At the time she’d laughed and said, lightly, “Oh, might you?” And that had been that. She hadn’t expected him to mention it again.
Then last week in the kitchen, she’d been washing her cup up at the sink when he’d come up behind her and put his arms around her waist. Before she could move he’d slid his hands beneath her T-shirt and cupped her breasts over the thin material of her bra. Too shocked to object she’d stayed where she was breathing heavily. Encouraged, he’d slid his fingers inside her bra and begun to massage her nipples. For the briefest of moments Kate gave herself up to the sensation before suddenly coming to her senses and slapping his hands away.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” His breath was in her hair. “You want me every bit as much as I want you.”
“I’m seeing someone else.”
“So what!”
“Dave, we can’t.” She swung round to look at him, searching wildly for an excuse. “Someone might come in.”
He smiled like a cat that knows it’s about to get the cream. “I’ve waited all this time. I can wait a bit longer.” He let go of her and with a sigh that was half relief, half disappointment she escaped to her class.
The next time she saw him neither of them mentioned the incident. She could almost have convinced herself she’d imagined the whole thing. At least she could have done had it not been for the dreams. It was as if he’d sparked something off in her, unlocked a Pandora’s box of fantasies she hadn’t known she had.
The dreams got more outrageous as time went by. In the latest one she’d gone into the kitchen to wash up her cup and he’d locked the door behind her.
“Take off your knickers.”
“What?”
“You heard me, take them off and bend over – I want to see if it’s true about yoga making you more flexible.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Humour me, Kate.”
The next thing she knew she was bent over the dishwasher with her knickers round her ankles and he was spanking her bottom with a plastic spatula. As each blow hit its target she squirmed away, but he wouldn’t let her escape.
“You deserve to be punished, you little hussy,” he rasped. “Leading me on and then not coming up with the goods. I’m going to spank your arse until it’s so sore you won’t be able to sit down for your Christmas dinner.”
Afterwards, slightly breathless she looked up at him. “Can I consider my tea bill paid in full now?”
“Not just yet,” he said, tugging off his trousers and allowing his enormous cock to spring free. “Suck this.”
She did as he said, loving the taste and feel of him and hearing his small gasps of pleasure building in intensity.
“Is my tea bill paid now?” she asked, when her mouth was no longer full of him and it was possible to speak again.
“Almost.”
She closed her eyes, holding the moment, as she imagined what he was going to do to her next. But when she opened them again he was gone. So was the kitchen, and she was alone in bed in a rather passionate clinch with her pillow. And her brain registered, with crashing disappointment, that the whole thing had been just another dream.
The dreams got more vivid as it got closer to Christmas. Would he really demand payment in kind for the coffees he’d so willingly brought her? Half of her was afraid he would and the other half of her was afraid he wouldn’t.
“Morning, Kate.” She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Dave come into the hall where she was setting up her CD player for the yoga class and she jumped.
“You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
“Avoiding you – of course not.” She glanced up into his laughing black eyes. “Why on earth should I do that?”
He screwed up his forehead in mock seriousness and began to count on his fingers. “Four days to go, I thought you might be trying to think of a reason for reneging on our deal.”
“Well, I’m not,” she said, regretting the words the minute she’d said them because he’d just given her the perfect opportunity to back out – and she should have taken it.
“In that case, here’s your tea.” He grinned and put her mug on the windowsill beside them.
“Would I still have got a cuppa if I had reneged on the deal?” she asked curiously.
“Course you would. You know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.” He grinned again and strolled out of the hall and Kate shook her head. Her heart was pounding and she throbbed with her need for him.
The problem was she never knew how seriously to take him. Maybe he was just teasing her and when it came to it, he’d let her off the hook altogether. But, suddenly, she wasn’t so sure that she wanted to be let off the hook. She kept remembering the touch of his fingers on her nipples and the feel of his erection pressing into her back.
Her last yoga class was on Christmas Eve and Dave came into the classroom when she was packing things away and stood looking at her thoughtfully.
“What?” she said, glancing up at him.
“I assume you’re going to fulfil your part of the bargain?” He grinned at her. “And give me payment in kind. I’ve come to let you know I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.”
“I’ll see you in a minute then.” She felt herself blush. Was she really going to go? He obviously thought she was. He nodded, winked at her and strolled away. She flicked a glance at his arse and wondered what it would look like naked. Was she really about to find out or was this all a huge wind-up on his part?
Five minutes later she went into the kitchen. He was doing something to the boiler but he turned as she came in. “You’re keen.”
“Dave, I don’t know about this.” Suddenly she was nervous. “What about your girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend’s history.” He took a step towards her. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“What if someone catches us? I don’t want to lose my job.”
“There’s no one here but us.” He trailed his hand over her hair and down the nape of her neck. “I get the feeling you’re about to renege on the deal.”
