Stocking Fillers
by Mouna Lott and T. H. Rusty
Copyright 2011 Mouna Lott and Thomas Halton Rusty
artwork and photography by Mouna Lott © 2011
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Discover other titles by Mouna Lott and T.H. Rusty at http://www.smashwords.com
Title : 'Brief Encounters http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/93774
Title: 'Sex Games 2' http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92625
Title 'Sex Games http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92622
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by
Mouna Lott
I am going to make this the most memorable Christmas ever. He said let's do a really special surprise for each other on Christmas day. Anyway, he's popped out, I think to get my present. So I've got everything ready.
One very large box which I've carefully wrapped in sparkly paper and added a huge bow to. I'm just getting the finishing touches on. I've wriggled into the red fur edged peekaboo bra and tiny red fur trimmed thong, suspender belt and red stockings, six inch black stiletto heels. I look pretty hot. I love these kind of undies, they make me feel really sexy. I'm getting wet just from feeling how my tits are caught in the tight squeezey bra and the patsies with the long tassels that cover my nipples. When I take the bra off I can twirl the pasties like I do when I'm working at the lap dance club. That's where I met Keith. He's a bouncer there. It was lust at first site when he started two months ago and now we're a hot couple and I'm ready for some good Christmas stuffing! He knows I don't muck about with the clients. Just do my job and get out of there. It's enough money. I don't do the back room sessions.
I've just put on the furry christmas hat. I've been performing the Christmas routine for the last few weeks with the other lap dancers but Keith's never seen it because he's on the door. There, that looks perfect! Now I have to move the huge box down stairs into the front room.
Here we go. I'll put it right here in front of the Christmas tree, I love all those lights flashing away. It'll add a nice background stage to my one-on-one show for him.
Oh! I can hear the key turn in the lock. I'll just clamber into the box and if I pull on these two strings I can close the lid down. There we are. A bit of a squash, especially with the boogie box in here. Ouch! I've sat on one of the spiky heels which is sticking in my ass, but I can't change position now.
He's saying hello. Tee hee! He's going to be so surprised. Now he'll get to experience the joy I bring with my work. He'll love it! I think that's the living room door opening. Yes! He's calling my name. I can hear him breathing heavily.
OK here goes, I turn the boogie box on and...
'Surprise!' I say, springing up like a jack in the box, my firm tits jiggling up and down from the movement, the pasties twirling, arms above my head, big smile on my face.
Which freezes as I look from Keith to his best mate struggling to bring in a huge Plasma TV screen in the door. Never mind that it's an amazing telly! It's off the back of a lorry no doubt! What about me? How do you think I feel standing here showing my assets off to more than I bargained for. They're both standing goggling! My face is now as red as my costume.
The music keeps playing the old Jackson 5 number I've chosen: 'Give Love on Christmas Day' and I've got this fixed smile on my face that's turning into a grimmace. I suddenly know exactly what am I going to do. The show must go on! I do my hip swaying provocative dance, step out of the box and begin the whole routine. They’ve put the telly down and are sitting on the sofa gaping like fish with unblinking eyes. Bra off and the pasties take the guys' eyes with them, round and round like playing with a toy in front of a kitten. I don't have a pole but it doesn't stop me high kicking, bending and gyrating.
I move in on Keith's mate, giving him the slow crawl down his body 'til I'm level with his crotch. I go through that sexy tease suggesting I want his cock out in my mouth, sliding my hand across his enormous bulge, feeling him quiver. I move back up and squeeze my tits together right in front of his face, straddling him and rubbing my hot little pussy against that manhood of his trapped inside his jeans. Standing up above him I rub my pussy through the fabric and then step lightly across to Keith. My thighs are level with his mouth and I release the fastening and whip the thong off to show him my neatly shaved pussy, all wet and willing.
He licks his lips but before he can move in on me I slide back down rubbing my breasts against his front sinking onto his lap until my pussy connects with that big gun he's got stuffed in his jeans, ready to shoot his live ammunition into my sopping throbbing honey pot. I hear him growl when I make a move to unzip him and he springs up, grabs me by the waist and guides me out of the room into the bedroom to a round of applause from his mate. For the first time since I started lap dancing I get to take someone into the back room.
I pick up where I left off, easing his massive hard on out of the boxers and give it a big lick.
'Happy Christmas Keith,' I say and enclose him in my mouth.
'Yeh, baby. You certainly surprised me,' he replies
I'm sucking away but stop to say 'Not half as much as the surprise you gave me, bringing your mate round!'
Yes, this is a whole lot of love on Christmas day.
by
T.H. Rusty
Christmas eve. 8:35pm.
Snow gently floats down from the sky, coating the city in a blanket of winter wonderland. Festive lights glow around every corner, greens and reds lighting the sky. Marching through this biscuit tin version of the holidays is Michael, his arms tucked under his coat. Unlike everyone else he is passing tonight his head is not looking up at the lights and sparkle. His head is down, nestled deep in his scarf.
To anyone passing him he looks like a guy who doesn't enjoy the cold, or perhaps this time of season. In actual fact he loves this time of year. Problem is, he's forgotten to buy one last present. Late working nights and deadlines upon deadlines have not left Michael with much time for the little things. Things like this, making sure he has everything ready for when the family turn up and the awkward conversations begin. But of course he's forgotten Aunt Violets present.
Throwing himself in to the nearest shop his mission is simple: find anything. It's not like any of them really look at the gifts you give them anyway, it's symbolic more than thoughtful. Dusting the remnants of snow from his coat he scans the department store looking for something quick and easy to buy, so to spend as little time on this as possible. As he continues to look around though his eyes glance over a young thin man dressed poorly as an elf. Big mistake. With alarming speed the elf rushes over, arms almost glued to his side. His smile is wide and beaming, seeming incredibly fake at this time of night. His well gelled hair catches every speck of light, blinding Michael in an instant.
