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It's late on Christmas Eve, and instead of enjoying a wholesome Norman Rockwell or Currier and Ives style family reunion, I'm knotted to my twin sister; the muscular grip of her vagina a velvet shackle arresting the felonious bulge at the base of my cock. She's asleep now, but I remain her prisoner. Her squeeze and my swelling are involuntary. Like all canines, including us African wild dogs, this state can endure for up to an hour; plenty of time for regret and remorse.

Boats on the river glide slowly by in the darkness below. The blare of their foghorns and colorful displays of festive lighting punctuate the inappropriate seasonal timing of our crime. My apartment, in contrast, is remarkably unfestive. Zuri had teased me for my lack of decorations. Normally I loved decking the halls with all the trimmings and hanging a sentimental set of ornaments on a small tree, but Christmas this year has no purchase on my soul, unlike the grip of my sister's cunt.

Lying on the couch, calico furred asses pressed together, legs and tails intertwined, and sharing the continued heat of our recent dalliance, I cannot sleep. Guilt and an unwelcome abundance of change and misfortune has left me spiraling deeper towards depression. Mom and Dad's early retirement and move to warmer climes struck me harder than I thought it would. My employer is threatening layoffs, and Sis stepped back into my life in the most immoral of ways.

Innocent seeming at first, she had offered to cheer me up knowing I was in a deep funk. I assumed she would be bringing her fiance, so I prepared a dinner party for three. When she showed up alone with an overnight bag, I realized I had been duped--roasting a turkey for nothing. I should have been prepared for stuffing Zuri instead of the bird.

For the previous two years, we had successfully interrupted the cycle of incest entrapping us for so long; the curse apparently lifted at last. Her engagement made it easier to avoid the temptation that arose whenever we were together. I had done my part by plowing through a series of temporary girlfriends all incapable of alleviating my aching abstinence from Zuri, but I began each short-lived relationship swearing the current contender was the only woman for me. Self-deceit is a poor substitute for reform.

Dumped by her betrothed, my womb-mate had come crawling back to me for comfort with no apologies or remorse. All of my resolve collapsed as she cried in my arms. In less than a pawful of minutes, two years of repudiated sin evaporated like the flimsiest of New Year's resolutions, and my emotional gloom acquired fresh darkness.

At twenty-five years old, I should have prospects for a mate--preferably one not closely related to me--and be thinking about settling down and having pups. A real family Christmas was what I needed instead of catching my sister on the rebound and spending the holiday indulging in our old wicked ways.

How did an otherwise well bred dog from a respectable family come to this low state?

The road to corruption began at age thirteen while sharing the experience of puberty. By sharing, I mean that we went through it simultaneously, and because we were twins, we couldn't help but feel some of what the other felt.

Sex was scary and weird. A subject to be avoided and kept private at all costs. We didn't speak of it among ourselves, let alone with trusted adults like our parents. That was the culture within which we were raised, but it didn't mean my sister or I were ignorant of the facts of nature and the basic rules of the game. We had heard the moral prohibitions against incest, and our parents had us bathe and sleep separately. I know from talking with my sister about this over the intervening years that neither of us had been thinking of the other as a sex object until that one fateful day.

Before then, I yanked off in my bedroom under the covers, and Zuri did...whatever young girls do to relieve themselves. I didn't know. Like I said, we didn't talk about it. I prefer to think that if it hadn't been for one experience that occurred at just the wrong time, we never would have broken taboo and plunged into a decade long obsession of shared carnal desire. That tenuous consolation helps me feel more like a victim than a culprit.

The exact date of the initial incident escapes my mind, though it was around the holidays just like tonight. I'm pretty sure it wasn't Christmas Eve, but all the other details of what happened that night remain with me to this day, as vibrant and compelling as if captured on high definition video. Every smell, every tactile sensation, every sound, and every emotion is chiseled within my brain like a tombstone's epitaph.

