“It’s the rule,” he said, sitting next to her. “Secret Santa, you see.”
She bit her lip. “I have a secret too.”
“I know,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. “You’re only at Club Chris because of your friend.”
Her jaw dropped. “How did …?” Then she giggled and tried to pull her hand back. “That beard tickles.”
Ignoring her protest he turned her hand to press warm lips in the centre of her palm. His eyes captured hers and her lips parted in a silent sigh, liquid heat surging through her and pooling between her thighs.
“Brown eyes,” she murmured, “this is giving Santa a very bad name …”
He chuckled. “You’re right, blue eyes.” He yanked off the hairy disguise and tossed it in the corner. “Fuck the rules.” He winked. “I hope you can keep a secret.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Won’t you get into trouble?”
“I already am,” he groaned, his gaze raking her face and scorching her breasts. “It’s against my own rules to fall in love.”
Her heart soared and she stared at him, unable to believe that this gorgeous man fancied her. As he bent his head toward her, her eyes fluttered closed to receive his kiss, but all he did was reach past her shoulder for the massage oil.
“Lift up your foot.”
Her eyes flew open in surprise but she obeyed him, twisting side-on to stretch one leg across his lap.
He poured some oil into his hand and smoothed it down her calf and along her foot, under the arch and in between her toes, one by one. “Your little foot is very sexy,” he murmured, smoothing and rubbing with sure, firm strokes.
Jenna sucked in a breath. No man had ever admired her feet before.
He looked at her. “You like this? It’s not uncomfortable?”
“If this is my punishment,” she groaned, “then …” she paused dramatically before flashing an open-mouthed smile of appreciation, “bring … it … on!”
He snatched up her other foot and growled, “OK, you asked for it!” chuckling as he heard her delighted sighs.
Edging closer, she whispered, “Thank you,” and covered his mouth with hers, nibbling, pressing, teasing. His hands cupped her face, demanding more, and she closed her eyes, smoothing her hands across his chest, twirling and pinching his tight brown nipples, her thigh bumping teasingly against the hard length of his silk-covered cock.
She moaned, his lips nuzzling her neck, his long fingers stroking her nipples, tweaking and flicking, shooting agonizingly sweet bullets of pleasure deep into her clit.
His hands encircled her waist to lift her onto the wide pool edge. “You’re so strong,” she gasped, as he eased her legs apart and buried his dark head between her thighs.
“Mmm. You’re so soft,” he said, feathering his tongue along her skin.
She burrowed into his hair, clutching handfuls, shocked by the heat of his tongue searing her swollen nub.
Whimpering at the sweet agony, she rubbed her fattened nipples, writhing as the waves of pleasure built and built and built.
The waves broke. Drawing in a ragged breath, her heart thumping, she sagged against him in joyous relief.
He raised his head and she reached for his waistband, sliding her hand in to seek and find.
“Suck me, darling,” he whispered, slipping off his boxers. “Just like I taught you.” He lifted her down into the water and heaved himself up to take her place.
She held his thickened penis in her left hand, massaging along the velvety length, tracing the shape with one finger, stroking his balls with her right hand.
The glazed look in his eyes enchanted her. Encouraged, she poked out the tip of her tongue but then hesitated. She looked at him. “I don’t usually do this.”
“Neither do I,” he confessed. “If my staff member hadn’t been away, then –”
“You’re management?” She hadn’t expected that.
“Afraid so.” He shrugged. “I’m not very experienced at playing Santa.”
Batting aside his boxers floating on the bubbles, she said shyly, “You’re pretty good for someone who doesn’t know much about sex.”
He looked incredulous. “I know plenty, believe me!” His lips curled into a wry smile. “You can’t work in a place like this and not pick up some tips.”
She flashed him a cheeky grin. “But you don’t get a chance to –”
“Hell, darling,” he interrupted, “You’re the first girl who’s tempted me in a very long while.”
Her heart flipped. She pressed her lips to his cock head and licked and sucked until he tensed and drew in a sharp breath, stopping her with his hand.