“I don’t know, I … er …”
“Which isn’t really on, is it.” He ran his fingers over her collar bone and traced the outline of her right breast and she felt her nipple harden in response. He felt it too. He smiled into her eyes. “Only a very naughty girl would make promises she had no intention of keeping. Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”
She shook her head, mesmerised by his touch.
“They get spanked.”
Kate could feel her knickers getting damper. Shit – what on earth was the matter with her – why was the thought of him spanking her making her feel hornier than she had for years?
She began to back away, but he caught her arm. “Not so fast, young lady. I do believe you might like the idea of being spanked.”
She shook her head and started to protest, but he wasn’t listening. Still holding her arm firmly he propelled her into the back part of the kitchen where they kept boxes of stock and crates of wine for the bar. There was also a small wooden stepladder that was used to get to the top shelves.
“Bend over the stepladder,” he ordered. He winked as he spoke and Kate did as he said, more excited than nervous and still not entirely sure this wasn’t all some kind of wind-up and any minute he would laugh uproariously and let her go.
With her back to him, her other senses were more alert and she could hear his breathing. Then she felt his hand caress the curve of her buttock.
“Can’t give you a proper spanking through these. They’ll have to come down.” In the next moment she felt him tugging at her skimpy leggings and then he was pulling her pants down too until both were aroun
d her knees. Before she could move he gave her a slap across her bare buttocks. It stung but it was also incredibly exciting. She gasped.
He spanked her again, harder this time and she gave a little yelp that was half moan of delight. Whatever game this was, she could no more have stopped it now than she could have flown to the moon.
She could hear his heavy breathing and knew he was enjoying it as much as she was.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” he said, slapping her again and again. “And you need to be punished severely.” With a swift movement he pulled her leggings off altogether and she heard him unbuckling his belt and dragging it free of his jeans. The wide strap hit her bottom again and again until she could stand it no more and she tried to wriggle away.
“I’m not finished with you yet. Open your legs.”
Powerless to disobey, Kate complied, aware that she was now dripping wet. He slipped a finger inside her.
“Hmmm, I can see that punishment has done you a lot of good. Maybe you’re ready to fulfil your part of the bargain.”
“I think I am,” Kate gasped, twisting around to face him and grabbing at his jeans, which without a belt were easy to remove.
His cock sprung up from a thick forest of dark hair just like it had in her dream. She wanted it inside her, but he wasn’t in a hurry.
“Suck it,” he ordered. And once again Kate found herself obeying him without question.
Then finally when she knew he could hold back no more, the two of them had wild sex on the cold tiled floor. Kate felt wanton and abandoned as she sat astride him and he writhed beneath her. She was in control now and she was no longer the shy yoga teacher that she was in reality.
“That was utterly fantastic,” she said, when at last he slid out of her, gasping.
“It wasn’t bad was it?” He leaned back against a crate of wine. “We should do it again some time.”
“My place or yours?”
“Yours. I’ll just get cleared up here, and then I’ll be round in about – what?” He glanced at his watch. “Half an hour or so?”
“You’re not serious.”
“No, I’m not. At least not about the timing. You’ve worn me out, Kate. I never knew you had it in you.”
“Ditto,” she said with a shy smile.
“By the way,” he called, as she hunted around for her knickers and finally found them on top of a box of pork crackling.
“What?” she said, turning towards him and realising she wasn’t in the least embarrassed about her state of undress. He’d unleashed her inhibitions as well as her fantasies.
“I would have been quite happy to settle for a kiss under the mistletoe.”
Stuff the Turkey
by Harriet Hamblin
“Hi, Mrs Jones.”
Sandra Jones glanced up from the computer screen to where her eighteen-year-old son’s friend lounged casually in the doorway.
His white-toothed smile matched the plain white T-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and an arm bulged muscles as he braced it against the door frame. She breathed in the testosterone pervading her tiny study, and gulped quietly.
“Hello, Jake. Are you looking for Ryan?”
“Nah. I know where he is.”
“I see,” she said, even though she didn’t quite. When he didn’t move, she raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “Don’t you want to join him?”
He shook his head. “He’s busy with Hazel.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
The teenaged girlfriend. Sandra swallowed a pang of discomfort. She was still coming to terms with the fact that her boy was now a grown young man, with normal, adolescent, hormonal appetites.
“I see,” she said again, her cheeks warming at Jake’s knowing smirk.
“They’ve discovered the mistletoe,” he said, rubbing it in.
She cleared her throat. “Why don’t you help yourself to some Christmas cake, Jake? It’s in the pantry.” Adjusting her glasses, she swivelled her gaze back to the screen.
But he didn’t leave the room. Instead, she felt him slink toward her. Hastily, she closed the web window. He stopped at her side, his jean-clad groin mere inches from her reddening face. She scowled at the screen, determined to ignore him. He’s just a kid, she reminded herself, appalled by the sudden surge of desire tumbling through her veins.
“I’m not hungry.”
Her heartbeat boomed in her ears.
