Miracle on Slutty 4th Street Ch. 03

"Don't talk to me like you know me..." he growled, his eyes narrowing at her. "Don't just march your pretty ass into my home and try to analyze me."

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend," Lacey said, feeling truly bad that she had offended him.

"Is it that hard to believe that some people don't buy into all the bullshit of this holiday?" Bruce asked, sitting back on his recliner like a confident king sitting on his throne as he exposed his one-man war on Christmas. "Is it that hard to believe that I don't need to put up sissy little lights and put up some shitty tree in the corner? Am I supposed to buy into stupid fairy tales and hang up a fucking sock as I wait for Santy Claus to come down the chimney? Christmas doesn't do much for me... so I don't do much for it."

"Listen..." Lacey began as the older man looked at her like a naïve child. "I know there's not actually a Santa Claus. I get that. But Christmas isn't about that. Not really. I'm a grown woman, and I love Christmas! My husband loves Christmas too!"

"I bet he does," Bruce replied, subtly accusing him of being one of the type of people he'd just insulted. Not paying this slight any mind, Lacey continued.

"Christmas is a time for peace on Earth and friendship and community! Isn't it more fun to play along? What's the harm in having fun and believing in a little magic? Isn't more fun to hang out with people and have a good time, to socialize? As opposed to, I don't know... hunkering down in your house all day and getting mad at everyone else for having fun?" She pushed back somewhat against him with an innocent smile on her face, which amused the older man.

"I have my fun..." he said with a dark grin, letting that hang in the air between them as he stared at up at the young wife from his chair, completely unaffected by her passionate argument.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, unable to fully hide the sarcasm in her voice. "This place is clearly excitement central," she couldn't help but say, unable to hide the bit of snark in her words. She wasn't gonna back down or let herself get pushed around. Again, Lacey was no pushover, and the old man simply smiled at this.

She was more fun that he initially thought.

"Listen," he began, his voice slightly less aggressive. "You said it yourself, people who believe in this stuff are stupid. That anyone who goes along with this stuff is dumb. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"You misunderstand what I..." she began.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he repeated, this time more firmly.

"Uh... no, it was just..." she began, still smiling patiently, before being interrupted again.

"So you think I'm smart?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure, it was just..." she began.

"Say it," he said firmly, deliberately interrupting her again.

"Uh, what... Say what?" she asked, her smile lessening, a bit of annoyance shining through.

"Say you think I'm smart..." he said firmly. She paused for a moment, not enjoying this little game, but knowing no productive conversation as gonna happen until she relented.

"I think you're smart," she allowed finally, putting on a fake smile, her words making the old man grin.

"Okay... continue," he allowed, smirking with this small victory. She paused for a moment, annoyed, and the silence was interrupted by the sound of his phone beeping with a new text, but he kept looking up at her. Then he grabbed his phone and glanced at it as she resumed talking.

"The point is, you misunderstood me," she began. "I don't really think Santa is real. But wouldn't the world be better if he was? Wouldn't the world be better with a little magic in it? Isn't it more fun to have a bit of positive spirit in the world?" She almost bounced with positivity of her own statement, making her large breasts jiggle beneath her top.

He sat back and thought over her words. Lacey smiled slightly, thinking that she had finally gotten through to him. Her positive words, her indomitable spirit, her true passion, it had all finally gotten through. His heart was growing three sizes right before her eyes. Finally, he looked up at her again, gave her a small grin, and said...

"No."

Lacey's lips turned up in a small scowl as the old man refused to bend even the slightest.

"Hon..." he began, sitting back, very proud of himself. "I think it's you who's mistaken about what Christmas is about. It's not about joy and community and all that dumbass shit. It's all commercialism. Money and gifts and catering to our basest urges. Which is fine, I can get behind that, but let's call a spade a spade. Let's not pretend this is something it's not. You... you talked about my job at the plant?" he asked, and she nodded in response. "You want to know what I do there? You think I handle the toys for the little kids or the wreaths or the Christmas lights? No... I put the labels on the lingerie. The bras, and the little lacy thongs and g-strings, the type girls your age wear. So... that's what I do, honey. That's what the Christmas spirit is where I work. I don't think that's what you're talking about, but I like my version better, heh-heh-heh..." he laughed before taking another swig of beer.