Our parents had left us home with a sitter because of an urgent and unexpected business trip out of town. Gone for a week, they hired a twenty-year old zebra named Nyah. Being a college student, she was happy to stay in a real house away from campus, eat for free, and make some extra cash over the break.

Winter had the outside world in its icy grip, but Nyah was hotter than lava, warming my world with an amazingly curvy ass, big tits, beautiful black and white stripes, and a super friendly personality. She inspired my wet dreams every night of her stay and for years afterward.

I know that I make her sound like a temptress, but other than her inadvertent role in leading my sister and me on our first steps down the road to perdition, Nyah was one of the coolest sitters we ever had. Sharing our passion for video games, she held her own on the most difficult levels. She also taught us to cook all of our favorite dinners and desserts, but the best part of having her around was spying on her impromptu dancing. Whenever performing some mundane chore like laundry or cleaning, she shook her booty and swished her broom-like tail to pounding rock-n-roll tunes. The scene inevitably gave me a raging boner requiring a retreat to my room and an under-the-covers fapping session.

Nyah would have endured in my memory as little more than a masturbation tool if not for what occurred on her last evening alone with us. It was a Saturday night. Zuri and I were put to bed at our usual time, then Nyah invited a boy to visit. I'm certain that this was against my parent's rules, but neither were around to object, and Zuri and I were ready for sleep after playing in the snow all day with our friends. The opportunity for uninterrupted romance must have been irresistible.

I doubt that I would have awoken on my own to discover what mischief the two young adults were up to downstairs, but my sister did. Maybe it was because her bedroom was closer to the source of action than mine. Perhaps she smelled or heard something. Whatever disturbed her slumber, it was just past midnight when she shook me awake. I protested the intrusion, but Zuri put her paw over my snout to keep me silent. Twin affinity informed me that something urgent and compelling was afoot.

"You have to come and see what Nyah and her boyfriend are doing," she urged in a barely audible voice.

It took a few moments for my sleepy brain to process what she meant. Once I accepted that a male stranger was downstairs with our sitter, a number of adolescent fantasies paraded through my naive, pubescent brain. None were adequate to prepare me for reality's immense sexual extravagance.

Groggy, yet full of curiosity, I followed my twin out into the hallway and onto the long balcony suspended over the living room. Fortuitous lighting enabled our undetected act of voyeurism. Nyah had dowsed every lamp except for a pair of floodlights mounted beneath our perch. We could see the adults, but Zuri and I were lost in the shadows beyond the glare. Our naturally camouflaged fur also helped, especially given the backdrop of busy wallpaper. To anyone glancing up from below, we were effectively invisible. All we had to do was stay quiet.

The trick of lighting saved me from immediate discovery, because what I saw held me standing in the open against the railing, gawking like an idiot. What had cast this paralyzing spell? Nyah's bare breasts. Stripes curving over the rounded edges of those perfect orbs pointed at her erect, black nipples. I had spent uncounted hours imagining their appearance, frustrated by her perfectly rational habit of wearing a shirt and bra in mixed company. To behold them at last in all their opulent and unrestrained glory was a dream come true.

Nyah and her ebony stallion sat on the couch facing each other, clothed only in their last scraps of underwear. Too mesmerized by the wonderful titty show, I failed to notice the telltale signs of a game of strip poker in progress until Zuri pointed out the playing cards in their hands and the discarded clothes in piles on the floor. An empty bottle of my parent's liquor and two highball glasses sat on the coffee table.

"I hope he loses this hand," Zuri whispered. "I'd love to see what he's got hidden under that bulge in his briefs."

Hearing my twin sister lust after a guy's cock was disturbing. I know that's hypocritical. After all, I secretly wished that Nyah would lose, but I didn't speak that truth aloud. Sharing desire with my sister was too embarrassing. Besides, something told me that it didn't matter who won. Someone was going to be naked in a minute, and the other would quickly follow. From there, anything was possible, and nothing was going to drive me away from the best seat in the house for this live action drama, not even the awkward presence of my opposite sex sibling.

