My Christmas Joy

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This story is a work of fiction; any similarities to persons in the real world or in another fictional world are purely coincidental. Fore warning: This story has some technical details that only “nerds” will enjoy; but feel free to just ignore and it keep reading, they are not integral to the story.

It’s longer than I thought it would be, but I wanted to build the characters up and really explore their personality and relationships. I promise there are some pretty neat (IMO) surprises at the end.

People say that seasonal depression is common around major holiday seasons. I know it’s something I would experience when I was single, but I never really thought about it much after I got married and had kids. To be honest, I was just too busy to be depressed! Running errands, shopping, trying to get those last-minute deadlines at work finished so you can actually enjoy your holiday time off without it weighing your mind down…

But as most marriages go, you have your ups and downs; for me, it was currently on the down-slope. We have one daughter and I love her dearly, but there’s just no fire between me and my wife anymore. On our 5th anniversary, we went to a restaurant and … not much else.

To the casual observer we would appear to be a normal, happily-married couple. We hugged, kissed, gave each other back rubs, put our arms around each other as we sit in church every Sunday; we were devoted to each other’s needs in all areas except physically.

I grew up in a spiritual home, and considered myself in good-standing with God; we had a good relationship and I talked to Him as you would a wise friend whom you go to for wisdom and guidance. My wife was newer to the faith, but she was on good terms as well. That’s why we never seriously considered things like divorce or adultery; we knew we had to stick it out together.

But days turns into weeks, and months, and longer. Unlike most men, sex for me isn’t just a good time; it’s supposed to be a close inter-personal bonding—an emotional need—even though a lot of men don’t realize or won’t admit it. So I was just tired of the rejection, and became mentally disengaged. Because of my beliefs I had few options that involved anyone but myself, but I did return to pornography. It was really unfulfilling, though; I found that I really enjoyed written erotica, with one site in particular that I had mentally bookmarked.

So our lives had fallen into a pattern of my wife and I mostly enjoying our own hobbies separately, with the occasional family activity. Speaking of family activities: Christmas is coming up, and our daughter Joy is coming home from college to spend the time with us. I was really looking forward to having someone else around the house for a change.

* * * * *

“Ugh, I can’t,” I told my friend Beth on the phone. “I always go home to spend Christmas with my mom and dad; they’d be mad if I went to someone else’s house. Besides, my dad always mopes around the house and complains about everything whenever we talk; so I want to go cheer him up.”

Beth replied, “I knew you were going to say that… But I figured I would offer, being your most amazing friend that I am—”

“You’re my only friend,” I interjected.

“Well, look,” she continued, “it’s not my fault you’re an introverted nerd. But I’m sure you’ll have fun at your boring house with your boring parents, doing nerdy stuff like playing chess and talking about computers.”

I laughed hardily, “I will take that as a compliment. I know you don’t like doing all that ‘nerdy’ stuff I like doing, but that’s just me OK? That’s why I have you around… to get me out of my shell and stuff.”

“Oh really? I still haven’t got you to even go to first base with a guy. You’re going to have like 27 robot AI cats running around the house, and have a garden gnome yell at the neighborhood kids ‘Please vacate the lawn at your earliest convenience’.”

At this point I was falling out of my chair laughing, because it sounded so totally cool—and something I could totally see myself doing. I made some mental notes to investigate modding a garden gnome to install a speaker and a motion sensor, and read some books on AI and robotics.

“Oh crap I gotta go, have a boring Christmas and I’ll see you next year!” Beth hung up.

I liked Beth, we had so much fun together kidding each other about our personality differences. She was an extrovert (obviously) and I had a love/hate relationship with the activities and dates she suckered me into.

She was right about one thing, though; I was totally on the dry side when it came to relationships. I don’t know why; I just don’t feel like it, OK? You know, it’s like—when I meet a guy my age, all they want to do is drink and party, and probably have sex and stuff; I want someone who’s more intellectually stimulating.

Make no mistake, though, I did have needs; I was no stranger to taking care of business for myself. If you think about it, masturbation is kind of like a same-sex relationship. I wonder how that would work? But not beylikdüzü escort just anyone, it’d have to be discreet; someone I know very well and can trust with a secret and not to make it all weird. I guess logistically that boils down to Beth… oh crap no! Sorry, I got distracted—I do go off on mental bunny trails frequently.