"Wait, they make lingerie there?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"Oh yeah..." he replied. "That 'Mrs. Claus' brand stuff. And it's pure filth, too. Teeny, tiny... covers nothing. They're fantastic. You should get some for yourself..." he added with a wolfish grin. She rolled her eyes at this slightly. Being an attractive young woman with a killer body, she was used to crass comments from men. They barely even fazed her anymore. She'd dealt with plenty of old men like him who loved to make leering comments to young women like her that they had no chance with, just to get a rise out of her. She did her best to not let the old man get to her. But she wasn't fully able to hide her annoyance, and seeing that, he couldn't help but continue to needle her. "I've knicked a few of my favorites for just such a special occasion. I'd be glad to let you try them on..." he said, unashamedly looking the young wife up and down, practically licking his lips. Lacey subconsciously clutched her coat around her so that it covered her front again and spoke up, not backing down.

"No thanks," she said firmly with an upturned nose, a little skeezed out by this old man. He was picking up the pace with his suggestive comments, taking this whole thing down the wrong path. This was not going how she had hoped, but she was more determined than ever to stick it to this old codger and convince him to at least do something for the Christmas season, despite his obstinance. Looking to move on, she changed the subject quickly, trying to not let him get to her. "Okay, so, obviously, you don't feel so strongly about the Christmas season. And you don't have the warmest feelings towards the neighborhood. So... is there anything we can do to convince you to at least play along with the neighborhood holiday decoration event? It doesn't even have to be for a long time. Just today..."

"We?" he asked, inquiring at her wording. "I don't see a 'we.' I only see one person talking to me right now," he said mockingly, picking at her grammar. She rolled her eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?" she clarified, not letting the old man's games get to her.

"Well..." he said with a wolfish smirk. "That's an entirely different question now, isn't it?" he asked, eyeing her up lewdly again.

"Anything I can do within reason?" she warned, her tone a little less friendly as she warned him against going there. He smirked again.

"Oh..." he said, sitting back, his idea swiped from him before he could voice it, pausing for a bit as he looked her over with his cold gaze. Finally, a new idea hit him, one which clearly amused him. "Okay... I tell you what? If you, Ms. Christmas spirit, can just swallow your pride, humble yourself, and admit Christmas is bullshit, Santa isn't real, and that you're a weak-minded-fool for ever believing in any of it... then I might be willing to help." At this, he smiled insidiously, very proud of himself.

"I'm not gonna do that..." she said firmly, releasing her grip on her coat so she could rub her forehead out of frustration, unwittingly letting it open up again. She was not bowing to his little game of humiliating her, even if it might mean getting what she wanted. She would never compromise her morals and take the easy way out. Especially for such an obvious lie. She loved Christmas, and she truly believed in it. She could never in good conscience say such things.

"Well, then, if that's the case..." he began, still staring down the young wife from his throne. Before he spoke further, his eyes went straight to her coat-covered chest. "If you let me get two greedy handfuls of those big tits of yours, I'll make this house shine with Christmas pride." He grinned fiendishly at this, looking truly unpleasant and off-putting.

The young wife screwed her lips shut out of legit offense. Yep, he'd taken it there.

Initially, due to the warmth of the room, she had unzipped her coat, and in doing so, she had accidentally given this mean old codger a good view of her massive, perky breasts throughout most of their conversation. Beneath her coat, she had on a bright yellow top, which, while not showing any skin, was straining to contain her massive, perky double-F tits. Those suckers had gotten her a lot of unwanted attention in the past and, clearly, in the present. Massive, perfectly round, and extra bouncy, they were certainly attention getters. She often struggled to have people take her seriously when she had these mammoth breasts that made her look like a sex object. They had caused her to be on the receiving end of all sorts of rude, nasty comments about her and her body, which she did her best to play off, and shut down. Because of this constant barrage of crude, brutish men making such comments, she promised herself that her body was a gift that she would only bestow on those who were worthy. Men who didn't make those types of comments. Men who respected her and didn't look at her like she was a sex object ready to be used. The type of men who were above that kind of stuff. Respectful, kind men, like Derrick. Derrick... he was all of those things.

