Seriously Sexy Stocking Filler

by Miranda Forbes

  Eventually when she had collapsed, sated, arms and legs wide, she felt his mouth leave her body, felt his large hot hands skim the length of her thighs as he rose from his knees. She opened her eyes to find him stripping off his own clothing. The sleeveless white T-shirt had gone in one hand pull over his head. His boots were abandoned by the glowing wood burning stove and he was unbuckling his leather belt, unzipping the jeans, releasing his manhood, until he was standing before her in all his glorious nakedness.

  She feasted her eyes on his physique. Broad muscular shoulders tapered to narrow hips, washboard stomach, six-pack-style, dark golden skin, longer than average blond hair. But it was to his genitals that she was drawn for surrounding one of the most perfect penises she had ever seen, was a luxurious forest of dark golden curly hair. He stood before her, as if allowing her to admire him. He was very appealing, a regular Adonis, she had already decided. But now? What more was there to know of him? Aged twenty-something, she guessed, but age mattered little to her as she took in the sheer beauty of him, confident in his youthfulness and stamina.

  He moved towards her, his erect penis standing proudly, its head, purple-tipped and swollen with desire, glistened. As he came closer Mel’s jaw dropped open at the sheer size of him and without taking her eyes from him, she caressed her own inner thighs, placing both her forefingers inside her vagina, still tingling from her own orgasmic delight, inviting him to plunge his erection deep inside her.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she cooed over and over again, shedding her remaining clothing so she could fully enjoy him body to body, skin to skin, cock to cunt.

  He spread her legs wide, opening her first with his fingers, widening her, preparing the way for his hard shaft. Suddenly he pushed inside her and she gasped at the sheer volume of him. He was big and for a few seconds she actually thought she might not be able to take the full length of him. Easing back, he waited for a few moments, before plunging deeper, then again and again, until the whole of his shaft was inside her hot, tight sheath.

  Mel gasped, never had she taken a man like him before. It felt new, almost virginal, stretching her, moulding her to his form. When he began his rhythmic thrusts, she had never felt so full of fuck. He began to move more quickly, as moisture poured from her vagina, adding to her sexual excitement. With each progressive thrust he grew harder, working towards his own orgasmic release. Strong hands gripped her hips, pulling her towards him with each successive movement.

  As he neared his own climax, Raffe paused for a few seconds to move his forefinger down her crack, rubbing against Mel’s clitoris triggering her to climax again. His release swiftly followed. They collapsed on the sofa, entwined, sated, satisfied and remained together bathing in the warmth of the wood burning stove.

  Later that afternoon, before the light faded Raffe finished cutting the tree and Mel helped him bring it into the cottage. ‘It sits in the hall,’ he explained, ‘at the bottom side of the stairs.’

  ‘Do you do this every year?’ she asked.

  He laughed, ‘What? Put up a Christmas tree or fuck the visitors?’

  ‘The tree, of course,’ she eyed him seductively.

  ‘Yes … you see this is my house … I’ve got a few friends coming for the holiday.’

  ‘Thought you said you were the gardener?’

  ‘I am … oh … I know what you’re thinking. Who does this arsehole think he is?’ Raffe took a few steps towards her, grabbing her upper arms he pulled her towards him. ‘It’s not good for the clients to know they’re being spied upon by the owner. And I do really do the gardening … well between my other business interests. What about your partner?’ he asked, touching her cheek gently. ‘When’s he due back?’

  Mel stepped back, she hadn’t given Josh a thought since she set eyes on Raffe. ‘He isn’t.’

  ‘Why? Haven’t things been going well?’

  ‘No … it … we’re not getting it on any more.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I’ve lost my job with the magazine I worked for and Josh keeps moaning about money. Says we can’t take the income shortfall.’

  ‘Magazine? What did you do?’

  ‘Features editor, but we folded.’

  ‘Can’t you go freelance?’

  ‘Sure, I’ve been working my butt off, trying to twist arms, phoning old contacts, offering work, but I’m not getting any commissions.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help.’

