1 comments/ 76947 views/ 7 favorites Silent Night By: ButterflyLane You enter the room, and there she is, standing by the desk, her back to you. She is wearing a simple white top and a silky black skirt that barely reaches mid thigh. You approach silently, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. You reach out, pressing her down with one hand at the small of her back. Without a sound, she complies, bending forward, placing her hands on the desk. The position forces her short skirt even higher. You can see her tiny black thong where it rises out of the crack of her ass. Your hands drop to fondle her tight cheeks gently. She wiggles slightly, silently asking for more. You slip a single finger under the thin black ribbon that disappears between her cheeks, allowing just the tip of your knuckle to graze her satiny skin. You caress her with that one knuckle, each successive pass just the tiniest bit deeper, until you graze the spot she most wants you to touch. She moans softly as your knuckle brushes her tightly puckered hole. She reaches back, grasping her ass with both hands, separating the rounded globes to provide you with better access to her. You chuckle softly. What she wants is quite obvious; that you are willing to provide it is her most devout hope. You reach for the ribbons on her hips that hold her thong in place. With a quick tug, the bows are released and the tiny scrap flutters to the floor. You slide a fingertip along her wet slit, dipping in for the briefest of seconds, gathering moisture along the way. You lightly caress her clit with the thumb of your other hand, fingers splayed along the inside of her leg for support as she sways. The wet fingertip, having reached its goal, draws tiny circles around her asshole as she moans in bliss. The single finger retraces its path along her wet lips, dipping further into her pussy in its quest. When it returns, dripping, to her tiny rosebud, she whimpers as you press it against her, seeking entrance. When her natural lubrication proves to be unequal to the task, you take more drastic measures. You kneel behind her, your face on a level with her perfect ass. As she feels your breath so close to the center of her desire, she tightens her hold, pulling her cheeks even further apart. You lean in, blowing warm air towards her. Your tongue begins at the top of her crack, slowly and wetly sliding downward. As you finally reach your goal, she quivers at the overwhelming feeling of your hot wet tongue delicately licking her tight asshole. You drench her in your saliva until it drips from her. The finger returns to play. Ever so slowly, you slide a single digit into her puckered hole. This, combined with the thumb still tormenting her clit, sends her over the edge. By the time your finger has disappeared to the first knuckle, she is in the midst of a shattering orgasm- no doubt the first of many this night. She falls forward, no longer able to support herself, and rests her face and chest on the desktop. You don’t mind, as this simply raises her ass a bit higher, providing even easier access to its delights. Before long, a second finger has joined the first in her ass. She pants softly, still trying to recover from the pleasure so recently inflicted on her. Knowing that saliva alone will not be up to the undertaking you have in mind, you slide your fingers out of her. As she whimpers softly in dismay at the loss of stimulation, you slide them back into her, reveling in the feel of her tight sphincter muscles gripping your fingers tightly. This time, when you pull your fingers out, she releases her grip on one cheek and burrows her fingers into her own drenched pussy. You reach for the bottle of hand lotion sitting conveniently on the edge of the desk and flip the top up. Upending the bottle, you squeeze an ample amount onto your fingers and her ass. All the while, she fingers herself slowly and almost leisurely. Replacing the cap on the bottle, you slip the two fingers back into her ass. Knowing how much she enjoys it, you ease a third finger in beside the others. As you finger her ass, you can feel her own fingers in her pussy through the thin wall of skin separating the two. She begins to pant, approaching another climax. Not quite ready for her to come again yet, you abruptly remove your fingers from her and grab her hand, forcing her to stop fingering herself. She whimpers, desperate for the relief you have denied her. You unzip your pants, wiggling a bit as they catch on your turgid cock, then falling to the carpet, where they are kicked away. Your dick stands proudly erect, pointing directly towards her quivering ass. She shivers as she feels your hand on her again. You reach around and grab her hands, replacing them on her ass. She instinctively knows what you want, and pulls her cheeks apart again, anxious for the fun to continue. You see her asshole, now stretched from having your fingers working in it, and are suddenly inspired. Kneeling once more, you lick your way down her ass crack again, tasting a not-unpleasant combination of her sweat and juices mixed with the lotion. When you reach her hole, rather than merely rimming her as you did before, you slide the tip of your tongue into her ass. She pushes backward against