'And a good evening and merry Christmas to yourself sir! Can I help you with anything tonight?'
His energy startles Michael in to life, probably the result of far too much coffee and not a lot of sleep.
'Oh no, just browsing thanks.'
'Well do take your time, and if you need ANYTHING at all, don't hesitate to find me.'
Michael looks around awkwardly for a second, trying not to look him in the eyes again.
'Ok, will do.'
The elf sprints off in search of other desperate prey leaving Michael to find this illusive present. The problem Michael thinks is not that he hasn't a clue what she's like...just he has no idea what she LIKES.
His saviour though comes in the form of a bored looking woman behind the jewellery counter. Leaning over and admiring the shiny trinkets, he can't help but peek down her top. While on the thin guy the elf costume looked ill fitting, on her it is perfect. Tightly formed around her it looks like her bust is ready to explode out of it. She looks up as he walks over, a small 'how can I help' smile works its way across her face. Pulling herself upright he is allowed a better look at her. The stretchy material makes her look like the best present ever, her auburn hair tied up as if they are her bow...
'And what can I help you with today sir?' she asks, an air of sarcasm to her voice.
'A late present for an Aunt who I am pretty sure won't even look at it,' he replies, his eyes wandering dangerously low.
'Well then, I think I have just what you need, follow me'.
Smiling as she turns around Michaels eyes wander down to the green foil like skirt as it barely contains her ass. He's followed far worse he thinks to himself. She leads him round the corner to what he only can think is the loading bay, pallets and boxes strewn everywhere.
'So....do all the late night shoppers get this treatment?' he asks.
'Oh shut up and get in here,' she orders.
Pushing him up against the side of a small office she kicks the door shut and jumps on him, grabbing his arms in the process.
'We don't have a lot of time,' she whispers to him as her lips brush his ear, nibbling slightly as his hands follow round her body.
'Fine by me,' he hastily replies, his hands feeling down her body to the edges of her skirt.
Her hands get to work in the same way, following down his body and working away on his belt. Their kisses are hard, lustful, an explosion of passion. For every connecting kiss there are several that end in small bites, licks and bruises. There is no pandering to romantic notions here.
'Pick me up, now!' she orders again, locking eyes in that way that means business.
'Yes ma'am!'
His hands reach down and hitch the skirt high, feeling the curve of her ass as his fingers hem around the edge of her panties.
'Side tie baby.'
He needs no more incentive. Quickly undoing the sides, her panties flutter to the floor, maybe this was where the bow was really.
Her hands have also worked their magic on his lower half, his trousers just 'magically' now lying around his ankles. Her hands are warm to the touch, making short work of his ever increasing manhood. He could have thought about anything right now and it wouldn't matter, he's getting hard and it is good. Her hands slide up and down his shaft slowly, massaging him again and again. He can feel the blood drain from his body in to his cock, aching to be used. His fingers ease her pussy open to prepare her, and she doesn't need much. His fingers are already wet as he slides one in, the whispers of hair pointing him to the good spot. He can feel the heat radiating off her pussy, begging for more.
In one movement she hops up on Michael and kisses him deeply, wrapping her legs around him high up his body. His hands move to his own cock and lead it to the sweet spot, much to her joy. He eases in to her, feeling her muscles let him in, but only just. His eyes roll back as the feeling over comes him, her body doing everything in its power to pull him in. He feels his cock shudder and grow to it's limits, filling her and causing her to moan out wildly. He can feel her legs tighten around his sides as he pushes deeper in to her. She picks herself up and begins to really push down on him, her ass slapping down harder and harder. She kisses him harder and harder, the pace quickening as their bodies work in unison.
'You back here Eve? We've got people waiting,' a voice calls out.
Both of them freeze in an instant, and before they know it they are giggling to themselves. She pushes down on him a few more times, slowing the pace as they look at each other. Sliding off him she keeps her eyes locked.
'Well, I guess I better get back out there...see you at home?'
Michael smiles at her, brushing her cheek.
'Of course, but could you do me a favour?'
'Honey we don't have time to finish,' she laughs.
'Not that you minx...but could you get me a present for Auntie Violet?'
She smiles at him one more time before kissing again.
'Merry Christmas baby.'
by
Mouna Lott
The first time I ever did it was at the back of a beach in a pine wood. We were both on family holidays. We were both eighteen and about to go off to college. That one idyllic summer of love. We proclaimed our love to each other under the starry sky. We made love outdoors. The rough bark against my back, our fumbling impatient fingers. The intoxicating smell of tree resin in the rain. Well an English summer does suggest wetness. I was always wet that summer. Wet clothes from the rain. Wet kisses. Wet between my legs from my desire. Wet panties. He was always hot. Hot breath, smouldering eyes filled with lust. Hot hands running over my damp skin. Hot kisses. Hot cock pressing into my wet pussy. We were opposites. He was Apollo to my Venus. We planned our future of love, talked of meeting up at Christmas after our first term at college. We made so many plans with sparkling eyes and broad smiles. Plans that never happened.
We would lie for hours in those pine woods, the rain falling softly through the bladed leaves. Some days we'd make love so sweetly the birds would sing around us, a wood pecker's hammering against those mighty Scots Pines which moaned in soft breezes echoing with our whispered sighs. Our cries of lust catching in the high branches.
But it's the smell of the pines, kneeling in needles with his hot throbbing cock in my mouth that can trigger memories every Christmas, igniting my lost love for him forever.