Bruce was none of them.

"I'm sorry, but I find that type of comment inappropriate, and I would ask you don't repeat it," Lacey said firmly, standing her ground, not backing down at all. "If this is some sort of joke, it's not funny. If it's serious, then you are making a huge mistake," she warned, staring him right down. Bruce sat back, his eyes narrowing for a moment as the young wife dressed him down. Then, he smiled.

"You are a spitfire, aren't you?" Bruce said, laughing, sounding almost impressed. "I half expected you to have run out of my house by this point..." For a moment, Lacey wondered if this was all some sort of colossal test on his part, an effort by him to push her away, to just get her out of his hair for good by making rude, nasty comments. But she was stronger than that. She would not be defeated so easily. She had to be stronger than that, both for herself, and for Christmas.

"I don't know what you're deal is. If you just hate people or if you just hate yourself. You keep pushing others away when they try to reach out... but we're all reaching out to you from a place of kindness. Why can't you accept that?" she said, standing tall, pushing back against the unpleasant older man. He paused, and for a moment it appeared that he took her words in, looking down and nodding. Then, he looked up at her again.

And burst out laughing.

"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!" he laughed loudly, his laughter making her feel small and stupid. As he laughed, his phone pinged again, and he kept laughing as he glanced at it before putting it back down. Finally, he calmed down enough to speak. "Wow... well, thank you very much for those kind words. They really touched me in my old, black heart..." he said mockingly, making her roll her eyes again. "I thought young people these days like you weren't supposed to pre-judge. Honey, you've built up this whole image of me as this evil miser who stays cooped up all day, and only emerges to scream at children and rip down Christmas decorations. While yes, I do hate kids, and yes, I have ripped down some decorations in my time, I think you'll find that I'm quite popular. Just not with the idiots who live around here. And maybe it's because I'm doing much more enjoyable things that I'm not putting up shitty little decorations all over my house."

"Like what?" she asked, her growing dislike for this man shining through her normally sweet, kind-hearted demeanor. Even she was being pushed past her patience as this old man kept running down her and the holiday she loved so much. What could this guy possibly be doing with his free time other than sit on his recliner and drink beer all day?

"Honey..." he began.

"Don't call me honey," she warned him again, her patience with him running out, causing him to smile, knowing he was getting to her.

"Okay... honey," he mocked her, causing her anger to boil ever so slightly. "There are three things I do on a regular basis. Three things I take pride in. I work... I drink..." he said, holding up his beer. "And I fuck."

Those words hung in the air for a moment, and this time, it was Lacey's turn to laugh.

"Hahaha..." she giggled, both out of shock and out of a slight bit of nervousness. "Are... are you joking?" she asked nervously, standing in front of this bold older man, feeling like she had the upper hand, at least slightly.

"Not at all," he replied, smiling, unaffected by her doubt. "This might surprise you, though I suspect deep down it doesn't, but I'm actually very, VERY popular with women. And I'm not talking about old, easy whores at the bar, although they serve their purpose. I'm talking about young, tight, gorgeous women. Women your age, some even a couple years younger."

"Somehow, I seriously doubt that," Lacey replied. This guy was, quite frankly, a pig. She didn't like talking so negatively at people, but he was rude, and disrespectful, and he had repeatedly made lewd comments about her body. He seemed very happy to be well past the point of redemption, talking this way about young women. Girls these days were so much worldlier and more confident. She seriously questioned how any girl would allow herself to be charmed by this old dinosaur.

"But I must say..." he continued, undaunted, looking her up and down before looking at her breasts once again. "I think you got all those other girls beat. I mean wow... what a body. Your husband's a lucky man... but I'm luckier, of course." The young blonde again pulled her coat around herself to cover up as best she could, not giving this leering old man a glimpse. "Oh, c'mon... you know exactly what you're doing. Bouncing that hot ass and those big tits of yours around me. You wanted me to notice. You wanted me to make comments. You wanted me to look at you..." There was a long, tense pause between them, until she finally spoke up again.