you, obviously wanting more. You gladly oblige, pushing your tongue into her loosened hole as far as you can. You spend a pleasant few minutes tonguing her ass as she trembles and groans softly. You reach between her thighs and touch her tiny erect clit and she comes instantly, her anus tightening around your tongue. It is a feeling unlike any you have ever experienced before. You can hold back no longer. Your cock has waited patiently for as long as it can. You stand and once again reach for the tube of lotion. She removes it from your hand and dumps a generous amount into her own palm. Reaching back between her own thighs, she unerringly grasps your broad cock and smears the lotion all over, from the plum-sized head down your long, broad shaft. Her hands feel so good on your neglected dick that you allow her to continue for a few moments, closing your eyes in pleasure as she strokes you the way she knows you love most. All too quickly, however, you know that if her talented hands aren’t removed you will come in her palm instead of her ass. You take a step back, and her hands fall away as you leave her reach. You replace her hands on her cheeks, and she obligingly spreads them for you. You can see that her hole is beginning to tighten up again, having been empty for several moments. As far as you are concerned, this is all to the good. A tight hole is better than a loose one, no matter that it will stretch again very quickly. You step forward again and place the head of your dick against her puckered hole. With one long, slow push, the mushroom-shaped head enters her tight ass. You stop, allowing her time to become accustomed to the intruder. She relaxes, spreading her cheeks wider in welcome. You look down, pushing forward as you watch your massive cock disappear inside her back door. She moans in pleasure as you begin to ease in and out. Soon slow is no longer enough. You pick up the pace, thrusting into her tight ass, loving the view of your broad cock as it disappears and reappears, loving the feel of her tight sphincter gripping you. All too soon, you feel your own orgasm approaching. You begin to slam into her, your balls slapping rhythmically against her drenched pussy, and she screams as she comes for the third time. You are right with her, the first of your load shooting into her ass before the sound of her scream has died away. You hang onto her hips with both hands, helpless to do other than feel as the intense orgasm sweeps through both of you. You slowly pull away and she stands, wobbling on slightly unsteady legs. She turns and leans into you, pressing a gentle kiss on your sweating chest. For the first time since you entered the room, she speaks. “That was wonderful, sweetheart. I love you.” Hand in hand you head for the bathroom, intending to shower together before you climb into bed for the night. Silent Night Reminded of it by the encroaching festive season, I thought I might share with you a somewhat brief recollection from my youth. Whether you believe it or not is really of no importance. There are days that even I wonder! Spur-of-the-moment sexual encounters are nothing in the way of a radical occurrence these days. What made this special was the fact that the girl was quite obviously no "horny teen" on the make, simply a fellow traveler, finding herself at the dictate of circumstances incumbent upon her at that moment in her life. I was but eighteen myself and traveling home a week before Christmas, on the South-eastern line from "Charing Cross" station which as it happened, was right across from the department store in the Strand, where I worked as a junior salesman in the electrical department. The train -- one of the old solidly-built double-deckers that populated the line in peak hours, was crammed, in the manner of a sardine can. Let's just say that anyone with bad breath might have found themselves socially ostracized. It was an evening like any other then you might say! Picking up even more workers at "London Bridge," the train was so full, had you wished to disembark in the forseeable future, you would have needed to prepare for it a couple of stations earlier, to allow yourself time to gain access to a door. As for myself, I was wedged mid-aisle between seating compartments and overhead luggage racks. I can still smell that wood and leather polish. Hard to avoid the proximity of a young girl when her bottom is crushed up against your upper thighs and her mane of hair all but sealing your nasal orifices. To say we were "spooned" is no exaggerated metaphor. At one point she glanced around and looked up at me as if to apologize for her un-lady-like crowding of my person. Aside from wanting to marry her on the instant, I simply gave thanks to God for his generosity in selecting me to be her fellow standing commuter. So pretty was she and so sweet-smelling that girlish body, albeit wrapped as it was in a thick winter coat, I needed those luggage racks to support my weakened legs. Something less than a sexual predator in those days, I'm sure I did not have an erection, despite the procreative massage her rear-end was unavoidably bequeathing me as a result of the swaying carriage. The sensation however of having her that up-close and personal was something I