“That is …” he paused, “… not for cake.” His words hung above her, more suggestive than any mistletoe.
She blinked against the thrill of his seductive tone. Her fingers curled into balls and she drew in a shaky breath. She groaned silently and then came to her senses.
Swiveling her chair to face him, she said, “I’m old enough to be your mother.”
His grin scorched a sizzling beam straight between her legs. She squirmed against the melting ooze as he said, “You’re young enough to be my lover.”
She choked, then squeaked, incredulous, “What do you mean?”
Jake tilted his head and reached down to gently tug off her glasses. Stunned, she didn’t stop him. “You’re a beautiful woman, Mrs Jones. Haven’t you felt a little lonely since your divorce?”
She stared, a mix of emotion somersaulting through her. What was he implying? He was too young to know of the hollow ache of heartbreak, too wet behind the ears to understand that nothing was lonelier than an empty, loveless marriage.
“Your eyes are shining like cool green pools,” he murmured, staring right back.
She breathed rapidly and her tongue flicked across her dry lips. Her breasts seemed to swell, stretching against her cotton blouse. He reached out a finger to graze across one tightening nipple, and her lips quivered in a silent groan.
One sharp nudge of his bony hip and the door clicked shut behind him. He swivelled her chair and stood behind her. “I bet you’re really tight,” he whispered as he gripped her shoulders.
A bubble of laughter burst from her throat. Not sure whether she was appalled or thrilled, she quickly stifled it with a bite to her lip. “Just as I thought,” he said, kneading along her collar bone, and then up the side of her neck and under her hair. “Too much work and no play, makes –”
“You a very cheeky boy,” Sandra interrupted with a gasp, fighting the urge to grab his eager hands and push them straight down into her pulsing vulva.
He grabbed her chair and spun it to face him, planting his large hands on each armrest, his legs stretched wide, his hot gaze pinning her to the threadbare upholstery. His stance intimidated, his potent desire excited, and his hungry scent devoured her making her head swim with dizzy sensation.
She blinked to block out the burn of his forget-me-not blue eyes. Baby blue eyes. Scrunching her eyelids shut, she whimpered, “It’s Christmas Eve. I have to go. The turkey needs stuffing.”
Too late, she realised her mistake, imagining his eyes lighting up at the double entendre. With an inward groan of dismay, she heaved her bottom off the chair and thrust forward. But she was no match for Jake’s strength. With a primal growl of protest, he pushed her firmly back with one flat palm. Her eyes flew open, widening painfully as his mouth came down on hers, his lips sucking the life out of all her feeble attempts at resisting. One hand threaded through her hair, the other popped her buttons, one, two, three, four, and slipped into her bra to caress her nipples, one by one.
Unable, and unwilling, to hold back the bullets of desire born of his tweaking, she moaned as they shot straight to the bull’s eye between her shivering thighs.
Jake’s breath quickened, and his tongue snuck into Sandra’s opening mouth, parrying her thrusts with equal intensity until she sighed, all her fight subdued.
“I’m going to fuck you, Mrs Jones,” he whispered against her lips. “I
’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time.”
His words thrilled her more than he would probably ever know. It had been so long since she’d been so passionately desired. She swallowed guiltily. He was an adolescent, a boy, a kid, her son’s friend, for God’s sake.
And yet, here he was, behaving like a fully matured man. A smile curled her mouth as he nibbled and sucked, then lowered his head to flutter tiny, sweet kisses down her breastbone and across each breast. He pulled back to gaze at her, his dreamy expression melting her boneless. He looked like a man does when he’s ready to –
Fuck, she breathed the word silently, not wanting to break the spell. He reared back to undo his belt buckle, holding her gaze with a confidence which delighted her as he pulled off his shirt and rested a hand on his jeans zipper.
He paused, and then with a cheeky grin said, “You wanna sample my homemade stuffing? I’ve made it especially for you.”
Sandra’s jaw dropped, and then she giggled, her cheeks reddening fiercely. “Jake!” she chided gently, “What are you like?”
He laughed, shoving his jeans down to his ankles, followed quickly by his underwear. She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes rounding at the speed of his moves. But it was too late to stop now, even if she wanted to.
And she didn’t want to. His luscious, stiff as a rolling pin, penis, tempted her to reach out – to touch, to taste, to smell.
Why hadn’t she ever noticed, till tonight, what a gorgeous young man he was?
Her gaze roamed over his hair-sprinkled chest, her pulse racing as he thrust his slim hips toward her. “You’re lovely,” she breathed, cradling his thick penis in her hands, smoothing along the velvety-lined shaft, bending forward to draw the tip deeply into her warm, moist mouth.
At his low groan, she tongued his slit, poking in as far as she could, writhing in ecstasy as he tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed her head down harder. She understood his wordless plea and swallowed him deeper until his tip reached the back of her throat. She cupped his balls, stroking along the under-ridge, and then sliding her hand up and across his fuzzy pubic hair.
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