The Professor’s Holiday Surprise (Cam Show Crush #1)

Bonus Story The North Pole Rodeo Champion

Noah

“Do you miss camming?” Paisley asks me in the dark one night.

She’s just nursed our fourth child to sleep. We haven’t talked about how we met in years. “What brings this on?”

“It’s the fourth week of class,” she murmurs sleepily. “An anniversary, sort of.”

Huh. So it is. Ten years ago, my beautiful wife had already made her mark on me, and I was desperate for relief. A pressure valve of sorts, so I didn’t do something stupid like hit on my best student.

Fate just laughed. But I did try my best before she intervened with her wise hand.

At Paisley’s urging, I kept up my OnlySantas account. I shifted the cowboy theme through to the OnlyBunnies skin for the spring season, then did Christmas in July. But I never grew my account beyond a handful of followers because I never advertised it anywhere. I didn’t really need to be seen by a lot of people, which I thought was fine until Paisley gave birth.

My number one fan taking a couple of months off from sex—including not being interested in watching me jerk off—definitely underlined that I was only ever performing for an audience of one, and when that audience needed a break, so did I.

And the return of our intimacy once she recovered was different. Better. Hotter, which was a surprise because I already thought the sex we were having was the hottest imaginable.

But now Paisley knew what her body was capable of. Making a baby. Birthing and then feeding a baby. She was lusher than before. More earthy and sensual.

And scheduling a livestream? Forget about it. Babies don’t live on a schedule. Or at least, Lowry babies don’t.

Besides, I didn’t need that. I had the only hungry pair of eyes I wanted right in front of me.

Sometimes she recorded me on her phone. It was hot foreplay. The videos always got deleted after. It was great, and it was more than enough.

But now that she asks, I think back on it and remember the thread of uncertainty. Not knowing who was watching, and how hot that was when I was single and aching for an off-limits girl.

“Yeah, if I think about it,” I finally say. “It was a hot thing I did for a while. But I’m an old man now. Nobody wants to see my barrel chest heaving as I come.”

She smiles, a ghost of white teeth. “You’re still the hottest man in Wranglers I’ve ever seen.”

I laugh, and the baby stirs between us.

“Don’t wake her up,” Paisley warns, a yawn cutting off the last word. “You are just as handsome as the day you twirled me around in the foyer of the Natural Sciences building. And I love seeing your chest heave. You are a sexy, sexy Daddy. I love looking at you, always.”

That makes me smile. “How could a guy not miss it when you say that?”

***

The next morning, Trick’s kids come over to our house with a toy catalogue they’ve been pouring over, and I forget our middle of the night conversation in the whirlwind of noise and unexpected Christmas excitement, since that’s still a few months away.

While they’re all distracted, I pull Paisley into my lap. “What do you want for Christmas, wife?”

“A barn.” Her answer is swift and definitive. And surprising, because it’s September.

“That sounds like you’ve been thinking about a new project.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, we’ll build you a barn.”

“Oh, no.” She kisses me on my mouth with a self-satisfied smack. “I have one already picked out.”

“So you want a barn…somewhere else?”

“Yep.” She slides off my lap. “Can you go see it tomorrow for me?”

She has to go to the college after that, so we don’t get to talk about why she wants a barn. She has a big poly tunnel for her garden, and a utility shed so big townsfolk might call it a barn.

But Paisley is a deeply sensible, incredibly smart woman. If she wants something, she must have a good reason.

And then I get caught up in being a dad and a rancher, and the day zooms by faster than I’d like, because there’s always more to do.

Paisley took the baby with her to work, since she wasn’t teaching, and I don’t see them again until dinner time, when she comes dashing in, the baby asleep in her infant car seat.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s all right.” I gesture to our oldest, who is standing on a stool in front of the stove, carefully stirring pasta sauce. “We made dinner.”

“Bless you.” She sets the baby down and stretches her neck and arms.

“Sore?”

“A little.”

“Massage tonight?” I make it a completely innocent sounding offer, but she still smirks.

“If I’m still awake, yes.” She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes. “Don’t forget about tomorrow, remember.”

“Your barn.” I kiss the top of her head. “I haven’t forgotten.”

***

As I park my truck at the edge of the road and hop out, I regret not asking more about the why of what I’m doing here.

It’s a weird little plot of land just outside Wildflower Hollow, right up against a creek. It’s private, but too small to grow anything substantial on, so I can’t see how it fits with her gardening work or even her academic research.

There isn’t even a maintained lane.

I hop the wooden fence and approach the barn with a critical eye. It’s right close to town, so maybe she’s thinking it would be a good farm store? It’s not a bad detour off the highway, and we could put up signs.

But part of the appeal of a farm store is it being on the farm, and I think this barn was only ever used for hay and straw storage.

The door swings easily on its hinges, telling me someone has been maintaining it.

As I step inside, two overhead lights flicker on. Glancing up in surprise, I do a double take when I realize the barn is…decorated for Christmas.

Slowly, I turn in a circle, my gaze drifting down again. And when I return full circle to where I first stepped in, I realize there’s a banner on the opposite wall.

Welcome to the North Pole Rodeo, it says.

Eyes narrowing, I pull out my phone.

My wife, who must have been tracking my location, has already texted me.

Paisley: Your favorite fan wants an encore performance, Daddy.

Pulse thumping hard, I turn around. Behind me on a shelf is my camming gear. Not the big monitors, but a tripod, a camera, a laptop. Ribbon holds a note to the laptop, like it’s a Christmas present.

CowboySanta, every Christmas, I think about you and miss you. Can I see you again? GoodGardenGirl

I call her immediately.

“You want a show from the North Pole?” I ask when she answers.

“Yes, please.”

“Where are you?”