remember never wanting to end. I just prayed she lived at the end of the line or at the very least, way past my station. The playing field altered dramatically when the train braked unexpectedly, coming into "New Cross" station. Everyone was thrown forward with the inertia and instinctively I put my arm around the girl to prevent her from falling. An older man in front of her did actually stumble I recall. Just for a second she looked up at me and mouthed a "Thank you." I was so wholly captivated, it was only after we started picking up speed as we left "New Cross," I realized my arm was still around her. Impulse is a wonderful thing. It lets you do things without having first to weigh up the consequences. Standing probably no more than five-two or three, the collar of her dark woollen coat presented itself fractionally below my chin, almost hidden by the proliferation of what I would think were natural auburn curls that fell a long way past her shoulders. Perhaps I was intoxicated by her subtle perfume and temporarily unhinged, but I remember gently leaning forward and nuzzling her neck through all that hair. She smelt angelic and I knew I was holding her a fraction tighter. I knew she knew it The least perceptible of sighs handed me the keys to the city. She pushed backwards with her body, just enough to let me know that right then, on that train, that icy winter's night, I was supposed to be with her for whatever reason and for however briefly. I doubt she was any older than me which meant neither of us had much of a clue about life or relationships. Still, there we were -- players without a script -- in so cramped an eco-system, fulfilling some sort of cosmically engineered one-act play that relied on no audience for its success. The "nuzzle," I upgraded to a soft kiss, feeling its effect on her immediately. She murmured something, still with her back to me of course, before raising her own arms which more or less clasped mine to her. I kissed her several times; monopolizing an area of some four square inches along her neck-line. I doubt anyone noticed -- I wouldn't have cared if they did in any event! Completely without any expectation of rebuke, I slipped my right hand inside her coat, no more than two or three buttons down. The warmth on site was considerable. My hand located what felt like quite small breasts that at first I merely cupped experimentally. No one could possibly have seen anything untoward in that confined space. By now she was noticeably pushing back on to me and making the slightest, rather sweet little sounds as I recall, as I grew more adventurous, beginning to fondle both girlish mounds, wholly protected as I was -- as we were - by that woolly terrain. The occasional sigh was now audible -- least to me, and fully determined I suppose, to repel further the boundaries of acceptable social behavior, I allowed my fingers to inveigle their way between the buttons of her quite obviously thin blouse. Now it should be stated for posterity, the difference between feeling a teenage girl's bra through her clothes and actually being able to caress her breasts as they nestle within their skimpy rayon crèche - is considerable. I felt her wriggle against me as I first encroached upon the walls of the forbidden city. The slightest of gasps emanated from her lips as my fingers breached the dyke, slipping inside that soft protector, actually making contact with her breast itself, daring eventually to manipulate even, what was probably a fully erect nipple. Throughout this protracted engagement, my lips had maintained almost unbroken contact with the girl's neck. Had we not been wedged so securely between the seat compartments, I doubt either of us could have remained upright. Not that any of this was occupying my thought processes I have to say. Between nuzzling her and fondling those hot little breasts as so surely I was, there was little room left for deductive reasoning. Whether simply a case of my "making hay while the sun shines," or the girl was impelled by forces outside of even her control, but it seemed to me right then, that her body language was urging me on to even greater daring. Not by the spoken word of course -- we had not exchanged so much as a "hello," simply the way she was pressing herself up against me. Working undercover as it were, I tunneled south across that flat abdomen and down what appeared to be a pleated skirt. Reaching the hem, I slipped my hand between her knees and felt my way higher until I reached some remarkably warm areas. Never having felt-up a girl in this fashion, I was probably short on finesse although I didn't hear too many complaints. At the point I found my palm flush up against the apex of the girl's slim legs I sensed a definite acquiescence and was in no need of a training manual to prompt my next move. Pushing beneath the waist-band of her tight panties, the sensation of parting her pubic curls was much to my liking - hers too, if one were to judge by the slightest of sighs audible in that confined space. Such were upgraded to definitive gasps of either surprise or pleasure - I couldn't tell which - when my fingers located the real prize just a few inches lower. Such heat I had not encountered before. Probing her (most likely