I bought a synthetic Christmas tree that first year I married, because I married someone else. A great guy, good father, but they say you always remember your first love. I've tried so hard to forget mine. Never use pine fresh in the bathroom, always floral fragrances, floral shampoos, musky aftershaves for my husband Paul.
But this Christmas Paul decided we should get a real tree, six foot tall with beautiful spreading branches. The old synthetic tree was too shabby, he said. I thought about it and decided that after eight years and having two kids, now five and three, I really ought to be over that feeling. It's just a smell after all.
So off I go in the car to a garden centre on the outskirts of town to get it. We live a few miles from the market town in an old farmhouse. The twisting country roads are icy and it's threatening snow. Perhaps this year we will have snow for Christmas. The kids would love that. They break up from school and nursery tomorrow so I'm trying to get everything organised before mayhem begins and their over excitement leads to sleepless nights.
I drive slowly, the ice has brought curling tendrils of fog around the high hedges on the country lanes and I have put the fog lights on. I breathe a sigh of relief when I turn off into the garden centre. It's one where all the trees and shrubs are planted out in fields and you have to have one of the gardeners come and dig up what you chose. It's the same for the Christmas trees they sell.
There are Christmas lights all around the building but I wander off down one of the icey pathways to choose a tree. That's when it hits me. That sharp fresh smell of pine and my heart flutters. I touch the soft needles of the nearest tree and inhale deeply. I feel the tightening in my stomach as the memory of his hands on me floods back. I walk deeper through the regimented rows running fingers along the sap-filled rough trunks. The sensation triggers the memories. I remember him so clearly.
Then I suddenly feel it, that tingling sensation that someone is watching you and I look up, peering into the mist. There he is! It's him, I'd recognise him anywhere. How weird that he's here. How amazing to see him today after all this time. It must be my imagination.
I look again and he's still there, walking towards me not looking a day older than when we were lovers. His golden hair curling around his broad shoulders radiates in the cold air. The blue eyes like pools of azure sea, shine. That easy walk of his, oozing sexual prowess, godlike.
'Ruth,' he exclaims in that strong soft voice which caresses my ears.
I stand rooted to the spot, like a tree caught out of line, out of place.
'Gabriel?' I whisper and then before I know it my legs run toward him, my arms welcome him and my hot kisses fall upon his neck. Every thought of my life forgotten, obliterated by his presence. He hands feel cold against my neck and my kisses are returned passionately, damply in this misty grove.
Before I can think my gloves and hat are discarded and my hair tumbles about, damp in the cold. Our hands find each other, grope through the layers of thick clothing in a flurry. Fumbling we release inner garments and wrap our coats around each other's nakedness. He turns me to rest against a sapling and it bends to our weight. His hands squeeze my breasts, pinch the nipples already hard from the cold but now aroused from his touch and tongue exploring my mouth. He tastes salty. I feel his cock spring to life under my impatient fingers and moan my want.
His hands play down my belly and reach my forest grove. He slips a finger in to feel wetness flooding out of my pussy. Gently his fingers flutter over my clit before delving back in to my desire, my juice noisy to his touch. I guide his hard cock to my garden and plant his throbbing tool there. He moves and ploughs into me with a sharp intake of breath. The sapling against my back scratches at my neck and that heady smell of pine invades every trembling nerve in my body. An orgasm throbs through me and my pulsing pussy walls grab at his busy tool.
He moves gently deeper into my pleasure garden lifting me physically to fill me up. I moan as my clit connects with the base of his shaft and the spasms of another orgasm take over. I buck against him, taught, clinging to his shoulders. He becomes urgent, faster and faster until we both cry out together with joy as his come spurts into me. He holds me to him and whispers in my ear just as the sapling breaks and we tumble to the ground.
Then he's gone. I'm lying on the hard frosty path, the broken sapling under me and a man standing above looking down at me, concern etched in the lines of his face.
'Are you all right miss?' he asks. 'Gave me quite a turn seeing you fall like that.'
I'm panting, feeling the pulsing orgasm subside as I gaze around in disbelief. I look down at my clothes but the wool coat is done up tight. He holds out a gloved hand to help me up. I'm shaking and cold as a corpse.
'I'm sorry about your tree,' I say, my voice comes out unnaturally high, squeaky.
'Not to worry, you must have slipped on the path. It's the ice, we can't salt the path or we'll damage the trees.'
'I'll take this one though,' I say to him pointing at the broken tree.
He picks it up and studies it. 'It's a good looking specimen of Douglas Fir, not damaged except at the base. I'll just tidy it up for you in the store and get it wrapped in netting. You sure you're OK?'
'I'm fine,' I reply. 'I just want to walk a little.'
The gardener moves off with the tree and I look about me. Gabriel's gone, like that last day of summer all those years ago. I'd waited on the beach next to his clothes for ages before raising the alarm. They said it was a unusual rip tide that took him. He was a strong swimmer. They found his body the next day. The memory is so strong again but this time it's different. His voice still whispering those words in my ear, a ghost of the past.
'Love life.'
I feel a sense of peace within me for the first time since that fateful day and the smell of the pines suddenly makes me happy. I walk back to store.
I squeeze the bound tree into the bench seat at the back of the car and get in. As I drive back suffused with it's aromatic smell I smile. Spectral flakes of snow fall on the windscreen and the wipers brush them aside.