It was impossible, though, to forget that Zuri was there, and thinking of her made me aware that she and I were wearing little more than the performers below. The only differences were that I wore boxers, not briefs, and my sister had a tank top in addition to her skimpy panties. To my credit, I wasn't really looking at Zuri much. Nyah's boobs and the thong strap between her butt cheeks had my full attention; enough so to summon a healthy erection.

Not wanting Zuri to see, I turned away from her and held my dick against my stomach with my paw. A slight sticky feeling told me I was already oozing pre like a leaky faucet. The urge to stroke myself was powerful, and I prayed that I could last through the entire show before I jizzed my undies.

The poker match ended as Zuri wished. Nyah's full house of aces and eights beat her stud's pair of tens. Tossing his cards down in disgust, he lay back dramatically against the armrest of the couch. In the throes of victory, his topless filly jumped up to her feet and performed a victory dance over his prostrate body. Once again, her bouncing tits and undulating pelvis, no doubt intended to arouse her lover, had that very effect on me. The trickle in my pants became a slow stream creating a large wet stain on the front of my boxers. I was on the verge of returning to my room to wack off quickly and change underpants, when the events below took a turn preempting any retreat. Nyah dropped to her knees astride her boyfriend's legs to claim her prize.

"These are mine, mister."

With agonizing slowness, she gripped the elastic waistband with her fingertips and began to roll them down--gradually, exposing his tool. Everything they say about horses is true. His cock was huge. Already emerging from its sheath in anticipation, it steadily grew longer and thicker as she pulled his shorts all of the way past his feet and tossed them over her shoulder.

"My, my, David. You've grown a lot since we were little kids playing doctor. Is this big toy for me?"

"I don't see anyone else around, babe."

Nyah grabbed the middle of that thick, foot long shaft and squeezed and stroked it until the rubbery organ was rigid. I was desperate to stroke my doggy dick off at that moment, but Zuri was leaning against me, hip to hip. Hovering at the brink of orgasm, I made the mistake of turning and meeting her eyes.

That instant was a life changing epiphany. For good or bad, I wanted her and knew that she felt the same for me. Even fraternal twins sometime share this kind of telepathic certainty. I distrusted my instincts initially, but Zuri was sending too many signals for my hyper-receptive senses to deny. The simplest of which was her appearance.

Her name means_beautiful_ in Swahili, and If the shoe fits... Right? My name's Zuberi, by the way, which means strong in the same language. I never did live up to that high standard, having a bit of a sissy build for a guy. In fact, until Zuri started filling out, we were effectively identical. The motley patches of color on our pelts match blotch for blotch, and we confused even our parents whenever we decided to dress the same.

However, I digress. My apologies. Back to the sultry details.

The nipples on Zuri's small breasts were hard, erect, and straining against the thin cotton of her pink top. Her mouth hung open, panting lightly, tongue hanging out one side. With her right paw, she was rubbing between her thighs. The scent of her sex assaulted my nose. I'm sure my musk was just as evident.

It was a profoundly confusing moment. Beholding her like that was wrong. Guilt and shame dampened my ardor; just as well because what was coming next would otherwise have made me cream my pants in a heartbeat.

So busy had I been leering at my sister, I missed the beginning of the second act of our triple-X home theater. The shocked expression on Zuri's face drew my attention back to witness Nyah going down on her dark horse with a lustful exuberance.

The reason that equine girls have such big, wide snouts became obvious. It ensured Nyah had no trouble getting her lips around the flared end of that thick monster and taking it deep. Like a pro, she alternated sucking and licking his shaft. Her hands rubbed and squeezed his balls and stroked the remaining length she couldn't swallow.

I can be forgiven, I hope, for ignoring my own, less impressive cock straining to escape my boxers. Zuri, however, noticed and gave it her attention. I flinched as one of her paws rested on my shoulder and the other upon my stomach just above the tip of my throbbing organ. Her voice, laced with feral craving, sang a siren's song in my ear.