  ‘How?’

  Raffe took her hand and led her across to the window where they could see into the garden, then turning towards her, he said, ‘OK, maybe this is out of order but left me just drift this by you. I run another company, not just holiday cottage lets. I’m into film-making,’ he paused, trying to gauge her expression, ‘special films.’

  ‘Pornography?’

  He smiled back at her, ‘Got it in one,’ he paused dragging broad hands through blond locks. ‘It’s like this … my production company are always on the lookout for something different.’

  Mel stared back at him hardly believing what she was hearing. ‘So?’

  ‘You’re hot, damned hot and … we don’t always want teenagers with skinny arses, squirming and giggling all the time. Have you ever done anything in the industry? Photo-shoots?’

  ‘Never – but why me?’

  ‘You’re a bloody good fuck.’

  The next day Mel arrived at a film shoot.

  ‘Glad you could make it,’ called Raffe from across the room. The action was in one of the rental houses –a large converted barn, exposed beams. The whole of the upper floor was a continuous sweep of wooden flooring spreading through kitchen, dining and lounge areas, all accessed by a centrally placed stairwell. The lounge end was dominated by a circular wood-burning fireplace.

  There were four guys on the film crew shooting three actors – two young women and an older guy. They must have been shooting for some time as the three actors were naked. The guy was on his knees fucking one of the girls from behind and she was licking out the other girl who was on the floor on her back, her legs spread apart. The action was accompanied by a high degree of panting, pleasurable moaning all intermingled with husky voiced swearing.

  Raffe crossed the room towards her, dropping an affectionate peck on her cheek as he led her to the side of the room behind the camera crew. ‘Stay as long as you like,’ he winked, ‘enjoy.’

  Mel had watched the odd skin film or two before with Josh but it had never occurred to her how they were produced. It was obvious Raffe was directing, as he moved the two cameramen around the set using a series of hand signals, calling for close up shots. Watching the three writhing bodies was beginning to make her feel wet between the legs, her nipples too were tingling, as she watched the powerful thrusting, heard the yelps of pleasure and marvelled at the stamina of the three participants. She was so absorbed in the scene developing before her, she failed to hear Raffe call, ‘Cut.’

  The three figures sprang apart, disentangling themselves quickly from their copulation and walking away from each other, stretching their limbs. Several mugs of hot steaming coffee arrived on a tray carried around by the soundman. Raffe grabbed two and make his way towards Mel.

  ‘These guys have earned their break,’ he said through hooded lids as he handed Mel one of the mugs.

  She grabbed it with both hands, letting the warmth penetrate her cold hands. Strange, she thought, how she could feel so hot and tingly around the crotch and yet her hands were still suffering from the weather outside.

  ‘So first thoughts?’

  ‘It’s a bit of a turn-on,’ she admitted, ‘and I’ve just moved in on it.’

  ‘But would you want to see more?’

  ‘Possibly, but what’s the story line?’

  ‘Ah! That’s where we sometimes fall short. OK most punters pay for the downloa
d because they’re enjoying the action, but to produce well, the plot’s got to be strong too.’

  ‘So what happens in this film?’

  ‘That’s where I’d like your help.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Find me an unusual ending.’

  ‘I thought that came with the money shot?’

  ‘Sure, that’s expected, but I want to show something more for women –’

  ‘Then show a woman really being fucked and enjoying it, not acting … Show her so engrossed in the sheer joy of sex that she’s not even aware of being filmed. Make her feel she wants orgasmic pleasure so much she wouldn’t give a damn if your cameraman stuck his lens up her cunt as long as she got her come. Find real women and guys who enjoy pleasuring them.’

  ‘Like you?’

  Mel smiled resignedly. ‘Look I don’t know if I could … I’d have to trust the guy …’ Her voice drifted off, she knew what her next words would be but hardly dared say them.

  ‘I’m glad you came today.’