I start thinking about how we will dress the tree together that evening, Paul, me and the kids. I have finally said goodbye to my ghost from my past. Gabriel is placed carefully in my heart where it no longer hurts. He is not lost, he will be a happy part of each Christmas and I can look forward to that with my loving family.
by
T.H. Rusty
Sandra placed the tray of cookies on the table, joining its brethren covering every empty space in her kitchen. It's not that Sandra enjoyed the conveyor belt of sugary treats, it was because everyone else at this time of year does. Christmas is one of those times that allows people to just go crazy, pig out, undo the belt and let gluttony take over. Sandra looked down at the latest batch of cookies and thought to herself, if she coated herself in chocolate and sugar would she be as desirable?
The life of the book store owner doesn't leave a lot of time to socialise, especially around this time of year. People seem to throw themselves in her shop for that last minute present for someone they barely know. In those instances people come to a book store, because, who can say no to a good classic? Or at least pretend to be thankful for it.
The life of a book store owner is also not exactly a rich affair, she considers. She knows she isn't scraping by, but it's not exactly high life living. Hence the cookies. Cookies or gingerbread men or cupcakes are a great way to get a present out of the way for a fraction of the price. Also people seem to think that you have put effort in to it, making it a heartfelt gift.
Utter rubbish, baking is easy and cheap. Sandra moved one of the cooler batches in to a box and carefully wraps, placing it next to the rest on her dining room table. The collection of smells swirls around her, tickling her taste buds and making her daydream of old family get togethers. Sealing the box with a soft ribbon she attaches a small card with just a name on it.
'David'.
David has been Sandra's neighbour for around four months now and the only conversation she has been able to bring herself to say is about trivial items of the day. The weather, how work is, what he is cooking for dinner to name a few. It's not that she doesn't want to talk, she wants to talk to him every second of every day, she just can't. A life of work and more work hasn't left her very forward and it's a rut she has found herself in for quite some time. This little gift is her way to try and make an impact, seem like a 'normal' person in her eyes. At least, that's what she hopes it will do.
Double checking the latest batch out of the oven she motions to the mirror to check herself one last time before going to his door. She's a natural blonde, dark not strawberry, and hasn't done much to her appearance all day. Owning the shop means overall appearance goes out the window, hence the incredibly un-ironed shirt, she thinks to herself. And the fact her socks do not match. Neither does her underwear. Trying to straighten out her shirt out she catches her eye in the mirror. She hasn't done anything like this for a long time, not since Simon walked out because of her 'commitments'. Ever since then she has just got on by, not really looking out for 'that' guy. Until he came along.
Sandra still isn't 100% sure what he does, something in the financial district if she remembers correctly. A tall man who never seems to wear anything more professional than a polo shirt, he instead wears an air of irresponsibility she finds exciting. Maybe it is because she is so cautious that this makes her weak at the knees, or maybe it is just that she can't get his image out of her head. Those thin lips in desperate need of kissing, eyes that could burn a million dirty thoughts in her mind.
She snaps out of her daydream as she hears floorboards creaking outside. Her heart skips a beat as she can hear him get out and subsequently drop his keys. Only now does she fret, can she do this? He might have a boyfriend or not 'like' girls or have had a bad day or anything! 'Don't be a chicken Sandra, do it' she thinks to herself. Flinging the door open she is confronted with David, bent over picking up his keys. He sheepishly looks over at her, shopping bags at his feet.
'Hey, sorry, did I disturb you?' he asks, that smile already making her melt away.
'Oh no! I...I...'
'Yes?'
'I just wanted to give you this as a Christmas present and hope you enjoy and that you will probably go away so I hope you have a good Christmas and I hope you like these and...well, yea.'
David blinks a couple of times in silence, his eyes locked on her.
'Well that was certainly different.'
Sandra blushes every shade of red imaginable, her outburst not at all in keeping with how she presents herself. She awkwardly shuffles her feet in the silence.
'But, thank you.'
She begins to move round and re-enter her apartment, trying to keep from exploding with embarrassment.
'Sandra?'
She turns to his voice while thinking to herself, 'God I wish I heard that every morning'. Returning to face him she sees he has opened his door and is reaching inside.
'I got you something too, just as a thank you.'
'A thank you for what?' she asks, searching through her memories to think of anything she has helped him with.
'Well for welcoming me here, making me feel at home and...'
'Yes?'
'Thank you for being the first thing to make me smile in the day.'
Sandra turns a shade of red never seen before as David hands her a small box. Small and purple she eyes is as David looks on.
'Well go on, open it!'
Nervously she opens the box, not truly expecting what she'll find.
Opening it up she sees a small flower, dried but recognisable.
'I needed an excuse, so thought mistletoe would be a good present.'
She looks up at his eyes, smiling broadly.
'The best.'
Pulling in to each other David gently places his arm around her and kisses. Sandra feels like her entire body has been given an electric shock, goose bumps upon goosebumps. His lips feel warm to hers, like when you dip your toe in to a warm bath and feel instantly relaxed. She slips her hand also round his, feeling his shape as they pull closer. She'd always dreamt of this and now here it was, and she wasn't wasting a minute.
Their kissing becomes more frantic, heated, passionate. Their hands swarm over each other like they are mapping every inch of each other. She bites his lip, smiling as she does so. It is like a dream to her, getting what she wanted. His hands reach up and cup her face, holding her close as he kisses deeply. She allows herself the luxury of her tongue to explore his, gently at first but soon as entwined as their bodies. She finally pulls away from him for a second to think, to collect her thoughts.
'Well that certainly was a good Christmas present...what I always wanted,' she smiles as she speaks.
'Do I smell baking?' asks David?
Sandra lets out a loud laugh to his surprise.
'David, you have no idea.'
'Well mind if I join in?'
She looks at him again, then down at the mistletoe.
