Noel for a young old one

Merry Midwinter, Noel and late Christmas to all as well Happy new year.

I had a really disturbing dream last night after being pressed once again to play too much Arkham Horror over the holidays. To get rid of the recurring images I have penned following in a rush to pin them down on writing, in hope of purging my consciousness of them. So, take heed, I'll caution you, this story is not for children, although it's a sort of narration of a child, albeit a different kind.

With these warning words to guard your sanities well, I'll place the tale here.

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The flickering fire in the heart in the middle of dining room’s oak paneled wall painted with reddish tones the skins of a naked couple lying in front of it on the pale Amur tiger’s pelt. Individually, both were a stirring sight to behold, the man on top of the woman being tall, darkly handsome and athletic, in the way of someone who uses gym, not as someone working physically for living, while the woman’s crimson, waist long tresses spread around the lovers accentuated alabaster female curves starting out from long dancer’s legs transiting into hourglass body and turned on themselves to change into large spheres when reaching the huge, firm breasts. Kissing, locked into passionate embrace, together they were two avatars of sex coupling, the man’s raging foot long hard-on thrusting fiercely in a slippery furnace between the woman’s parted legs.

Immersed in thrusting his erection into the warm moistness, the man was caught by a surprise when someone yawned a question, “Mammy, is he going to be a new daddy?”

Head jerking up the man saw a young girl in a too large, floor length pink Hello Kitty pajama skirt, bunny slippers peeking under the hem, stand in the doorway with a teddy bear in one hand, the other rubbing sleepy eyes.

Stopping thrusting with his loins, resting both hands on the floor beside the woman, gentlemanly lowering his torso on the breasts, hiding the nipples them—only things that he could hide with his wide chest from the large milk domes—smiling, showing his perfect teeth—wasn’t the first time he had been interrupted by a tyke he hadn’t known his frequently impromptu lovers to have—he enticed the girl, “Well, hello there cutie pie. I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

Skirt’s hem trailing behind, shuffling closer in the bunny slippers, stopping on the pelt’s edge the girl repeated her question slightly rephrased, “Mammy, is he trying to be a new daddy?”

Sensing the woman turn her head aside—in shame from being caught by her daughter when making love?—she hid her face away from the girl, to him, in a very titillating gesture.

Inspecting the girl with vivid scarlet hair tied into looped twin pigtails the man could see the resemblance to the woman he was making love to, the hardly pr