“Wait,” he gasped, slipping on a condom. He slid back into the frothing water and pressed her against the edge. “Fuck me, darling, I need more practice.”
“Me too,” she sighed, as his tongue touched hers. His knees nudged her thighs apart and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Holding her gaze, he eased himself in, filling her, stretching her and thrusting so powerfully that she cried out with pleasure.
“Happy Christmas, Santa,” she murmured afterwards, as he draped her in a fluffy white towel.
Beth, folding underwear into her suitcase, said she’d had the best Christmas ever. “How about you, Jen?”
Jenna smiled. “It’s been so good that I’m never going to leave.”
“What?” Beth’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Manu joined them. “You didn’t want to come to Fantasia Island!”
Manu, curling an arm around Jenna’s waist, said, “And I didn’t want to be Santa. But we didn’t know what we liked,” they exchanged smiles, “until we broke the rules.”
Beth grinned. “You guys really do deserve one another.”
Carol Singing
by Kay Jaybee
‘Are you sure it will work?’ The night before, over a low grade porn film, too many mince pies, and a bottle of wine, our drunken plan to seduce our new neighbour had seemed the height of erotic fantasy. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
‘Not entirely, but it’s worth a try.’ Freya dug a playful elbow into my side as we sat on the crimson sofa that dominated our living room, ‘Oh come on! What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘He could be repulsed and turn us down flat. He could embarrass us about it for ever more. He could move, he could …’
‘Come off it Carrie, we’re just going to be carol singers, it’ll be fun! It is Christmas after all; he’ll invite us in for a drink.’
‘How the hell do you know that?’ Not for the first time, I envied my lover’s confidence. Tall and slim, Freya’s naturally blonde hair and striking blue eyes constantly radiated her inner certainty.
Freya stroked a brightly painted fingernail across my freckled face, ‘Don’t look so worried, it’ll be fun. We’ll get dressed up, put on our overcoats, and go and sing at him. If he’s as nice as he looks he’ll ask us in to be neighbourly, if not, we’ll come home and play on our own.’
‘And if he does invite us in?’ I felt my pulse tweak up a notch as Freya’s hand travelled from my face to my chest, squeezing my right breast sharply through my thin jumper.
‘I suggest general flirting and lots of smiles to start with. After that, well … I have a plan. It’s been way to long since we shared a man honey.’ Freya bought her second hand to my left side as she spoke, ‘Plus, you know as well as I do, that once the action starts, there will be no holding you back, babe.’
‘And him?’ I couldn’t help but grin, I knew she was right, and anyway, Freya’s confidence was contagious.
‘Him? He won’t know what’s hit him, babe! Cos I know just what to sing.’
The front door opened mercifully quickly, so the street was spared much of our dreadful rendition of The Little Drummer Boy.
‘Hello.’ I watched as Freya gave our new neighbour her best sexy smile, and knew she had been right; this man was a prime target for our combined attention. My fears that we were about to embarrass ourselves in a major way swiftly disappeared.
‘Interesting singing.’ He flashed a return grin at us. At six foot two inches, and undeniably well built, his neatly cropped brown hair framed an oval face, dominated by two piercing brown eyes.
Freya was still smiling at the man, who, just as she’d predicted, invited us in. ‘If I let you try some of the punch my friends bought round as a house-warming gift, will you promise not to torture me with your singing again?’
We laughed, both acutely aware of the twinkle in his eyes. Kicking off our outdoor shoes, I leant against the kitchen table while he poured out three small glasses of aromatic orange and cinnamon punch.
‘Sorry, we aren’t too good at singing, but it is Christmas.’ Freya fluttered her eyelashes at him in a blatantly flirtatious move, ‘It was really just an excuse to say hello.’
He laughed now, ‘Well, it’s more original than coming to ask for a cup of sugar.’
‘I’m Freya, and this is Carrie.’
‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Tom, I’ve meant to come and say hi, but I’ve been neck-deep in boxes.’ He put out his hand in greeting. We took it in turn, feeling how warm and smooth it was, both holding on to him for fractionally longer than was strictly necessary.
The atmosphere in the kitchen shifted as the moment of physical contact passed, but somehow I could feel the memory of it lingering around the room. An awkward silence descended, and I began to fidget, pushing the ever escaping sides of my long red hair behind my ears.
‘Not very seasonal in here?’ Freya broke the tension.
‘I’ve not completely unpacked yet, but I’ve not done too bad in the living room. You want to see? I just put my tree up.’
‘We’d love to,’ Freya grabbed my hand proprietarily, clearly showing Tom that we weren’t just housemates. Instantly, we were rewarded with a flash of fantasy-based lust, which our neighbour failed to disguise as it crossed his face.
He cleared his throat, ‘It’s this way.’
‘We know,’ I looked up at him through my eyelashes, ‘your home is the mirror image of ours.’
‘Of course, I wasn’t thinking.’
As we picked up our glasses of punch, we followed Tom into the next room. I took pleasure in the view of his neat tight backside, snug in his blue jeans. Freya winked at me, signalling that this was the right time for us to undo the buttons on our knee-length overcoats.
Tom had his back to us, as he proudly pointed to the newly decorated tree that stood as a beacon of festivity in an otherwise season-free house. A box of unused tinsel and baubles was abandoned on its side, spilling its contents out onto the richly carpeted floor. ‘What do you think? I’ve literally just finished it.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ I stared, genuinely impressed, at the flickering white fairy lights, surrounded by tastefully matching silver and gold tinsel, star-shaped decorations, and an exquisite angel on the very top. It was an interior designer’s dream.
‘You can come and dress ours if you want,’ Freya glanced from Tom back to the tree, ‘you’re a damn sight better at this than we are. Ours always looks like an explosion in a Christmas shop.’
Tom turned to face us then; about to dismiss our tree-decorating skills as being perfectly good, when he registered our Christmas attire, ‘Bloody hell!’
We stood, matching blue coats flapping wide open, revealing the outfits we had carefully chosen for the occasion. Freya shimmered and glowed with quiet control. Dressed as an angel, her long bare legs disappeared beneath a short gold skirt that merged into a tight basque of silver, complete with wings. As an elf, I wore an equally short skirt of green and red fabric, with a button-up top which clung to my more curvaceous figure, pushing my tits up and out, so that they were barely concealed beneath my costume.
‘I, um … you look … wow,’ Tom struggled to say something. A new level of tension filled the small space between us, as he scanned our figures.
‘Like our Christmas clothes? Shame it’s too cold to go without the overcoats, otherwise we would have sung at the neighbours like this.’ Freya shone at him.
‘They’re very … they’re nice.’
‘Nice?’ We looked at each other, holding hands again as we regarded Tom playfully, ‘Only nice?’
‘Well, not just nice, I mean …’
Freya giggled, breaking through Tom’s discomfort, ‘A toast I think,’ she rose her glass of punch, ‘to Tom, Merry Christmas and good luck and happiness in your new home.’
‘Thanks,’ Tom muttered as his eyes openly roamed over us.
I’ve no idea how Freya managed her next move, she certainly acted as if it was a genuine accident, but it was so contrived that I’m sure Tom was not convinced. For suddenly, she stumbled over nothing, letting the contents of her glass fly through the air, soaking the front of his clean white shirt.
‘Oh hell, I’m so sorry!’ Freya leapt forward, and began to undo his wet shirt buttons.
Tom stepped back, ‘No really, I’m fine, it’s just an old top, honestly …’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, you’re wet through, let’s get it off.’ And without giving Tom a chance to argue, Freya peeled his shirt off.
‘Oh my,’ Freya had hardly breathed the words, but they sounded abnormally loud in the otherwise silent room. I looked from my girl to our neighbour’s exquisitely toned and tanned chest, and back again. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. This guy was fit – well fit.