'It would make my Christmas!'
by
Mouna Lott and TH Rusty
Nick scowled on his way to meet the lads down the local. He’d been working the second job for six weeks and tomorrow was his last day. Working day and night without pause had left him exhausted and unable to fulfil his duties as a mate. Thinking about it, he didn't even remember the last time they’d all gone out together. He hoped they wouldn't ask what he'd been up to.
He walked into the pub and immediately the cold December air was replaced by the yeasty smell of spilled beer in the garish carpet heightened by the warmth of a bar full of patrons. Tinsel groped every lamp and a large Christmas tree had squeezed itself in between the cramped dark wood tables. The noise ricocheted off the tiny interior and he heard the unmistakable howl of his brother laughing. He wandered over to the table and smiled at the guys sitting with their drinks. They clocked the festive bag.
‘Ho ho ho! And where have you been hiding? Are those our presents in that sack?’ laughed his mate Josh.
Nick hesitated for a minute standing awkwardly wondering whether he should tell them .
‘Not a chance! I haven't been working a second job, been slaving away day and night so I can throw gifts at you buggers. I'm being a good dad this year.’ he said defensively.
‘Hey drinks are on Nick!’ said Carl, lifting his beer to salute Nick. His other mates cheered.
‘Not likely. Every penny is for Christmas guys. Kid's presents and the food. I've paid for all that. Then there's the new baby coming in less than a month now. It’s not like I’m paid THAT well,’ backtracked Nick, beginning to wonder if he should have just gone home to the small two bedroomed flat on the sink hole estate he wanted to move away from.
Something about his demeanour stopped his friends urging him to the bar for another round and Nick relaxed, knowing that they understood. He sat down on the stained velvet covered chair and looked around. Jimmy, his brother stood up.
‘What do you want Nick? My shout.'
‘A Guinness thanks,’ he replied.
‘So come on Nick, let us in man. What's with the secrecy?’ asked Josh picking up his drink and and taking a swig.
‘It's not that big a secret really. I'm Santa Claus in Handleys, the toy shop in the precinct. One day to go, then I'm done, if you must know,’ said Nick quietly. There was a pause to the conversation, followed quickly by an outburst of laughter.
‘You got to be joking!’ said Josh when he controlled himself.
'Oh it's Saint Nick!’ laughed Alex. ‘Better get enough booze down you so you can get that stomach going.’
'Do you have a nice saucy little elf to help? Getting in some over time with her?' Carl smirked.
'Carole isn't like that. It's just a job,' Nick mumbled.
'Ha ha Saint Nick and a Christmas Carol,' laughed Jimmy hearing the end of the conversation. He placed the pint glass in front of Nick.
While the others laughed Nick shrank self consciously into himself. Actually, Carole was like that. He'd resisted her blatant advances and gorgeous body for six weeks. She was the most tempting creature he'd ever encountered.
His body was the antitheses of a father Christmas figure, slim, toned sharp angles to his face and a carefully groomed shock of blond hair. Only twenty three, he had a wife and two kids while mates of his age were still single, into one night stands and clubbing. He smiled to himself because he loved his family and was determined to get enough cash together to make it special. They didn’t understand that he's hung up his philandering hat and was now the dutiful husband.
It didn't stop him fantasising about Carole though. Carole was gorgeous. He'd had a few wet dreams over the last few weeks where she'd been in the act of giving him a perfect blow job. Even thinking about it now got him horny.
He drank his beer slowly, listening to his friends talking about Christmas and New Year plans and which girls they were seeing. He drained his glass and got up to leave.
'Have another,' said Josh getting money out of his jacket.
'No thanks, I've got to get over to the club. There's a big office party tonight and my shift starts in half an hour. Jimmy, I'll see you Christmas lunch at mum's, have a great Christmas guys,' he said shrugging his way into his jacket and heaving the bag onto his shoulder.
The evening went quickly in it's busy fever of Christmas indulgence. Nick felt left out, grown up before his time. The music pulsed through him and he strained to hear the requests for drinks from the party goers, the flirting girls clad in skimpy tops showing off ample cleavages and skirts barely covering their panties. He got off at three and braced himself for the couple of kilometres he'd walk home with the cold northerly wind chilling his bones. The night bus was a half hour wait so he'd be home before it even got to the bus stop. He collapsed into bed beside Sharon after a perfunctory shower. Her ample warm sleepy body snuggled into his murmuring in her sleep. Knackered from the being on the go for twenty hours he crashed out.
It felt like he'd only just closed his eyes for a second when he was woken up by his son jumping up and down on the bed shouting and singing, ‘Rudolf the red nosed reindeer’ over and over at the top of his voice. He smiled, knowing it would be noisier tomorrow when they opened all the presents that they’d asked for in their Santa letters.
He crawled into some fresh clothes and wandered into the tiny kitchen. Sandra was boiling the kettle still in her dressing gown, her large body showing the new life she carried. She had let herself go after their second was born. The slim body and long hair that had got him hooked at eighteen had been replaced by a short bob that was in need of attention and a body that squeezed into the size eighteen maternity clothes she needed. He loved her whatever size she was, she was always up for it when they got the chance. She was a great mum to the kids and always managed to feed them and get the bills paid without getting into debt unlike some of the other families on the estate.
‘We don’t need to go round my mum’s before midday tomorrow do we?’ he asked wrapping his arms around her and kissing the back of her neck. ‘I want to give you an early morning Christmas present while the kids are occupied. I’m so hot for you my cock is going to explode.’
‘Well I need to give your mum a hand with the cooking. She’s not getting any younger and with this being the first Christmas without your dad she'll need the support. It's not like your Jimmy's going to be much help. There's a lot to do.’
He nibbled her ear lobe and snuck a hand inside the towelling robe rubbing it over her swollen belly and up to cup a melon sized breast in his hand.