I like to think of myself as straight, even though I haven’t had any experience to say for or against. I sometimes wonder how a penis would feel, or even a tongue… Oh man it’s getting hot right now, I need to stop.

So anyway, Christmas will be so much fun to get away from college stuff for a bit!

* * * * *

“Oh my God, Rob, you’re such a scrooge!” I was surprised; my wife seemed genuinely upset about this. “I got an amazing opportunity for my business, and you want me to just ignore it? We’ve done Christmas together for 24 years, surely it won’t be horrible to just let me go.”

“Ok, Karen; if it means that much to you, go ahead. It’s your business, and if you’ve got the funds from sales, go ahead and do it. You can write it off on taxes. It’s just that Joy has been off at college for 3 and a half years; this is her last year of school. Who knows where she’ll move after she graduates? It might be our last year together for awhile.”

Karen groaned. “Look, she’s 21; her friend, Beth, is probably gonna try to get her do some kind of party and meet guys and stuff—”.

“Oh c’mon, this is Joy we’re talking about it,” I said, giving her an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

“Well anyway,” Karen continued dismissively, “she needs to grow up and live her own life. It’ll be good for her.”

I knew there was no point in arguing, so I just shrugged my shoulders. “Alright, whatever; I guess I’ll just sleep and do my own thing around here—alone.”

Karen smiled and gave me a hug, “Thanks, but that’s all you do anyway.” And with that, she ran off to pack her suitcase. I didn’t try to fight her on it; no point in causing an unnecessary argument. If anything, it’ll be more peaceful to have her gone.

Despite her plans not to be around, she still insisted on having me put up a tree and decorating. I liked Christmas decor, so I was ok with it anyway; it was just so much work for nothing…

* * * * *

It was December 22nd, and the weather certainly agreed. I was driving back to see Mom and Dad. We didn’t really talk much, but I think it’s like an unwritten contract that I come home for Christmas or something. Anyway, I pulled into the driveway as much as I could; it wasn’t shoveled, so I figured Dad might need some help with that later. It was 8:23 AM, and Dad usually took this time of year off, so I figured he might be just waking up or something.

I climbed up the stairs trying to keep both my neck and the packages I had brought unbroken. I rang the doorbell—it took several minutes for me to hear someone walking around inside, so I figured Dad was probably asleep and Mom was out shopping or something.

“Hi Daddy! I heard you ordered some Christmas Joy!” Dad was super good at “Dad jokes”, so I frequently use my name in a pun.

He looked shocked, “Joy! I didn’t expect you here… and it’s too early for bad jokes like that.”

I smiled obscenely wide, stretching all my face muscles as much as they could.

“Well don’t just stand there…come in, come in!” he said, ushering me in with his hand and taking my suitcase and some packages. He set the suitcase down and put the packages under the tree. When he was done with that, he leaned back to stretch his back out.

He was still in his pajamas and I couldn’t help but notice something peeking out of the folds of the fabric downstairs. Is that his… oh wow it is. Not to make an awkward scene, I figured I should pretend nothing happened and move on. So I took my coat off, threw it on the couch and went over to give him a hug.

He held me close like he used to when I was a kid, and I just set my head on his shoulder and hugged tightly back. I could tell he missed me a lot. I could also tell he had morning wood, as I could feel it against my abdomen. I wonder if he was also aware of my boobs pressing into his chest?

Funny as it seemed, I actually didn’t mind. Don’t look at me that way! I’m a girl and I have them, nothing I can do about it. But it was more than just a good feel; something released in my mind and I was transported back to a simpler time. Nothing mattered anymore, I was just a girl who loved and missed her daddy. I felt some tears begin to form at the edges of my eyes and we just rocked side-to-side for what seemed like several minutes.

I was acutely aware of what was happening below; I felt his penis getting harder and pressing into me. I was kind of surprised because I’m his daughter and he shouldn’t feel stuff like that about me; but I also know he’s a man and there’s just biological stuff that happens without anyone’s control or intent. But as sick as it might sound… it was my first time experiencing anything like this, so I just beyoğlu escort kind of… I don’t know, enjoyed it for what it was?