  Mel laughed. ‘Wasn’t that yesterday? But let me stay for Christmas and I’ll give it a go on one condition.’

  Raffe looked back at her warily.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she brushed his cheek with her hand, ‘I’m saying I’ll give the film a go, if you’ll do it too.’

  ‘Just you and me?’

  ‘And the film crew.’

  ‘OK but we still need a story line … two people fucking just doesn’t sell.’

  ‘Then get another guy in on the scene, how about a Santa? Not so fat, of course, like the guy you’re using today? After you have sucked me out, Santa can come along and give me a real present.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘A knock on the front and back door at the same time.’

  ‘Double entry?’

  ‘Yep, I rather like the idea … think you could oblige?’

  Raffe grinned, ‘Sure.’

  Mel curled up on a free sofa and watched the rest of the filming, thinking how suddenly her life had changed. For the first time in month she felt alive, as she eagerly anticipated the next few days and her new sexual venture. Yesterday she had had no idea that re-inventing herself could be so sexually exciting.

  Screwge

  by Landon Dixon

  “You shall have Christmas dinner at my digs, Uncle! It is settled.”

  “Bah!” Screwge bellowed, slamming his hand down onto his desk, making the gold coins jump inside the drawers. He abruptly rose and pulled on his coat and muffler, slapped his battered felt top hat onto his bald head. “I have business to attend to,” he stated curtly, brushing past his nephew and into the outer office of his money-lending establishment.

  “Business!? On Christmas Eve?”

  Screwge stopped at the door, turned. “Business waits for no man. You’d be wise to remember that.” And with that pronouncement, he jerked the rickety door open and strode out into the cold, snowflaked London night.

  It wasn’t much warmer inside the office.

  “Well, surely you’re going home to celebrate the season with your family, Robert Rackins?” Ted said, strolling over to the clerk’s high, tottering desk.

  The hunched man stilled his tattered quill over his ledger book, glanced nervously at the clock on the wall, the fire that had dwindled down to nothing in the brazier. “I-I don’t know if Mr -”

  “Nonsense,” Ted said cheerfully, clapping the man on the back. “I’ll take full responsibility. You go home to your family now. I’ll await my Uncle’s return.”

  Robert Rackins didn’t have to be told twice. He threw on his coat and scarf and was out the door like a shot, anxious for a bowl of his wife’s Christmas punch.

  Ted watched the clerk bustle off down the sidewalk, from the lone, frost-encrusted window of the grim counting house. And then he watched another bundled figure emerge from the darkness of an alley and run across the cobblestoned street to the office. He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her, as soon as she had pushed through the front door.

  The woman hungrily kissed him back, her lips cold, then warm and wet. “We sack his office, and then his home?” she gasped, eventually pulling back from Ted.

  The tall, dark-haired young man grinned, his brown eyes twinkling in the dim light shed by the few flickering tallows. “Yes, Miss Buford, just as we planned. He won’t be back here for another hour or so.”

  He unwrapped the scarf from the young woman’s head, revealing her long, flame-coloured hair. Her eyes were pale blue, shining up into his, her pretty face red-cheeked with the cold, and passion.

  “We’ll be rich, darling,” she breathed. “We’ll leave all this snow and cold and misery and sail for Australia.” Her eyes flashed. “No more scrubbing dear Mr Screwge’s floors or fixing his tea.”

  “Yes, Helen,” Ted agreed, gazing down upon her beauty. He opened her coat, to gaze at her large, flagrant breasts, heaving with excitement against the thin material of her white peasant blouse. They never failed to amaze and delight him, so seemingly adultly incongruous on one so seemingly young and innocent.

  He grasped her breasts, squeezed them, bending his head down to meet her willing, open mouth again. They kissed even harder, more urgently than before, Ted plying the soft, heated flesh of Helen’s breasts. She dropped the leather satchel she’d brought with her and grabbed on to the man’s broad shoulders, her tongue darting into his mouth to entangle his tongue.