‘`I love it when you talk practical,’ he joked.
She pushed him away laughing, her body wobbling, breasts swaying, visible where he had pulled at the drawn robe.
‘Maybe when Santa comes home early tonight he’ll find a present waiting in his sack,’ she said opening the dressing gown completely and holding both breasts towards him and rubbing them. Her large rounded belly hid her snatch from view but his cock stirred, thinking of how good it was to push his manhood into her from behind. Her pussy was so tight from protecting the baby it was his favourite time to have her. He ran a hand over the bump and down between her legs to stroke her pussy lips.
‘You keep that hot for me gorgeous,’ he whispered feeling her wetness from his gentle stroking.
‘Oh Nick. I love you. You know I’m really proud of you doing this extra work for us. I miss you so much,’ she said kissing him, big blue eyes staring into his.
‘But we can have time together after New Year honey,’ he whispered.
‘Fat chance silly. The baby’s due then. It’ll be sleepless nights and all hands on deck,’ she laughed turning the caress into a cuff around the head as though knocking some sense back into a love sick puppy.
Their eldest marched in to the kitchen and the robe closed swiftly before he saw anything.
‘I want breakfast,' he shouted wrapping himself around his mum’s leg.
‘I’ll leave you to it pet,’ Nick said. He drank a quick cup of tea, pecked a kiss on her distracted face and hurried to get to the bus into town. He smiled to himself. He might not be going out with the lads much but he loved the kids, and Sharon was still good fun even if it was quickies or the odd night when the kids were with grand parents or having afternoon naps. His bar job meant that Sharon was usually asleep when he came home. But life was good and he had fun working the bar at the club. He never started before eight which gave him time usually before the kids went to bed to kick a ball with them or take them swimming. When they were old enough for school he’d have days free in the summer holidays to take them out. Working this extra day job had sapped his energy but he didn’t resent it. He was excited to see the looks on the kids faces tomorrow.
He arrived at the shopping centre and skirted round the carol singers collecting for some charitable cause. The festive decorations in the atrium were a bit tacky but he hardly noticed and it didn’t dampen his spirits. It was his last day, he’d done it and would make Christmas and the new baby arriving extra special. He wasn’t working the bar tonight so he’d be snuggled up with Sharon once the kids had worked themselves into an exhausted sleep, the presents left under the tree and stockings at the end of the bed. Then he could slip into her in their comfortable bed and give her the special Christmas gift he’d been planning. He began humming a Christmas song.
At the store he went and changed in the staff area and out loud carried on singing,
‘.. kissing Santa Claus...’ stripping down to his Calvin Klein underwear and pulling the enormous red trousers with their ridiculously elasticated waist on.
‘Underneath the mistletoe last night...’ he strapped the stomach cushion around his middle and shrugged the jacket over his broad shoulders.
‘Oh they didn’t hear me creep...’ next the beard and the hat. He scowled when he saw himself in the mirror. One gorgeous young man turned into an overweight middle-aged loser.
'Down the stairs to have a peek...’ he wandered into the synthetically snowy grotto, the flashing lights twinkling around and then he stopped, open mouthed.
‘Hello Saint Nick, my favourite father figure,' the beautiful girl walking towards him said smiling. The skimpy red dress with the bands of white fur on the edges accentuated every asset she had on her perfectly proportioned body.
‘Hi Carole, how's my little helper today?' he blushed self consciously.
‘I like the singing gorgeous. What do you think to the red stockings?' her silky voice replied, lifting the hem of the short dress revealing the white lacy tops to the red mesh hugging the long slim thighs. He caught a glimpse of red lacy panties covering her treasure and felt the urge to touch her yet again. She came very close to him. He could smell her intoxicating perfume. Her cleavage captured his thoughts. He dropped his gaze shyly but his eyes ran swiftly up from the long legs, to the skimpy fake velvet and white fur dress again stretched tight over those voluptuous curves. Despite all the feel-good family loyalty his cock stirred and rose to attention. He groaned quietly willing himself to resist just one more day.
‘Our last day together and I still haven't had the pleasure,' she said licking her lips suggestively.
'You know I'm not going to do anything,' he said hoarsely.
Nick took a deep breath and by not looking directly at her managed to get on with the job, sorting the presents into the girls' pile and a separate one for the boys. Occasionally her hand closed over the same gift wrapped box and he felt the charge of passion rise through his body. He'd close his eyes and will himself to stay controlled. It had been torment the last six weeks being so close to her. He'd told her right at the beginning that he had a wife and kids and didn't play around. Somehow, because of that it seemed, it had made her bolder and she'd tease him mercilessly allowing him glimpses of her breasts with their long hard nipples pressing against the red fabric. Or she'd bend down to reveal her firm ass covered by different lacy underwear. Six weeks of her long auburn hair falling across his arm or whipping around and catching his cheek. Six weeks of trying to avoid looking at her but finding himself furtively watching. Occasionally he caught her eye and found it impossible to look away from their smouldering gaze.
The dads particularly enjoyed hanging around near Carole. Nick wondered whether it was down to Carole’s body assets rather than being good dutiful dad that they came to the grotto. He tried his best to focus on the lines.
‘Have you been good?’ or ‘What is on your wish list?’
The last day crawled by and finally Nick watched the final group being led out by Carole. She was holding the children’s hands and bending a little forwards to hear their excited response. He could see the bare flesh where the skin would be silky soft and the red slash of lace panties. His cock strained towards her luscious form, throbbing, pressed against the fabric and his mind wandered to the fantasy that had played upon his mind every day where she was kneeling before him, taking his engorged member in her hands and kissing it with her full lips.