virginal) pussy the full length of that sexy little slit, I soon discovered that one area in particular, seemed to up the wriggling factor. Having little or no experience in the biological functionality of a girl's vaginal cavern, it proved to be a work-experience program I just knew I was going to enjoy from the outset. Multiple descents and ascents later I was able to pinpoint that slightly prominent "nub" with ease. Seemed to me the more attention I bequeathed it, the better its owner responded. This state of shared Nirvana might have been perpetuated had I not noticed the girl's body tensing suddenly. Holding her tightly, I undertook one final incursion which brought about a series of body-shakes which in other circumstances might have rated high on the Richter Scale. Clasping my hand against her, she felt like she was about to purr. I was aware that my fingers were suddenly a whole lot wetter than they had been just moments earlier. Soon afterwards, the train began to slow up, coming into "Falconwood" station, she delicately withdrew my hand from her panties and just for a moment, half-turned towards me, sufficiently that I could notice the deep flush resident there. I had determined that I would at the very least introduce myself, neither of us having uttered a solitary word since boarding at "Charing Cross." As the train pulled in, I had been about to open the conversation -- something along those lines was more than called for I felt. To my everlasting misery however she reached up and retrieved a shopping bag from the rack beside us, simply glancing back at me with the sweetest smile on her face. Leaving me standing there, completely heartbroken, she then made her way with several other passengers to the open door. The last I saw of her as the train gathered speed, she was making her way along the crowded platform to the ticket office. She never even looked back. Silent Night I silently climb your stairs, hugging the wall, trying to blend into the shadow. The door to your bedroom is slightly open, from the other side I hear him breathing deeply. I know he is asleep, the whisky will have seen to that. In the faint light from the pale moon I see your beautiful form, shrouded by a pure white cotton sheet, lying on your side facing him. Quickly, I pull my shirt over my head and drop my jeans and boxers to the floor. I creep into your room, the excitement causing me to tremble slightly. My heart pounds so heavily in my ears that I am convinced you will hear it. Gently, so very gently, I climb onto the bed behind you and slowly slide my arm around you. You stir and mutter something I don't understand. Softly, I kiss the exposed flesh of your neck, your skin feels like the purest silk to my lips. I move up to your earlobe and nibble it. "Hi lover." I whisper. In the half light I see your face move as you smile, but make no sound. You push your body back into mine, the heat from your back making my erect penis tingle. I let my hand wander over your body, up towards your beautiful breasts, the breasts that I've so desperately wanted to hold from the first time we met. The feeling of your firm, soft, warm flesh in my hand is exquisite. I run my thumb up and around until I find your nipple. As I stroke, it rises, demanding more attention. I take it between my finger and thumb and begin to roll and pull it, ever so gently. You start to make a grinding circular motion with your hips, trapping my cock between our bodies, causing my desire for you to build greater by the second. I run my tongue down from your earlobe to your shoulder, tasting every millimetre of your tight, soft, pale skin. As my mouth reaches your shoulder, I suck your skin softly. Savouring the moment, for I know that every moment with you must be savoured. From the other side of you, he shifts in his sleep, the rhythmic breathing continues. I let my hand trace down your body to between your legs. Your thighs yield slightly as my fingers run down to your pussy. I press my fingers inwards, feeling the heat of your body rising. My middle finger slips between your lips, I run it over your engorged clitoris. You moan as I touch you, lifting your leg higher and bending your knee so that your wonderfully slender calf rests over my leg. I continue to rub you in long slow strokes, each time I rub down to your welcoming opening, you push back harder against my body. I use three fingers now to spread your pussy lips apart, a circular motion to keep the attention on your clit. Every so often I slide two fingers deep into your pussy feeling the incredible wetness inside your gorgeous body. I bend my fingers slightly as I retract them so that I run them over your g-spot. Faster and deeper I push my fingers into you, rubbing your clit with the palm of my hand. Harder and harder you grind against me, your breathing getting more and more laboured. I pull my fingers from you and spread your pussy as wide as I can. Firmly, I place the head of my cock between your hot lips. I push myself into you. Your body accepts mine as if we were always meant to be coupled. I slide my full length into you and then retract. Again I slide in, faster, deeper. When I am fully inside you and our bodies are as close as they can be, your pussy begins to pulse gripping