "Noooo," she whined, but I forced her forward anyway. She took another hop and the flow of pee increased. I immediately made her hop again, then again, until she was standing right in front of the closed lavatory lid while soaking her clothes with urine.

      There was no stopping it now. She was pissing steadily, and looking down, I watched it puddle on the floor around her shoes, spreading rapidly outward and forming rivulets as it entered the grooves between the tiles.

      Overcome by the urge to help things along, I released my right hand from her arm and reached around to the front panel of her skirt and pressing with my fingers splayed to cover the greatest area. I squeezed hard, deriving immense pleasure from speeding along the emptying process. I knew I was right at the bounds of propriety, if not a couple of steps beyond them, but at that moment I didn't care. I just had to keep rubbing Amanda's abdomen, making sure she went on wetting herself until ever last drop of pee had been voided from her.

      I felt her body start to relax as the pressure subsided, and then almost at once she tensed again. Several small gasps forced their way between her lips, and for I moment I wondered what was going on. It must have taken me all of two seconds to appreciate that Amanda Hayward, my girlfriend's mother, was standing in front of me having an orgasm.

      I might not have ejaculated had she not chosen that moment to close one of her bound hands around my penis. She didn't do anything else except stand there squeezing it hard through my jeans, but it was enough. I felt my testicles tighten and send a burning wave of pleasure along my penis which ended in a sticky mess inside my pants.

      I was hardly aware of anything while this was happening, but I know I must have been squeezing Amanda's body hard against mine because I was still crushing her when the wave of ecstacy subsided. I had almost lowered my hand from her abdomen to her crotch, quite unconsciously, and as desperately as I wanted to pull her skirt up and probe her with my fingers, driving her towards another orgasm, I refrained. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair on Julia, even if she had set me up for this.

      After standing there unmoving and in complete silence for perhaps another twenty seconds, Amanda, bound with rope, clothes soaked with pee, finally spoke. "I think perhaps you had better untie me now David, and allow me to clean myself up."

      I felt an almost overmastering urge to say that I would help her with that, but I pushed it away and nodded my acquiesence. As I began freeing her from her bonds, Amanda added, "Well, wetting myself twice in as many days. Not really dignified behavior, is it."

      "But you did enjoy it," I said. She half turned her face towards me and a saw her smile in profile. "Oh yes," she agreed. "Even the part where I dressed myself as a secretary. Did you like that?"

      Julia had obviously told her a lot more about me than I realized. "Yes," I said truthfully. "A white blouse and a black skirt gets me every time."

      "It's funny," she went on, her tone suddenly wistful. "I always wanted to be a secretary when I was young, but then I married Anthony when I was only eighteen, and he has been supporting me ever since. I've never had the need to work."

      "But you could do it if you wanted to, surely?"

      "Oh good heavens no. Anthony would never approve."

      I felt like telling her what a stupid prick her husband was, but then decided that she already knew and let it pass. "David," she said, craning her head round to face me properly, "I want to thank you for helping me to realize one of my life-long fantasies. I hope it won't cause any problems between you and Julia."

      "I shouldn't think so," I said, kneeling down to start work on the pee-soaked rope securing her ankles. "It seems she wanted me to do this for you, so..."

      "I hope it hasn't been...to awful for you," she said then in rather a sad little voice.

      "Awful?" I echoed.

      "Well, I'm a lot older than you. You must have found the situation a bit...repellent."

      "You must be joking. Amanda, you are one of the most gorgeous middle-aged women I've ever seen.'

      "It's very sweet of you to say that, but..."

      "Listen, Amanda, if you weren't married and I wasn't in love with Julia, I would jump at the chance."

      "Hmmm. Like to be a kept man, would you?" she said, and after a moment I realized she was teasing.

      "Ah, but if you didn't have your husband, you wouldn't be well-off," I countered.

      "Oh contraire, David. I have accumulated my own little nest egg over the years, just in case..."

      She didn't finish the sentence, but then she didn't need to. It was just in case her husband left her, or she left him.

      I finished untying her and for a few moments we just stood there a few feet apart, smiling at one another. Then she stepped forward, kissed me on the cheek, and made a shooing gesture which told me it was time to leave. I conceded and hear the bathroom door close behind me as I crossed the bedroom and stepped out onto the landing.

      I went along to Julia's and my room for a quick shower and a change of pants before going back downstairs. As much of an anti-climax as it was, I returned to watching some crap on the TV until Julia came in around eleven.

      She stood in the doorway to the living room and gave me a searching look, and when I nodded, she beamed a smile at me. I had to give her full marks for keeping whatever jealously she must have been feeling completely hidden.

      As she sat down beside me, she said in a low voice to make sure she was not overheard, "I hope you stopped when you should have done?"

      "I did."

      "Good. Otherwise I might get jealous."

      "Glad you care," I teased her.

      She tweaked my nose for my insolence, then added in a serious voice, "Thanks Dave. She really needed to have that experience at least once in her life."

      "Oh," I pouted reflectively, "I wouldn't be averse to helping her out again sometime."

      "Maybe, but I might," Julia said, snaking one around around my shoulders and placing the other firmly on my crotch. She kissed me briefly, then pulled back and waggled her eyebrows at me. "So, is Mr. Wiggly fully charged and ready to give me a good seeing-to?"

      "I'm afraid he's not quite the man of substance he might have been because he did decide to make a deposit in my underwear." I waited for Julia to pull her disappointed face, then added, "But I think he had plenty in reserve."

      "He had better do his duty," she informed me with mock severity, "otherwise he won't get his dishonorable discharge."

      But he did.