He got up and hurried to the men's changing room, removing the hat and beard, trousers and jacket, racing to get away from her before his body betrayed him. He sat down and the fantasy that had haunted the last six weeks took control. His hand dipped into his boxers and fingered his huge throbbing cock, the fake stomach still strapped to his waist. He shut his eyes and heard the door open. He looked round.
‘Well you are a good boy, getting ready for me,’ Carole purred closing the door, hips swaying teasingly as she walked towards him. A bottle of champagne and two glasses in one hand.
'Um, I have to go,' said Nick half heartedly.
'Not until I have given you your present,' she continued rubbing her free hand up and down her body accidentally lifting the the dress to show that the panties had disappeared revealing her mound with a tuft of auburn hair carefully tamed to hide her treasure. Nick stood gaping.
'I hope you like what you see Nick because it's Christmas come early,' she smiled opening the champagne and pouring two glasses. She leant forwards allowing a clear view of her breasts and handed him a glass of amber bubbles. He drank the wine too quickly, and spluttered as the bubbles tickled his throat. She filled his glass again her thigh resting against him, her hand holding his wrist to keep the glass still. She then placed the manicured hand on the padding which hid his engorged cock.
‘I don't think I’ll get anywhere near you with that stomach!’ she exclaimed touching his manhood straining beneath the fabric of his boxers. She stepped even closer swiftly reaching around his back to untie the cloth straps. She threw the padding aside and let her hands run over his strong chest. She pressed her red shiny lips to his nipple and let her tongue swirl around it, then ever so slowly began to lick down his chest. She lapped at his belly button before moving lower. She placed her fingers in the waistband of his shorts and released his huge cock gasping with delight, letting the boxers fall to the floor. Breathing heavily now he watched as her lust filled eyes looking up into his, her lips licked with desire.
He groaned. It was too much. His cock cried out to be enveloped by those velvet lips. He was speechless, gaping in his dilemma of lust and betrayal. Expertly her mouth sank onto his cock and her eyes caught his for consent.
'Oh yes,' he moaned, ‘oh yes please,’ holding her head gently, feeling his cock reach the back of her throat. She drew back to his rim and swirled her hungry tongue around allowing saliva to dribble onto his head. She blew on it lightly before consuming him inside her warm wet mouth again, moaning her desire. She felt his heavy balls, weighing them in her hands, then changed to hold his shaft and sucked his balls into her mouth. Her hands ran expertly up and down his rod bringing him closer to orgasm. Her pink tongue licked longingly up his engorged shaft twirling around his head, her eyes pleading with him.
'Oh baby I'm so hungry for you,' she whispered before plunging down onto his cock and consuming him deep within her mouth. She sucked and moved back to his tip and then down again. Her teeth brushed lightly against his muscle and he cried out
'Oh Carole! Carole, I've got to come, I'm close,'
Again and again she pulled back and went down on him until he felt his come surging up his shaft. He moaned again and she held his manhood, swallowing his first load before opening her mouth like a flower waiting for the rain. He watched as more and more spunk filled her mouth and sprayed her face, dribbling down her chin onto her cleavage. She watched the happiness flooding his face as he released his last seed. She continued to lick the come off his cock and around her swollen lips. She stood up with a hand still working his tool keeping it hard.
'Happy Christmas Nick,' she purred kissing his lips.
He couldn't stop now, all his thoughts flowed through muscle and nerves leaving his brain feeling light headed. His hands ran slowly over the dress, lifting it. He squeezed her ass pulling the cheeks apart and bringing her close to him. He felt the soft lace of the stocking tops as his fingers reached her pussy lips and rubbed at the entrance to her sopping wet love tunnel. He ran fingers lightly around the silky flesh, opening her gently, hearing her gasp. Her hand guided his thick hard member to the forbidden gate and he pressed forward into her wet warmth.
She moaned and her head flew back, eyes wide with desire as his cock reached the hidden depths of her.
'Oh Nick that feels so heavenly,' she crooned, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his hips to sink his cock deeper into her honey pot. He grabbed her other leg lifting her bodily off the ground and walked her over to the table in the corner. Pulling her legs onto his shoulders and raising her dress to her waist he watched his cock sliding in and out of her juicy hole. Her little jewel was standing to attention and he rubbed it gently with his finger while he pounded her with his rock hard rod. She cried and moaned, pulling her breasts free of the skimpy costume to squeeze her hard button nipples.
Nick took the instruction and leant forwards to lick them swirling his tongue around the aureoles and nibbling the cherry nipples turning them deeper red with her desire.
He leaned back again to watch his cock sliding in and out of her, marvelling at the small pussy lips holding his manhood so firmly her juice glistening on his shaft. The sight brought him too close and he moaned, rubbing at her pearl furiously wanting her come to connect with his.
'Oh Nick, please now,' she cried and he felt her orgasm spasm and her muscles pulsing inside her against his throbbing cock. It was the signal he'd been holding back for and his seed shot out deep into her honey pot. He rested against her panting body, waiting for their wave of love to subside.
'Oh wow,' Carole panted, 'that was amazing.'
He touched her warm flesh slipping the dress up over her head, freeing the long red hair until she was lying there in the red stockings and high heeled shoes. He bent down and parted her legs gazing at the beautiful flower like lips, dipping his tongue into the juice like a hummingbird reaching for nectar. His cock stirred again thinking how next to plunge into her body. She stiffened, thrusting her self towards his mouth, the orgasm lifting her body off the table in it's intensity, murmuring for him to take her.