my cock. I reach up and grab your breast hard. The moment is nearly with us. You pull my hand from your breast and put it to your mouth. Your tongue runs through my fingers licking your own juices from my hand. As you suck my fingers, you push your firm arse hard into me. You squeeze my cock with your cunt, harder and harder until we can hold back no longer. We come together in a long shattering orgasm. We both fight the urge to cry out, fearful of waking the others in the house. In the frenzy of passion, I pull my hand from your mouth and tear down your neck to your perfect tits. I grab them roughly wanting this moment to last for the rest of my lifetime. Still you pulse and squeeze me, draining every last drop of come from me. Finally we are fully spent. I pull myself from you and stand beside you. I kiss your head and leave the room. Silent Night "Goodnight, dad!" "Goodnight, son." "Goodnight, mom!" "Goodnight, Timmy. Don't forget to fall fast asleep or Santa might skip us this year!" "I know, mom! Jeez. I'm 23; you don't have to remind me every year!" "Goodnight, Aunt Sarah!" "Goodnight, little guy." I took a quick look back over my shoulder to make sure everything was set before going to bed. There were four fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies on a platter with a glass of milk for Santa and nine raw carrots for the reindeer. Some people forget about the reindeer, and most of those that do remember only leave out a single carrot for Rudolph to eat, but, like mom always says, "there's no I in team." I headed upstairs to my room. It was weird... being back in my room. After college, I needed to find a job, and my mom helped me to find one where she worked, but it didn't pay well enough for me to afford my own place any more. I was stuck at home again until I could find something better. But fortunately, this meant I had one more chance to meet the great toy-maker. It had been a dream of mine for as long as I could remember to meet Santa... the real Santa. But every year, I'd fall asleep. I simply could not will myself to stay up all night, especially in the dark, quiet house. But this year, I was older. I was college-educated. And I had a plan. I closed the door and lied in bed. I didn't want to be too comfortable and fall asleep so I kept my jeans and t-shirt on. As I laid there staring at the ceiling, I heard my mom, dad, and aunt make their way up the stairs. Aunt Sarah was staying in the guest bedroom next to mine and mom and dad had their bedroom at the end of the hall. The light switch clicked in the hallway and my room went completely dark. I quietly rolled out of bed and onto the floor and grabbed my PSP. I had already muted it and dimmed the screen earlier that day so that nobody would hear or see anything. I wasn't too fond of my PSP because there were so few worthwhile games for it, but it seemed like the best way to keep myself up through the night. The screen flashed and the game started. I don't remember what game it was. To be honest, I don't remember much of anything after that because I had fallen asleep. I woke up startled and began to curse myself for falling asleep yet again. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized it was still dark out. "Maybe it's not too late after-all," I thought to myself. The light danced under the door and I heard muffled noises coming through the floor. "Santa?" I wondered. I rolled onto my belly and lifted myself up onto my feet. I crept over to the door and carefully turned the knob and opened it. I could tell that the flickering light was from a candle in the living room so I slowly moved to the top of the stairs and looked down. Shadows were moving along the walls. Step by step, I descended the staircase until I could see into the living room. My eyes grew wide as I saw the legend himself, sitting there in dad's recliner. And, to my surprise, my mom was there with him on his lap talking softly into his ear. And then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed more movement on the couch and could just barely make out the silhouette of my aunt. I sat there, staring, with all the joy in the world filling my lungs near the point of explosion, as I prepared myself to finally meet my idol. "Uh oh, looks like we have an interloper." "Timmy!" mom screamed. My heart dropped like a rock as I nearly wet my pants right there on the stairs. "I thought I told you to go to bed, young man!" "I-I did, mom. I'm sorry," I choked out the words as my mother looked at me, her face flushed and her body tense with anger. I completely forgot about how badly I wanted to meet Santa as I turned to head back to my room. "Not so fast, Timmy!" she called out, "Get your horny little ass down here and give your mother a hand." I wasn't really sure what she meant, the words didn't register at first, but I complied with the command and descended the stairs. I stared at the floor, embarrassed, as I stood next to mom. Closer up in the dim light, I could see that she wasn't sitting in Santa's lap the way the boys and girls do at the mall, she was actually straddling the jolly old man. I also noticed that she had changed her outfit from earlier tonight -- she was wearing a short, red skirt with puffy white trim. It reminded