* * * * *

I was just overwhelmed by everything. Here my daughter shows up unexpectedly for Christmas, while I was thinking I’d be all alone. My mind was a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts. Just minutes ago I was asleep having a very hot dream about … someone (I don’t even remember who right now, probably just a vague mental metaphor of a woman in general). Next thing you know my little baby girl is there and giving me a hug, and it was just all too much; I was so happy.

I realized after a bit that I seemed to be a bit more than happy. I guess I was hugging her really tight, and the dream from before had left me in a partially aroused state. I felt her body against mine, and it was oddly… exquisite? Is that the right word? What the hell, this is messed up. I broke off the hug abruptly and tried to move on as if nothing happened.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Mom and I thought you’d be off doing college stuff with friends.”

She raised her eyebrows and replied, “Oh! Where is mom? I want to give her a hug, too.”

“Well, um, you see… she’s not here right now, she had this business seminar come up at the last minute and figured it was a one-time opportunity; so she’s off doing that. It’s just you and me! We can sit around drinking hot chocolate, talk about physics and computer science, or hypothesize the experiences we’d have if our brains were just floating in jars and connected to the internet.”

“Dad, you’re so funny!” she laughed. “I would love to postulate theorems with you. Speaking of food, though, maybe we should have some breakfast?”

My stomach hardily agreed, voicing its opinion through a complex language of gurgles. She looked down at it, quizzically.

“Well I guess,” she started saying as mimicked scraching her head in thought, “I’ll go make some breakfast; you probably want to change into something less comfortable.” She gave me a knowing smile and headed off to the kitchen.

“I’ll be out soon,” I said, wandering off to the bedroom to change.

* * * * *

The next couple days we just hung out; talking about college and work topics, catching up on all the crazy stuff I was not getting into at college. Dad was happy, I could see; but there seemed to be something eating at him from behind the scenes. I noticed he would sometimes get this far-away look in his eyes, especially when we mentioned mom.

I started putting two and two together, and 2+2 is 10 in base 4, did you know that? Anyway, focus… I was really concerned about him and mom. I figured maybe I could steer the conversation in a way that would bring out whatever issues they were having.

We were on the couch watching nothing in particular on TV, and I put my hot chocolate down and turned it off. I turned to him, lowered my head slightly and looked him right in the eyes.

“So, Dad.” I started.

“So, Joy.” He replied, mimicking my expression.

“I figured you’re probably curious, me being away at college and all; I’m old enough to drink and do stuff with guys and all that…” He shifted uncomfortably and started to say something. I put up one finger to silence him. “Let me just say this whole thought out, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

I took a deep breath; talking about relationships or “deeply personal” issues with family was never something we did, so it was a bit uncomfortable for me to bring it up like this.

“So first of all, no I haven’t gone and slept with any guys or got drunk.” He smiled at that, and it made me feel more at ease. “Beth has tried to trick me into a few ‘surprise’ dates, saying ‘let’s go to this restaurant or that, just us two’, and then her boyfriend would show up with some other ‘friend’ of his. Obviously she’d invite them to sit down—being the sweet, friendly girl she is. And obviously the ‘friend’ would sit next to me. It was such a blatant setup. But whatever, I wasn’t really ever interested in those guys.”

And then the complex part comes up.

“But you know—being a human with biological functions—it’s not like I’m totally against dating and stuff. Quite the contrary. But I just have trouble trying to connect with any guys. I want to get married and stuff like normal people, but I just don’t feel like I can connect with anyone. The nerdy guys are just awkward and weird, and the jocks’ eyes just gloss over when I bring up things like Linux kernel development, and of course if I meet either group online it’s always ‘tits or GTFO’, or they don’t believe I’m a real girl, or they ask for my contact info so they can send me dick pics and stuff… but of course I never give that out! It’s just suuuper frustrating and annoying!” I heard the frustration in my own voice; I just closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and took a deep breath for a second or two.

“But, so like… I guess I’m somewhat scared. What if I never meet a nice guy who shares my interests and bomonti escort is not socially handicapped? I don’t want to die alone in a house with 27 AI cat-bots and a garden gnome that shouts at passing kids… and maybe shoots a stream of water at them if they get too close… I need to add that, definitely…”

I could tell that last part was losing him, as the look on his face became more and more confused.