Slipping off the table she turned and bent over allowing his cock to push quickly back into her pussy from behind. He could feel the spasms in her love tunnel muscles which brought desire throbbing back into his cock. He watched his cock thrusting deeply, effortlessly in and out of her while her body rubbed across the rough table arousing her again. It didn't take much to get him close to the edge this time so he withdrew to squeeze his shaft between her round buttocks and the last of his spunk shot across her arched back as he plunged fingers into to pussy to feel her orgasm suck at them, her come cascading over his hand.
'Oh baby you're the best,' she moaned lying, limply across the table.
He straightened and ran a hand softly down her body glistening with his come.
'Carole I really have to go,' he said apologetically closing his eyes.
'I know Nick,' she smiled. 'Like I said, a Christmas present, not a take away. Just for the present, that's why it's called a present. Now it will be a fond memory of the past.' She stood up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips then walked to the door and was gone.
He checked the time, shocked that it was nine o'clock, he must have fallen asleep. Nick began collecting his clothes. He stared at the door puzzled. Then turning his attention to home. He dressed, picked up his bag and raced for the bus. He took out his mobile, suddenly remembering he'd forgotten to turn it back on. There were two missed calls, one from Sharon and one from his mum. He tried his wife's number but got an unobtainable response. He dialled his mum's mobile.
'Where the hell are you Nick!' she said urgently.
'I'm on the bus, what's wrong?'
'The kids are fine. I'm looking after them at yours. Sharon's gone into labour early. Where have you been Nick? For pities sake get over to the hospital.'
'I fell asleep,' he said, panic rising. 'Is Sharon OK?'
'I don't know but she needs you now.'
All he could think about was that he should have been there for Sharon. He swore, rushed off the bus at the next stop, and ran back the way he'd come. His feet pounded along the pavement, heart thumping in his chest making it impossible to think. He didn't notice the cold snow falling rapidly which would normally have made him marvel. Snow for Christmas was a dream come true for his kids. He realized he was praying that Sharon would be OK.
'Please God make sure Sharon's safe. Save the baby but save Sharon first. She is everything to me!'
He dived across the main road towards the hospital and up the drive into the grim maternity unit with it's antiseptic smell, pale strip lighting and grey linoleum flooring. A surly nurse ushered him towards a delivery room, stopping him at the door, directing him to scrub up.
Sharon was lying there and reached out her hand to him. Sweat poured off her face but she managed to say between contractions, 'Oh Nick! Thank god you're here!' before moaning again and being instructed to breathe.
Time ticked on, all the while her sweat covered hand gripped his, vice-like. He should be exhausted but fear and adrenaline kept him wide awake. The monitors and bleeps told him that two lives were still beating, joined as one. His heart beat in it's own separate rhythm. Then quite suddenly the atmosphere changed and the midwife began instructing Sharon to push, breathe and push again. He stood and moved round to watch a miracle happen. The baby was coming.
At just after midnight a new sound of filled the room. His creation of life, his new born child. He felt the euphoria rise inside him which eclipsed any orgasm he'd ever had. Nothing was as wonderful a feeling as this. Joy overwhelmed him and tears coursed down his cheeks.
'You have a Christmas gift, a healthy baby boy,’ beamed the midwife.
Half an hour later Nick was sitting on the side of a bed in the ward holding a little bundle of sleeping baby his eyes still moist with emotion. Sharon was sleeping peacefully. He looked from baby to mother and back again. All the joyful Christmas Carols rolled through his head and he hummed softly to the baby in his arms, realising that this was what mattered and was what he lived for. Fantasies were fine, all those erotic thoughts of other women but life here had real meaning. He thought of how hard it had been to resist Carole and felt a surge of gratitude that the fantasies he'd imagined meant he sat here as a proud and loyal father and husband.
Quietly he whispered, 'you are the most precious present,' and kissed the tiny wrinkled forehead. Sharon stirred, opening her eyes and smiled up at him.
'Isn't he lovely Nick. we said we'd call him after your dad if he was a boy., she whispered.
He bent forwards and kissed her on the lips, 'Our little Christopher. I spoke to the doctors. They said if you want, you can come home today. It's your third baby and there's no complications. They understand how important it is to be with family. We can be with the kids. Mum's going to do Christmas dinner another day so you can enjoy today and take it easy.'
He kissed her again then gazed into her tired face, 'Sharon,' he whispered locking eyes with hers. 'You are everything to me.'
He moved the baby slightly in the crook of his arm and reached inside his jacket, retrieving a small box he'd been carrying around since he bought it a week ago. Gently he placed it in her hand. She opened it.
'It's an eternity ring,' he explained taking it out and placing it on her finger next to her wedding ring. 'You and me Sharon, forever. Nothing will ever come between us.'
She lifted her head from the pillow, hair plastered in rats tails to her head, the after pains still catching at her features, her belly still swollen and kissed him. Their lips connected with passion and he looked into her eyes knowing this was a perfect Christmas.
T.H. Rusty and Mouna Lott are both mainstream writers. A chance encounter in hyperspace produced a writing cohabitation in the ebook world of erotica. They have never met but continue to collaborate. If you enjoyed reading this check out their other works :
Brief Encounters- an Erotic Novella
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/93774
Sex Games 2- an anthology of erotic short stories
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92625
Smashwords Edition
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LottRusty
T.H. Rusty and Mouna Lott's erotic writing tells of average people struggling to survive in a complex world. The sexual encounters and fantasies happen in every day scenarios as the characters difficulties unfold. Their writing often combines different perspectives of the same event. Their short pieces range from humorous light-hearted tales to longer stories where characters struggle to redeem themselves. The encounters are always playful, steamy, hot and explicitly satisfying
http://www.mouna-lott.blogspot.com
http://www.thrustyuk.blogspot.com
mailto: mouna.lott@gmail.com
mailto:t_h_rusty@hotmail.com