me of Santa's hat. Her top was similarly designed, with short sleeves and a very low neck line. Her midriff was completely bare, revealing the pouch that she developed over the years, and she had dark leather boots with very long heels running all the way up to her knees. Her blonde hair was slightly messy and hanged to her shoulders. I also noticed, for the first time ever, that mom's chest stood out as proudly as the finest pair of double-D's I could ever imagine. In fact, they were probably even bigger, but I wasn't sure what was bigger than a double-D cup at the moment because my mind simply wandered as I lost myself in her mile of cleavage. I guess some time must have passed because the next thing I noticed about mom was her hand slapping me across the face. "You filthy pig! How dare you look at your mother that way!" she scolded. "Mom, I-I'm sorry. I didn't..." "I don't want to hear it! Now where's that hand I asked for?" Somewhat confused, I raised my hands and looked at them. Did she really want a hand... literally? No sooner could I question it then she grabbed me by the arm and pulled my hand in front of her body. She manipulated my fingers and yanked my hand beneath her skirt, forcing me to lean in slightly. My nostrils flared at the musky aroma that mixed with the strawberry scent of mom's hair. My hand was resting on her inner thigh momentarily as mom continued to bend and position my fingers. Her skin was warm, really warm, and moist. Electricity began to pulse through my spine as mom settled on a rhythm with my hand and her body slowly twisted and moved on Santa's lap. I felt as if I was dreaming... my mind was numb and my reflexes were slow, but I eventually realized what was going on. As mom's body moved, I felt the moist folds of her vagina brushing my fingers, and as she raised her body up, I could tell she was fucking her own pussy on a penis... Santa's penis. Moreover, she was using my fingers... her son's fingers... to stimulate her clit. Her body arched and Santa grunted. I wasn't entirely sure now whose juices were making such a mess down there, but my fingers were quickly getting covered in them. Mom's body trembled for a moment as a small whimper escaped from deep inside her. She thanked me with a kiss on the cheek and pushed me in the direction of Aunt Sarah as she removed my hand from the scene. Like a mindless zombie, I inched my way past them and sat next to Aunt Sarah. She looked at me with a pleasant smile on her face. From the stairs, she was just a silhouette sitting here on the couch. But now, close up, I could see her in great detail. Her legs were spread wide, her right foot sat atop the coffee table and her left was bent and on the couch. She half-laid in the corner and she was simultaneously groping her tit and rubbing her clit with her hands. Her dark brown hair was matted against the sofa like she had slowly been sinking deeper into the cushions. She was wearing green stiletto heels with yellow fishnet stockings. A green dog collar was tight around her neck and a green version of Santa's hat was resting just above her head. Her ears looked questionably... pointy. I wondered to myself if perhaps Aunt Sarah was an elf, but I didn't have long to wonder as she grabbed my wrist and brought my hand... the hand that was covered in mom's and Santa's juices... towards her face. She pulled it under her nose and sighed happily as she took in the aroma, and then she opened her mouth wide and engulfed my fingers so far into her mouth that I swore I could feel her tonsils. Her lips sealed around my fingers as she slowly pulled my hand back out of her mouth. Then, like mom, she began manipulating my fingers with her hands. One by one, she spread my digits apart and ran her tongue up and down between them before sliding each finger back down her throat. When she was done, I realized I was halfway into her lap, supporting myself above her with one arm as she held on to the hand of the other. "Come here," she beckoned, with a gentle pull of my arm. I inched myself closer as she stretched out her left leg beside me and positioned me into her lap. My butt was still on the couch, but she draped her right leg from the coffee table across my legs and positioned my head into the crook of her neck. She had let go of my hand as she wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace. Aunt Sarah and I had hugged countless times before, but never quite this closely. My senses were completely overloaded as they shifted from the warmth that was searing into the side of my leg to the musky aroma assaulting my nostrils and the general feeling of love and comfort as I lied against her. My body relaxed, slightly. I wasn't sure what to do with my hands. I looked to my lap and saw her leg there so I innocently placed my hands atop her shapely limb. The fishnets were interesting, thick bands of string with pockets of skin. I noticed how well-defined and powerful her leg looked. And then I noticed something else. Just inches below me were the two most beautiful orbs I could ever imagine. They were easily a full double-D cup, not quite as large as mom's, but beautifully shaped. They looked firm and inviting, and had no trouble defying gravity as they rose and fell with her