"You like what you see, brother?"

I was mortified that my sister was staring at my boner and seducing me, but I also desperately wanted to kiss her, squeeze her tight ass, and press myself against her furry belly. No was the chivalrous and appropriate answer. It was my duty to utter that single, simple word and stop events before they progressed too far, but I was a lecherous cur, eager to abet the perpetration of this terrible deed. Caught in moral limbo, my cowardly compromise was to say nothing and leave every decision to her. I wouldn't force or coerce her to do anything--instead abandoning courage and accountability with my inaction.

"How would you like to play a game of monkey-see, monkey-do?" she asked, interpreting correctly my silence for agreement to descend deeper into depravity.

I knew instantly what she meant. The rules of monkey-see, monkey-do are simple: imitate the actions of the example monkey. With insistent pressure, Zuri guided me to lie on my back, then stood over me just like our role-models below. With both paws, she grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it up over her head revealing her pert, little titties. With some haste, she imitated Nyah's victory dance, then dropped to her knees and yanked my boxers down past my hindpaws faster than I could react. The moist tip of my cock slapped the fur of my belly leaving a wet, sticky patch in its wake.

Shame, embarrassment, anticipation, and joy were the armies of emotions waging war across my young psyche. I mean, my sister was seeing something no one else had ever been allowed to see--my naked erection. I'm sure I blushed furiously. The first time with anybody would have made me self-conscious, but with Zuri? That was beyond the pale, and yet somehow it was also reassuring. We were the best of friends, always defending and being there for the other. No one ever came between us. I knew she would treat me gently with love and compassion.

Hurrying to catch up to her instructors, Zuri grabbed me as Nyah had done to David and wrapped her mouth around my cock. No stroking was needed to make me hard. I was already there. My problem was trying not to cum too soon. I summoned unsexy thoughts like math tests, reading in front of the class, and detention to forestall that moment for as long as possible because her lips, tongue, and the warm smoothness of her mouth were exquisite new sensations. I was on the edge of exploding when I heard David confess to a similar predicament.

"Oh, babe. I'm gonna cum any second. Where do you want it?"

I never heard Nyah's response. Since my view was the vaulted ceiling and my sister's face worshiping my dick, I couldn't see what Zuri saw. That our sitter intended to swallow it was so far beyond my comprehension, that I frantically waved for Zuri's attention to warn her of my impending ejaculation. The tilt of her head, her knowing smile, and the tightening of suction from her lips told me that she had opted for a mouthful. Zuri always had been competitive, willing to be a good monkey to win the game.

From below, I heard David snort and grunt several times. This was my first blow job, and the intensity of the resulting orgasm was mind expanding. Even though I wanted to scream, I remained quiet, biting my lip and gripping Zuri's head, my spasming dick filling her snout with gouts of creamy cum. There was a lot--too much for her to swallow it all and breathe--and I thought the flow was going to continue forever. I remember her opening her mouth half way through to suck in some air. Gooey tendrils leaked out to catch in the fur around the edge of her lips.

It was a minor loss, though. Like the trooper she was, the rest slipped down her throat. Unfortunately, that was not precisely what Nyah had done, and Zuri did not like losing this game or any game for that matter.

"Thanks, babe," I heard David say. "What? You wanna kiss?"

I heard them smooching, then a startled grunt from David followed by a wicked laugh from Nyah.

"Bitch, you snowballed me."

I had no idea what that meant, but Zuri did, and she pouted.

"I should pound you in your ass for that," David threatened, but his tone was not angry.

I was grateful David was only teasing Nyah, because I wasn't ready for anal with my sister--not yet--and Zuri would insist on doing whatever the adults did.

Worried because my sibling was upset, I mouthed the question "What's snowballing?" to her.

She mouthed back, "I was supposed to save some for you."