“Our bedroom. The kids are all with Trick and Sinclaire for a couple hours.”

“You brat. You could have come with me.”

“I could have.” She sighs happily. “But then it wouldn’t be the same.”

It wouldn’t be like our first time.

“Happy anniversary, Daddy,” she whispers.

And then she hangs up.

Cock thickening, I set up my equipment. Test the lighting, adjust the shot. And then, after connecting my laptop to my phone for a data signal, I log in to my long forgotten OnlySantas account.

My profile only has one active follower now, the others having long moved on.

I press the button to go live, then stroll into view, already unbuttoning my shirt.

Paisley

I hold my breath as Noah grins at the camera.

It’s amazing to see his face as he strips—for me, yes, because nobody else is watching, but it’s not just for me. It’s the anonymity, the possibility that anyone could join his livestream and see him leaning against a barn wall, cupping his heavy erection through his faded, fitted jeans.

A hot, horny, older cowboy.

Taking a break from the rodeo or whatever he was doing today to give in to a fantasy.

I don’t expect a lot of chatter today because he didn’t set this up. When he cammed before, he would write a script based on a fantasy, and have the lines ready to go, which I think is endlessly fascinating.

But I underestimate my husband’s erotic imagination.

And just like his decision to show me his face this time, he’s also going to let me hear him.

He lifts his hooded gaze and stares at the camera. “I guess you caught me,” he drawls, laying on the cowboy a little heavy.

I squirm.

“I got real hot out there.” He shrugs off his shirt, then peels up his t-shirt. “Is this okay? I didn’t know anyone else would be in here. Thought I had this barn all to myself. Got all worked up and now I need to do something about it.”

He spreads his legs wider. His bulge is obscene. That cock that feels so good inside me, that has made babies in me, now looks…crude.

I get closer to my laptop screen, panting.

His fingers trail over the straining ridge of his denim-cupped erection, following the shape of his needy cock up to his belt.

I whimper out loud at the careful way he undoes it, making sure the leather slaps for me.

As he works his zipper down, his hips thrust toward the camera. Showing off. All man, all masculine, thick, perfect man.

He groans my name when he fists his bare cock, bringing it into view.

And then he glares at the camera as he works his shaft. “Not gonna last, baby. Next time, I’ll edge myself longer. But your dirty idea has got me all wound up. Maybe I should crank one out and then make you wait while I catch my breath, hmm?”

“Okay,” I whisper, even though he can’t hear me.

I send him a present through the app, and then a flurry of them, tapping the screen over and over again. He glances at his phone and grins.

He loves the attention.

I love giving it to him.

I feel in love with him from an aching distance, when I thought I could never have him. I have loved him privately, silently, since the moment I saw him. Loving him like this is easy. It’s how we began.

In two separate realities, I fell for this man.

And then those streams collided and now he’s mine. My cowboy, my Daddy, my Christmas gift forever.

On the screen, he pushes his jeans down so I can see his heavy balls. He plays with them, cupping himself roughly as he strokes his cock.

“Fuck, I need to stop.” He sucks in a big breath, then winks at the screen. “You never knew how hard it was to stop myself, huh? Now I’m a chatterbox. I only let myself cum once a week, though, so I didn’t want to rush it. Now it’s even harder because your hot little mouth is always right there in the morning, isn’t it?”

My cheeks are flaming as I nod.

“I love your mouth, Paisley. Your clever tongue. Can’t believe you’re my wife. Can’t believe I get you, and this is what you do for me. Dirty girl, watching your professor online. And you know it’s me now. Bad girl. Fuck, if you were here I’d fuck your mouth as punishment for being such a horny slut.”

My mouth drops open and I squeal in delight.

We never do dirty talk like that, all degradation and raunch, but when left to his own devices, my husband goes there. How fun.

He moans and starts stroking again. “Jesus, the things I say when I get right to the edge. Fuck. I promise I’ll be sweet to you, Paisley. Come find me in this barn and your rodeo champion will be so good to his favorite Christmas elf. Might put another baby in you, though. Gotta keep those tits milky for Daddy.”

I roll onto my back, needing to touch myself now.

I can still see him, a blur in the corner of my eye, but all I want is his voice right now as I shove my hand in my panties and find my clit.

“Love your mouth and your tits, baby. But none of it compares to that dirty mind of yours. Bet you’re touching yourself by now. Wet cunt. Aching tits. All mine. I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight, baby. Hold you down and reward you for this filth. Oh Jeez, that’s too hot. I can’t hold back. Paisley, Daddy’s going to come.”

I sob and circle my fingers on my clit, then plunge two into my pussy as Noah jerks himself to completion on the screen.

My pussy is still fluttering against my hand when he starts chuckling.

“Did you like that, you little pervert?” He winks at the camera. “I don’t know if you really do want to buy this or if that was an elaborate ruse to let me get my kink on, but I like it. I like it a lot. Weird little barn. Perfect little getaway. Want to scandalize the good townsfolk of Wildflower Hollow and buy it as a sex dungeon?”

I roll back onto my side just in time, as he finds his phone and dials my number again.

“Yes,” I answer, gasping for air. “We need to buy the sex barn.”

“I love you,” he says warmly. “Am I leaving the gear here or should I bring it home with me?”

“Leave it there. I think I might have more questions about the barn tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” He groans. “Once upon a time you were limited to watching Cowboy Santa once a week.”

“That was before I married Cowboy Santa and give him four babies,” I point out.

“Tomorrow it is. Same time?”

I giggle. “Works for me. I love you, too.”

“Brat.”

“Cowboy.”

“I’m coming home now. Do you want me to pick up the kids?”

“Want to see if you can sneak home for a quickie before we get them?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

THE END