breathing. "My poor little guy looks so exhausted," she mused. "Here, you rest your head on auntie's pillow." Truthfully, I was wired. But as she spoke her second sentence, I felt her shifting in the couch and guiding my head down to rest against her mound of flesh. The nipple was enflamed and looked angry, like a tightly-wound bud, ready to cut glass. Somewhat instinctively, I opened my mouth and flicked my tongue against it, coaxing it, spreading my saliva back and forth across its rough surface, like I was testing it before diving in for the feast. Aunt Sarah moaned softly. Her left hand was sandwiched between us, but I could feel it now twisting and moving against me as she resumed her earlier activities. Her right hand reached under her breast and lifted it into the air, moving the nipple directly to my mouth as she spoke. "Here you go, little man. Suck on auntie's melon while we watch your mom have her fun with Santa." That's right! I had nearly forgotten about mom and Santa, just a few feet away. But now, there they were, in all their glory. Apparently, they had reclined the chair and mom had removed her skirt because I had a front row seat to watching her ass bounce up and down on Santa's stiff pole. The light from the candle was still dim, but they must have been in just the right position because every time mom's gloriously large ass rose into the air, I could see Santa's pipe clearly stuffed inside her pussy. It was so surreal that it was almost like watching TV in slow motion as she brought her hips back down and his cock disappeared bit by bit back into the darkness. Her butt landed with a smack against his thighs and the process would repeat... again and again... as her moans grew louder and more impassioned. "Oh yes, fuck me, Santa! Fuck mommy. Fuck Timmy's mommy. Fuck me hard, motherfucker!" Mom was never one to curse... ever. But the sight and sounds of tonight were driving me to heights that I had never experienced before. As I watched mom, Aunt Sarah's hand had found its way under my T-shirt and onto my bare chest. She was gently massaging my skin and playing with my nipples. I also noticed her juices becoming smeared against me in the process as the occasional movement of air from my flapping shirt made my skin shiver. This, no doubt, made my own nipples tighten into little buds even faster as my aunt twisted and pulled against them. It was around this time that I finally noticed how incredibly uncomfortable my pants had become. My cock felt like it had grown to nearly double the size it typically was when I jerked off, and it was trying to spear itself through my aunt's muscled leg. Fearing I might get yelled at again if I brought further attention to myself, I tried to ignore it, and hoped that my aunt was too fixated on the other events to notice it as well. Mom dismounted from Santa. Her hair was a sweaty, matted mess, and her chest was heaving like a pony's after a long race. She looked at me, sitting between Aunt Sarah's spread legs, my head resting against her chest. I watched her, not knowing what to say, as her eyes trailed down my body to Aunt Sarah's leg. A large grin formed across her face as she kneeled on the floor in front of me, her lips slightly parted. I realized it wasn't the leg that she was smiling at as her hand reached out and smothered my crotch. With a quick, powerful tug, she unfastened the button and even opened the zipper halfway. It hurt a bit as she was being so rough and my cock was already so hard and full down there, but just as my hard-on began to wilt, she reached over into my boxers and fished it out. The feeling of her fingers wrapped tightly around my manhood was beyond words. She stood above me grinning, her eyes ablaze with lust as her hand slowly pumped my cock. Her eyes were fixated on the shaft. Never once did she even look in my direction, she just kept staring at it like a mountain lion fixated on its prey. My aunt's leg rose away from my lap and my mom pried my legs apart as she raised herself up between them. Her tongue snaked out across her lips as her face came down closer and closer to my groin. Her mouth opened wide, and I realized my aunt was moving her leg behind my mom's head, her powerful muscles squeezing inward to bring mom's mouth onto my cock. And then, it happened: first contact. My mother's lips were on the crown of my penis. A jolt of electricity shot through me and my hips involuntarily shot upwards as my aunt's leg continued forcing my mom's head further down my pole. Suddenly, half of my cock had disappeared into the most sensational place I had ever experienced. My hips relaxed and sank back down, and my mom sank right along with them, and kept sinking. Inch after inch, my cock left my view and the tight, warm grip enveloped me further. I was down her throat and plunging further and further until, at last, I felt my mother's nose press into my pelvis. My mother coughed, choking. A tinge of panic managed to bring me back to reality, but my aunt's leg stayed calm and firm against the back of my mom's neck. She coughed again. I stayed motionless. Beads of saliva were pouring down onto my sack. A third cough and my mother's throat clenched so tightly around my cock that I thought she might swallow it whole. And