I felt sorry for her especially after what she had just done for me. Sitting up, I carefully licked around her mouth gathering up all of the remaining spooge that I could. She was confused as to my intent until I stuck my tongue out with the cupped end holding a viscous puddle of white. It wasn't much, but I made a production of swallowing what there was without even making a disgusted face over its salty tang. That earned me a delighted kiss of appreciation and a guarantee of more pleasures to come.

The two young adults were also smooching, but now Nyah had moved forward on David to ride him like a cowgirl. His staff had softened but was still fully extended. Rocking back and forth, the black labia of Nyah's pussy slid slowly up and down his shaft as she patiently waited for him to revive. I, on the other hand, never lost my erection and remained hard as a steel pipe. My knot even began to swell while Zuri imitated the same motion, rocking between my cock's tip and expanding bulge.

Once again, I was forced on my back and blind to what the adults were doing, so when Zuri scooched her coochie up my chest until she was nearly sitting on my face, I was one mystified puppy. She made my task clear by spreading her pussy open with her fingers and tilting my head forward to initiate contact between the tip of my wet snout and her bare flesh.

For those of you who aren't canine, I'm unsure how to adequately describe the intense impact smell has on our brains, but being that close to the source of her heat seized control of my entire universe. Nothing else mattered to me, and I was happy to linger there as long as I was allowed, lapping up her juices and tickling her sensitive organ.

Like an alien abductee, a period of time from my life went missing. For all I know, I tongued her twat for hours. Through the energetic grinding of her pubis and a series of orgasms that shuddered her body, I probably ejaculated all over her back, but my own physical presence seemed so irrelevant. I really can't remember. Her hot cunt was my sole reason for existence.

My single-minded delirium broke when Zuri jumped up without warning and raced into my parent's room. High as a kite on her intoxicating perfume, I lay in a drunken stupor until she returned with a small, foil wrapped package. As my pheromone addled wits cleared, I realized it was a condom. That Zuri knew where to find one, and that my parents used them, were just two more intriguing revelations to add to my burgeoning collection of previously unknown facts of life.

Can you remember back to the nineties and the controversial new way of teaching kids about birth control by stretching rubbers over bananas? That gimmick lingered into our generation's schooling. Zuri and I snickered our way through the ordeal in a co-ed health class, but now the training was paying off when it was most needed. She competently unrolled the latex sheath all the way down to my bulging knot.

Zuri was just being a good mimic, but the consequences of a sibling induced pregnancy were too monumental to risk doing anything else. I might even have shown some fortitude and fought against vaginal penetration without protection. Just watching the floor show and masturbating each other would have been a good second best option for me, but now I was able to enjoy it all lying closer to the railing where I could finally turn my head and see what Zuri saw.

Resuming her cowgirl position, Nyah glided down David's chest, pausing for a moment when his blunt instrument bumped her sassy slit. I though she was worried about its size--an unnecessary concern. Once she started backing up, it vanished inch by swollen inch until nothing remained. God! I could have stuffed my fist and forearm up there, but what came next was better. No one could dance like Nyah, and somehow, impaled on a thick tube of horseflesh, she writhed and gyrated with rhythmic abandon and a ballerina's grace.

Zuri couldn't compete, but hey, neither could I. Size and agility didn't matter. We fit together perfectly as if made for each other. Zuri took me into her warm, secret place, and was determined to conquer my knot, too. I wrapped my paw around the bulge and shook my head. Two irrefutable facts were preventing me from enjoying complete penetration. First, I knew from Sex Ed that for us canines, once the male's knot enters the female's vagina, her muscles constrict around it, and there is no way to get back out until enough time passes for the male to go flaccid and the female to relax. Second, the constriction and squeezing forces an involuntary and prolonged ejaculation. She basically milks his balls dry, and they are done for the night. Zuri understood that I wanted to last long enough to finish the game. Nodding, she moved in sync with Nyah always ending her down stoke at the top of my bulbus glandis.