"I..." she began, nervous, looking away. Maybe this had gone too far. Maybe, in trying to see the best in him, she'd only encouraged this behavior. Obviously, she didn't want any of this, and the thought that she'd encouraged him in any way was clearly wishful thinking. "I think I should leave. And you should be ashamed of yourself." He grinned, unaffected by her stinging criticism.

"I tell you what..." he began, setting down his empty beer can and standing up. He was now towering over her, making her feel small under his stare. "You might not think it, but I'm an open-minded man. I'm completely open to a, uh... Christmas miracle." His words said one thing, but his body language said another, as he struggled to say those words with a straight face. "I am ready to be convinced about the power and the spirit of Christmas. And I want it to be you who does the convincing. But it will take something extra special for me to change my mind. So..." he paused and looked right at the young wife, and she shivered at his ice-cold stare, slightly afraid of what he was about to say. "Let me give you a gift. A Christmas gift. Something to prove I am what I say I am. And if you accept the gift, and you take to it, like I think you will, like I think you're dying to, then well... I'll put up lights and wreaths and all that other stupid shit. Deal?" He looked her down, his expression vague. She looked up at him, unsure, still clutching her coat tight around her.

"Gift?" she said, backing up slightly, still hoping to win this old man over despite everything. But she was not sure where this was going, and she was not sure if she was gonna like it.

"Well, the way all the girls go crazy over it, it's got to be a gift," he said, smirking, before reaching down to his zipper.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Wait!" she said, as the older man's calloused fingers undid his belt and the button on his jeans before pulling down the zipper. Despite knowing immediately what she was about to see, Lacey wasn't able to look away. She was stunned into silence. Like a car crash she could see coming, she didn't want to see what came next, but she couldn't not look. The older man was undeterred as he yanked down his jeans, exposing his grey boxer-brief clad bulge.

And what a bulge it was.

Jutting out from his crotch and moving towards his hip was what appeared to be a salami, judging by the size of it, thick and straining for escape. Massively lengthy, and thick as her wrist, Lacey could practically see it throbbing through the thin briefs. It was huge! At this sight, the young wife began to panic, and she immediately moved to leave.

This had gone WAY too far.

"I need to go..." she said, finally turning away from the older man, and beginning to walk away.

"You're gonna wanna see this..." he called out to her. She didn't want to see that... thing... despite how massive it appeared to be.

"I don't think I do," she said, glancing back at him one last time as she addressed him, ready to turn the corner.

"Wait!" he called out to her, his hands stopping what they were doing. She was one step away from being out of sight of him for good. One step away from walking away from this wicked old scrooge, never to return. But because she was a good person, part of her, despite all of this, wanted to see the best in him. He'd stopped when she'd asked him to, so maybe he realized he'd crossed a line. Wanted him to realize and atone for the mistakes he was making. And for that reason alone, she gave him a chance.

"What are you doing?" the young blonde called out angrily from the edge of the living room, eyes glancing at the older man's crotch, despite herself. The front of his jeans was splayed open and they were lowered slightly, leaving his massive bulge still exposed. Not all the way exposed, she'd stopped him before he'd gotten that far, but she could see a pretty clear outline of the weapon he was working with. She didn't want to look, but something that big and imposing was impossible to look away from.

"This is what all your teasing did to me," he replied, reaching down to give his iron bar a few quick strokes. She could practically see it throbbing through his boxer-briefs.

"Teasing?" she asked, trying and failing to pull her eyes from his barely-clothed weapon. She knew this was wrong, and she should just leave. And most importantly, she should look away from that... thing. But she still hoped to win him over to the side of Christmas, and plus... that thing in his pants... it was really big! She'd never seen anything close to that size. Not even close. She was the last girl you'd expect to be affected by such a thing, but... damn. How could an old man like him have such a massive dick? It couldn't be real. He had to be stuffing his shorts or something. For a second, she almost wished he had finished taking it out, just to prove if it was real or fake. But she pushed that thought away, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.