The Stocking Was Hung Read Online Free PDF Page B

leaves dangling above our heads.
    Noel leans her body toward mine, pushing up on her toes to get a better look, and my hands tighten on her hips to keep her steady while pulling her closer at the same time. Our chests press together and the warmth and softness of her fantastic tits underneath her sweater press against me and I feel my dick start to stir once again in my pants.
    “Mom, do you have pot hanging from the ceiling?” Noel asks.
    “You know your father needs it for his arthritis,” her mother sighs. “Pot—mistletoe, potato—potahto. It’s green and it’s festive, and you have to kiss under it.”
    Noel’s head comes back down to look at me and on the tips of her toes, her mouth is level with mine. Her hot, plump lips that she nervously licks like she knows I can’t keep my eyes off of them when she does that.
    We both shrug, realizing we’ll never get out of this living room if we don’t do what her mother says. Tilting our heads closer, Noel’s hands come up between us and she rests her palms against my chest. Our lips quickly press together and Noel jerks her head back before I can even enjoy the feeling of her mouth on mine.
    “Yep, I think I’ll be taking him from here,” Aunt Bobbie announces.
    “Leon, are you his mustache?” her mother asks worriedly.
    Noel glances over at her mother in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
    Her mother shrugs, setting her coffee cup down on the side table next to her chair. “You know, his mustache. His cover for being gay, like Aunt Bobbie’s dresses,” she explains.
    “Hey! I resemble that remark!” Aunt Bobbie shouts, followed by a loud belch.
    Noel sighs and rolls her eyes while I stand here wondering what the hell would possibly make her mother think I’m gay. Did she really expect me to maul her daughter right in front of her and stick my tongue down her throat? Not that I’d mind, but I do have some morals and making out with a woman right in front of her family is at the top of my Do Not Do list.
    “It’s called a beard, Mom, not a mustache,” Noel corrects her.
    “No offense, but that boring kiss says otherwise.” Aunt Bobbie shrugs. “Leon, trade places with me, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
    What the fuck? I am NOT gay!
    “It’s okay if you’re gay. We like the gays and we fully support them,” Bev assures me with a kind smile.
    “I’m not gay,” I state, finally finding my voice and defending myself.
    “Okay, whatever you say,” Bev replies, not believing a word.
    “You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, my hands still on Noel’s hips, wondering if I should just lay one on her to shut everyone up.
    “Mom, give it a rest. We’re tired and we’re going to bed.”
    I notice Noel doesn’t reiterate that I’m not gay and that doesn’t sit well with me. Sure, that kiss was pretty boring and sad, and you couldn’t even really call it a kiss since it lasted shorter than a blink, but give me a break. We’re standing in her parent’s living room with her mother giving me a pitying look, her ancle staring at me like she wants to eat me whole, and her father cursing under his breath in the kitchen down the hall, the sounds of cartons of milk and containers of sour cream thumping into the bottom of the trash can while he makes sure I stay far away from Noel’s eggnog.
    “I’m just saying, a boyfriend should kiss his girlfriend like he means it, not like he’s kissing a dead fish. If it walks like a gay and kisses like a gay…” her mother trails off.
    Oh, for fuck’s sake.
    When Noel opens her mouth, probably to tell her mother about how tired we are again instead of defending my heterosexuality, I decide to take matters into my own hands and fuck the fact that her family is sitting right here looking at us. Letting go of her hips, I quickly move my hands up, grab her face, and turn it toward me, pulling her mouth to mine.
    I cut off her words and her breath, sliding my tongue between her surprised,