It's worth noting that I was a virgin until that night. Zuri was, too. We were sharing our first time together, and it was magical. Despite all of the authoritarian voices in my head reprimanding me for being a pervert, I found a level of peace when joined with her that I have subsequently never attained with any other partner. I'm not saying the sex that night was perfect. We were kids fumbling recklessly in the dark. Practice and experimentation only improved our love making through the years, but that initial trial was special, and it felt right.

Having good tutors, we were mastering the essentials and even explored a couple more positions. Nyah rotated into reverse cowgirl for a while and finally let David have her doggy-style, where they finished.

I need to pause here for a moment, and express my displeasure--and I hope most canine's will back me up on this--regarding the common use of the term_doggy-style_. In nature, most animals adopt that posture when mating, especially among mammals. Feral horses and zebras fuck that way, so why not call it horsey-style, zebra-style, or anything else. It is not really fair to hang that label solely upon canines. Such nomenclature implies my kind are predisposed to more animalized mating habits, which is not true. I suggest using feral style instead. In that way the pejorative term doesn't discriminate against certain races.

Of course, having concluded my diatribe, I must admit to being a bit of a hypocrite. I'm a dog. My sister's a bitch, and it's our favorite position for having sex. Holding onto a girl's ass, her tail swishing against my chest, the domination, and the leverage to drill deep are all part of the appeal. When Zuri let me mount her like that, I was incapable of not going all the way.

To my credit, I lasted longer than David, but maybe if I had been humping Nyah, the tables would have been turned. She really was gorgeous. At any rate, I was but a few seconds behind my competition, and due perhaps to a bit of over enthusiasm on my or Zuri's part, or maybe just a misstep in the timing of our movements, we came together hard enough that my knot slipped inside her cunt with almost no resistance.

The surprise forced a loud yip from Zuri. Nyah and David were panting hard and murmuring their contented pleasure, but all background sounds came to an abrupt end after Zuri's verbal slip.

"Did you hear something?" Nyah asked.

"Yeah. You think the brats are up?"

"They're not brats. The twin Z's are just about the nicest kids I ever sat."

"Don't get in a huff. It's just an expression."

"Help me find my clothes, and get yourself dressed just in case. I need to go check on them."

During their brief conversation, Zuri and I shared an intense orgasm, but the instant we realized Nyah was heading our way, we scrambled into action. Moving isn't easy when you are joined with another at the crotch. We stumbled about like a marionette with tangled strings. Four legs only works if they all connect to the same brain, and we kicked, bumped, and tugged at each other until we nearly fell down.

Precious seconds ticked by before we learned to cooperate and coordinate our movements like in the three-legged races we used to run at Fourth of July picnics. I clung to Zuri's backside as she led the way forward, feeling grateful for the extra length of tissue below my knot allowing my dick to stretch relatively painlessly.

Either our required course of action was obvious, or that psychic twin-bond thing was at work again, because we immediately executed the same plan. Entering Zuri's room first, we made a reasonable shape of a sleeping Zuri under her blankets employing stuffed animals. Her favorite plushy was a feral African wild dog, so we left its large rounded ears sticking out from under the blanket and resting on the pillow. In the dark from a distance, it looked convincing enough.

That effort took time, and Nyah was ascending the stairs when we shuffled back into the hall. We just managed to scramble into my room and close the door before our sitter was eye level with the upper hallway. Nyah peeped in my sister's room first, was satisfied that Zuri was asleep, and then came to check on me. We were frightened out of our wits but ready.

I lay on the bed at the farthest edge from the door, facing outward, half covered by my blankets, my balls still pumping the last of their seed. Zuri was on the floor in a most uncomfortable position kneeling with her butt in the air and still linked to me. The extra covers hid her, but again, if Nyah made a thorough inspection or flipped on the light switch, she would surely have seen the truth.