  And despite the chill, the pair burned with a fiery lust – for one another, and for another’s gold.

  “In here! In here!” Ted rasped at last, pulling Helen into Screwge’s office. With one swipe of his arm, he cleared the ancient desk of its papers and ledgers.

  “Oh, but should we!?” Helen exclaimed, already removing her blouse.

  Ted stripped off his topcoat and unbuttoned his pants, watching as Helen’s pale, globular breasts spilled out into the open, rosy-red nipples pointing. He gripped her around the waist and lifted her up onto the desk. And she instantly fell back, breasts shimmying like twin vanilla Christmas puddings, legs parting to embrace Ted’s throbbing need.

  He fought his way through her skirts and petticoats, his hard cock bobbing, until he finally uncovered her ginger-furred pussy, winking with moisture. But before entering the anxious woman, he plucked Screwge’s quill out of its holder, still standing on the edge of the desk, and tickled Helen’s tits with the white feather.

  “Oooh!” she moaned, cupping her breasts, her nipples rising harder and longer under the teasing touch of the feather.

  Ted swirled the feather around each straining nipple one final time, and then brought the quill down to Helen’s pussy, brushing her slit with it.

  “Oh, God!” she cried, jumping on the desk.

  Ted lightly stroked her pussy, fluttered the tip of the feather briefly inside her. Before dropping the pen and grabbing his cock and driving that instrument of sexual business into the woman’s pussy. “Fuck!” he grunted, plunging full-length into Helen’s velvety cunt.

  She locked her legs around his waist and squeezed with her pussy muscles, tightly embracing the man’s thick cock. Ted grasped her tits and pumped his hips, fucking Helen. The desk rattled and scraped, the ink bottle overflowing, the lovers moaning and groaning and cursing; such a wanton display of merrymaking never before witnessed in the dour offices of Screwge and Moberly.

  Helen clutched Ted’s squeezing hands to her shifting breasts and shuddered with release, Ted frantically pumping her to orgasm. As he bellowed out his own joy, his churning cock shooting white-hot ecstasy into the writhing woman.

  It was over in a matter of minutes.

  And then the true lovemaking began – gold glittering in the pair’s dewy eyes.

  Ted produced two keys he’d made from wax impri
nts of his Uncle’s keys and opened up the old miser’s desk drawers and floor safe. And Helen eagerly helped him heap the gold coins into the satchel she’d brought along for the job, the clinking of the shining metal the sweetest Christmas carol they’d ever heard.

  Helen unlocked the door to Screwge’s rooms with the spare key she’d stolen from the man. Then she and Ted hurried in out of the bitter cold, brushing snow off their coats and proceeding rapidly up the stairs to Screwge’s sleeping chamber. Helen knew of the chest under the skinflint’s four-poster bed, and now, after Ted dragged it out, she unlocked it, threw the lid open.

  They stared down at the piles of gold and silver coins, the best decorations to brighten anyone’s Christmas Eve.

  Ted heaved the chest up onto Screwge’s bed and upended it, the metallic bounty spilling out all over the threadbare green bedspread. “Shall we, my love?” he said, sporting a lascivious smile on his handsome face.

  Helen was ahead of him once again, quickly stripping off her clothes in their entirety this time, and then jumping, naked, onto the bed of gold and silver. “Glory hallelujah!” she cried, squirming around, wallowing in the wealth. “We might just as well get used to it,” she said, scooping up and pouring coins over breasts and in between her legs.

  Ted dived onto the bed with her, rolled around in the sea of coins with her, as naked as Screwge’s now former charwoman. He gathered up great handfuls of gold and silver and showered them down onto Helen’s voluptuous body. Before crawling up onto her chest and proffering his rigid cock to her waiting mouth.

  “Fuck!” he groaned, grasping Helen’s tangled red hair, as she gustily consumed the entire pulsating length of his cock.

  She bobbed her head back and forth, sucking. He pumped his hips, fucking her wet-hot mouth. Coins sliding and clattering together.