‘Enough messing about,’ Freya sounded defiant, and shrugging her overcoat to the floor, placed her hands on her hips.
I dropped my own coat, and moved closer to Freya, ‘Let’s cut to the chase Tom. You want to fuck us. That was apparent from the second you saw us hold hands.’
‘I …’ Tom’s face was a complex conflict of emotions as Freya spoke. I swear I could read his thoughts So they’re not lesbians, they’re bi … and they want to … hell, I’m not used to this women in control thing … they’ve planned this … two of them …
Freya didn’t give him time to respond. Reaching out her hands, she ran them across his torso as she spoke, ‘You are one cute bloke, and it’s been way to long since we had a man, isn’t that right Carrie?’
I nodded, my throat closing in on itself as I waited with impatient anticipation to see how Tom would react to the direct approach.
At last, without moving away from Freya’s wandering fingers, he spoke, ‘Stuff like this just doesn’t happen in real life.’
‘No reason why it shouldn’t,’ Freya gave him a lopsided grin, ‘consider it a Christmas present.’
‘Two Christmas presents,’ I added, and standing behind him, circled my palms teasingly across his back, ‘which one of us would you like to be unwrapped first?’
As if his brain had suddenly recognised that this was for real, and not some incredible midnight fantasy, instinct took over. Tom grasped Freya around the waist as she inclined her head to kiss him full on the mouth. I positioned myself behind them, undoing Freya’s silver basque so I could caress both her nipples and Tom’s chest simultaneously.
While my fingers worked, Freya began to groan into our neighbour’s mouth. Catching her breath, she turned away, ‘So, we are your Christmas presents,’ her voice was tight with desire, ‘I suggest we get Carrie to undress first. She has certain requirements which I, alas, cannot provide.’
Without waiting for Tom’s approval, Freya tugged off the remainder of her own clothes and stood, naked and magnificent. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Tom’s face flush.
‘Unbutton your top.’
Obeying immediately, my fingers fumbled over the small red buttons. My
sigh of relief as my tits were freed, turned to purrs of satisfaction as Freya suckled at my breasts. But I was given only a few brief moments of pleasure before she turned to a mesmerised Tom, ‘I’m sure Carrie would appreciate it very much if you were to help me here.’
It was all the invitation he needed, and seconds later I was being treated to a double helping of attention. The contrast in their styles as they worked was incredible. Freya bit and grazed me with her teeth between hard kisses. Tom was softer, gentler; treating me as if I was some sort of delicate china that might break at my moment. I cried out in delicious confusion as they feasted, not sure if I wanted one of them to slow down, or the other to speed up.
Freya stopped, and, reluctantly, so did Tom, making me groan with loss as my girl ordered me on to all fours.
Doing as I was told, I soon felt my short skirt hitched over my arse, and my elfish green knickers dragged to my knees.
Freya’s voice came from above my head, ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’
‘She sure is.’
‘Would you like to stick your cock in her mouth?’
‘You bet I would.’
‘Carrie really likes that, and the real thing is better than the dildo I can offer her at home. It can be your Christmas present to her.’
They were discussing me as if I was merely an object to be used, a sex toy to play with, and it was turning me on more that I could have believed possible.
Tom had obviously overcome any lingering reservations he’d had about the situation, for his jeans and boxers were at his ankles in seconds. Revealing a more forceful nature than his treatment to my breast had suggested, he made my body sway as he roughly thrust into my mouth, his hands holding on to my hair, keeping my head up so he could stare into my eyes as I sucked him off.
I was so consumed with what I was doing that I didn’t have a chance to wonder what Freya was doing, so I was taken by surprise when I felt a long piece of tinsel flick between my legs.
As she agitated the prickly decoration over my clit, Tom’s wonderful length continued to slide up and down my throat, and I began to quake uncontrollably. Freya, understanding the signs of my fast-approaching orgasm, slipped a finger inside me. I spasmed suddenly, and Tom let go of me, allowing me to slump breathlessly to the ground.
Seriously Sexy Stocking Filler Page 2