She didn't, and we were spared that humiliation. Nyah returned to her beau, Zuri climbed into bed with me, and we spent the night together. There was some awkwardness between us after we were done gloating over our clever escape. We both realized the reason why avoiding detection was so important, why we could never let what we had done become known to anyone else. We also understood that there was no reversing our actions, ever. A bridge had been crossed and burnt behind us, our future forever forged in forbidden furry passion.

Our affair never was exposed, and as far as I know, no one even suspected. We were clever sluts and fiendishly discrete. Even in the present, I just finished texting our parents telling them about Zuri's breakup. I brazenly proclaimed she was spending the night on my couch in need of emotional support. Here's their reply:

Zuri's so lucky to have such a loving brother. Wish we could be there to share but know she is in good paws. We are so proud of both of you and wish you the best Christmas ever. Love, Mom & Dad.

If only they knew the shame lurking beneath the truth.

Setting down the phone, I lifted my glass for a drink, but it was empty. Zuri and I had been guzzling rum-spiked eggnog before tearing each other's clothes off. The booze was all gone, and the leftover nog beginning to curdle. I reached under the table and retrieved a joint instead. I lit it and flipped on a portable air filter so the neighbors wouldn't complain. The alcohol was still fucking with my brain, so I was just adding insult to injury, but I didn't care.

Given that I was_under the influence_, what happened next probably shouldn't have been a big surprise to anyone, but it sure startled me. An intruder appeared between me and the balcony. He hadn't come in the door. He hadn't been hiding in another room, and there was no fireplace or chimney to squeeze down. He just popped into existence. It was disconcerting to say the least.

He was a huge polar bear dressed in red velvet with white fur trim. A large brown sack was slung over his shoulder. He had shiny black boots with silver buckles, and long, beard-like fur hung down his cheeks and from under his chin. He even wore square framed bifocals. Do you need any further description to recognize this character?

I thought not.

This was Santa. Hunched over slightly so his head didn't brush the ceiling, the giant would have frightened me off the couch, if I wasn't so stoned and if his expression hadn't been so damned jolly and kind.

"S...S...Santa? Are you real?" I asked, not expecting a reply.

"As real as you want me to be," he answered with a voice so comforting, so blissful, so beatific, so consoling, and so welcome all at once, that I was instantly put at ease.

Still, his answer left me wondering if he was just a hallucination. I tossed a cardboard drink coaster at him. It bounced off his large belly.

"Do you doubt my existence?" he asked in response.

"Yeah, but I'm not finishing that creepy Dickens dialogue. Scrooge spent his Christmas Eve plagued by mischievous, moralizing spirits. I want nothing to do with that."

"You needn't worry. I'm the only spirit visiting you tonight, and I haven't come to torment you. I am here to wish you a Merry Christmas, Zuberi."

My doubt must have been obvious because he added, "You seem surprised to see me."

"I am," I answered honestly. "If I was expecting anyone it was Krampus. If you're here to give me lump of coal, I'm sorry I didn't hang a stocking this year. You can just put in on the kitchen counter."

The jolly ursine chuckled and dropped his heavy sack on the carpet.

"Now why would I do that, my boy?"

"Did you fail to notice that my sister and I are tied?"

"So?"

"So? Are you kidding? This is incest, which has to be at least a one lump of coal offense. Hell, it's Illegal just about everywhere. I'd say I earned a bucket full."

"Are those your standards?"

"What has that got to do with it?"

"Everything, Zuberi. I am not the narrow minded enforcer of religious, legal, and social dictates that you seem to think I am. I hold to a more enlightened set of morals derived from reason, human psychology, and the realities of modern human technology."

Now I had good reason to be skeptical.

"That sounds mighty progressive coming from a judgmental Christian icon."

"The Santa persona?" He laughed at himself, and yeah, it was super jolly. I almost laughed with him. "The way I appear to you is your doing. I am not constrained by myth and legend. I have always been and always will be. I grow with the times and circumstances and the advancement of human understanding."

"So...you don't follow a set of rules carved on stone tablets?"