After a few seconds, I said “I’m done. Thoughts?” I had forgot that I had told him to let me finish before commenting.

“Well,” he started, “robot cats and garden gnomes sound pretty interesting. But I’m guessing you’re more concerned about the first part—meeting a guy. You know, when I was your age I had the same concerns.”

I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Meeting a nice guy?”

“No, silly!” he said, giving me a light slap on the knee. He breathed in and exhaled deeply, as if lifting some great weight off his chest. “I was concerned about meeting someone who would love me for who I am, having fun together, and quite frankly wondering if I was going to be a virgin for the rest of my life. But I have to say, sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; the excitement wears off quickly.”

“What?!” I exclaimed. “I’ve heard totally the opposite things from other people, they talk about how amazing and wonderful it can be. I’ve been worried about missing out!”

He chuckled at that. “Well, I suppose it can be—with the right person. But if that’s all you’re worried about, you shouldn’t so much. You’ve got a vagina and a nice set of tits, and you’re a nerd; you’ll have your pick of the world.”

I was a little surprised; I hadn’t heard him refer to me and “tits” in the same sentence before, and he said they were nice. I started to blush a bit.

But he continued. “There’s several options available to you; online dating can be good if you find the right site. The one I met your mother on had the ability to ask user-submitted questions; so I could ask just what I wanted, and it would adjust the rating based on what you both answered in common according to weighted priority. So, you just have to find the right tools. But you never know, one might just fall in your lap in the most unexpected time and place. Or I suppose you might fall into his—repeatedly—but hopefully that comes much later; sorry for the bad puns.”

I laughed at the jokes and blushed nervously at the same time, but supposed he was right. I still wanted to pump him for info about what’s going on with him and mom, so I went back to the sex topic. “So, you said sex wasn’t all that great; but I’m thinking that’s just because you’re married and have it all the time whenever you want, so you’ve just normalized it into the status quo. It’s like eating prime rib for weeks on end, after awhile it’s just sort of… meh.” I shrugged my shoulders on the last part.

He laughed, and then it died abruptly with another exhale. “If only that were the case. I don’t even remember how long it’s been, but at least several years.”

My jaw hit the floor. Well, not really—it’s still attached to my face, and … you know what I mean. I was just shocked. “But you and mom seem like you’re so good together. You always hugged and kissed, and you’d have your arm around each other when we went to church or watched a romantic movie…”

“That’s true,” he said. “and we do love each other without any question; but she just has no libido to speak of. It’s been hard on me emotionally, so I just avoid it altogether and mentally detach…”

“Wait, wait, I’m confused,” I interjected, “I thought guys just liked sex to get off, and it’s the girls who are supposed to be all about emotional connection and stuff.”

“Well,” he started, “that’s how today’s society portrays it—especially Hollywood. But deep down men have emotional needs, too. It’s a sense of connection, being useful as a man, and fulfilling a need for acceptance—to be desired. Men and women aren’t all that different in that regard; they just express the needs differently. Many women can be fulfilled with other emotional connections, even sex without an orgasm; but men have a primal instinct—a need—to sow our seed and feel like they’re meeting the needs of our partners. It’s in our nature: to ensure survival of the species through procreation, and to meet the practical needs of our families like food/water/shelter/etc…”

It all just sort of clicked for me at that moment. I finally understood it all. Guys do macho stuff to impress girls so they will make themselves available for procreation, and to meet their instinctual needs to feel valued. Sure, there’s better ways of doing that then sexting across the internet; but this is where our society is, unfortunately.

“Wow! I had…no…idea.” I was at a loss for words. “So many questions and yet so many answers; I’m gonna need time to process this all.”

I stood up, but somehow I didn’t want to end the conversation on this note; it sounded like a sad ending for dad, and I just felt bad for him. I was upset at mom for neglecting my dad, yet I loved them both. Deep down, I decided I was more of a “daddy’s girl”; it sounds horrible to say, but I think I loved my dad more. If it ever came down to—God forbid—a divorce, and assuming I was still of the age I needed custody, I would choose my dad without a second thought.

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