"Absolutes are for tiny minds. Who but a fool dares declare that he is the ultimate arbiter of all that is virtuous and all that is wicked?"

"God?"

"Let's avoid metaphysics, shall we, my boy. Such discussions never have a satisfying conclusion."

"Still, I must at least be on the naughty list."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I just fucked my own sister. That's bad...isn't it?"

Santa, or whoever he was, I wasn't quite certain anymore, shook his head while tacking his ship of thought onto an alternate course.

"What is it that you want for Christmas, Zuberi?"

"To no longer lust after my sister and no longer have her lust after me?" I answered, but it was really a question. I had no idea what I wanted.

"Is that all there is to your relationship? Lust?"

I had never thought of our actions in any other way than as something shameful and base. Societal pressure against us was omnipresent. Guilt haunted me mercilessly. The affectionate and loving side of the equation was never properly accounted.

"I...I...I'm not...," I stammered at a loss to come to grips with those feelings. In desperation, I threw it back at him. "Oh fuck it! You tell me."

Santa hadn't come to speak in my place.

"Do you love her?" he asked instead.

This line of questioning was not what I had expected, and I couldn't fathom where it was leading. I had to think before responding, but at least I was truthful.

"Yes."

"How do you love her?"

"More than any other woman I have ever met," I admitted. "We have a connection that I can't find with anyone else. Only together, and especially when intimate, is there a sense of wholeness. Without Zuri, I'm only half a person."

"And how many people can ever say that they are blessed to experience a relationship that strong?"

"Um. I'm guessing by your tone, not many?"

For the first time since his magical appearance, the friendly bear's expression turned solemn.

"I do my best to spread joy and happiness, Zuberi, but hate, anger, sadness, and despair linger in abundance across this world. Love is the only thing that stands between us and all consuming darkness. True love is a beacon. You have it. Don't extinguish this flickering ember of hope. Fan that flame back to life."

"But society can't accept our union."

"What business is it of theirs? You needn't announce it. You needn't marry. You wouldn't be the first siblings who lived in the same house as adults."

"What about the risk of offspring with defective genes, or just the stigma of having parents who are brother and sister? How could we keep that secret from them?"

"That's the only valid argument against your union, but you two have always been careful to avoid pregnancy, and there are methods to ensure it never happens."

"But we want to have pups and be a family."

"Adopt. Foster. Start a charity to help kids in need. You and Zuri make lots of money, and your parents are well off. You might find it more rewarding than raising your own."

"I...Well...Shit. I never thought of that before. It's a great idea. I know Zuri will like it, too."

Tears puddled in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. Santa had succinctly slain the demons of doubt sundering me from the possible. A favorable future with Zuri had been so far beyond my hope, I could not have imagined it on my own. It was a Christmas a miracle.

"Thank you, Santa. I couldn't ask for a better present."

"You're welcome, Zuberi. You earned it and so did Zuri. You've both been on my nice list your whole lives."

The great bear hefted his sack again, slung it over his shoulder, and winked.

"Just do me one favor for next year."

"Sure, Santa. Anything."

"Ask for something simpler, like a toy."

Optimism was a state of mind I had not enjoyed for many years. Only Santa could have brought it. My own laugh, lost since childhood, returned. Of course, Santa joined in with a bunch of Ho! Ho! Ho!'s_before adding a hearty _Merry Christmas and fading away.

I was alone again with Zuri, and the tie binding us was loosening. Pulling out, I let my dick shrivel back into its protective sheath. There was no condom this time. She was on the pill.

Zuri woke, rubbing her eyes. Her large, round ears swiveled this way and that as she reacquired her sense of surroundings.

"I had the weirdest dream," she said repositioning herself to snuggle against my side. "Something about Santa and us and puppies. Wouldn't that be nice to have a few of our own? Dreams are so slippery, though. It's already fading away."

"I had a similar dream," I said deciding to treat my conversation with the jolly old bear as a figment of my imagination. "Let's discuss it before it's gone."

[End of Story]