that's when I realized, my mother was trying to swallow my cock. Her throat muscles worked their way all along my length, massaging every bit of me. Her tongue was pressed firmly into the part of me that was in her mouth, and her lips suctioned my base. I also noticed that, despite the choking, mom wasn't panicked. She seemed completely at peace: her eyes were closed; her body was as motionless as mine. And then I felt her hand, her meaty palm, pressed into my ball sack. Her finger tips lightly touching different parts of me as her palm worked against my skin. Her breathing became labored, exhaling forcefully from her nose, forcefully enough to reach my balls and feel deliciously cool against my skin, heightened by the gobs of spit my mom was smearing around. I thought for sure that if my cock could see the light of day right now, it would be the angriest shade of purple I had ever seen. Mom coughed, and my body tensed. Her hand got more forceful on my sack. She was squeezing my balls like lemons, tugging them away, stretching the skin. My eyes rose to the ceiling, the sensations taking over me. And then I heard the faintest voice from somewhere in the distance. "Cum for mommy, Timmy." It was my Aunt Sarah coaxing me to blow my load. "Your mother has wanted your seed back inside her for so long. She misses it. And she's going to stay impaled on your cock like that until you give it to her." Mom coughed again and moaned. And as I looked down at her, her eyes were finally open. She was staring right at me now. The candle light flickered, and I felt like she could peer directly into my soul. Truthfully, mom and I didn't always get along so well because of our clashing personalities, and I hated how overweight and lazy she was. I often thought that she was probably attractive back when she was young, but she never got back into shape after having two kids. Still, strangely, there was always a hidden part of me that yearned to be back inside her, to experience that loving, nurturing, maternal figure that I had depended on for so long. And now, the time had come. Here I was, back inside her. And she was nurturing the cum to shoot out of my balls and directly down her gullet. The passion in her eyes was like fire, and I was lost. "Come on, little man." My aunt broke the silence. "Don't keep the slut waiting. She's wanted this for far too long. I know it must feel good down there; your mother has a very talented throat. Just relax and let that big, steamy load out." It did feel good. Damn good. Mom coughed up more spit onto my balls. She rubbed it around and squeezed my nuts tightly. Her hand began to glide up my shaft and she pulled her head up with it. Just an inch, and then she was back down. Up and down, she continued the process now. My cock speared into her throat. Her firm grip worked me at the base. Her hand, mouth, and throat worked in perfect unison to create a stirring in my balls. And every time she went back down on me, her hand crashed into my tightening sack, putting more pressure on my delicate jewels. "Oh god, look at that pretty mouth working its magic. I bet my little guy would just love to empty himself into that tight, warm cum dumpster. Wouldn't you? If only I had a cock of my own, I'd be blowing my load down that slut's little throat every damn day." What was that? I barely had time to process. My mother increased the length of her strokes, now bringing my cock head to her lips before forcefully slamming her face back down on my pole. The visual of my cock-wielding aunt fucking my mother's face entered my mind. The fiery, forceful passion they'd display as my mother's golden locks would fly about back and forth as she crammed my aunt's stiff member down into her throat. It was the stuff of cartoon porn and strap-on toys, not real life, but it triggered a fantasy in my mind that often lied dormant. I focused on her warm, savory throat; the same throat in my mind was currently engulfing my own member. It was too much. I groaned forcefully, my body tensing, straightening, driving my cock up as my mother removed her hand and simply dropped her face down onto my member. My manhood sinking as far back into her throat as it could go as jet after jet of my spunk erupted from deep inside me. I could distinctly feel the fiery warmth of my cum as it shot through my cock and spurted endlessly down my own mother's wanton throat. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. There was just me, the seed erupting from my balls, and this warm dumpster into which I was depositing it were all that were present in the world. I lied there; exhausted and spent. I looked around the room, trying to refocus my eyes in the light. Santa looked like he hadn't moved in hours. He was peaceful. He may have been asleep. As I turned towards Aunt Sarah, she smiled lovingly at me. In fact, she looked a bit proud. Silent Night My rapidly deflated cock was a shallow version of its former self. Strands of saliva from mom's mouth latched on to it for as long as they could as she rose to her feet. "Well then, maybe now you can get to bed, young man?" She asked the question so naturally, as if nothing that happened had actually happened. She bent down, her mind-boggling tits hanging in the air before me, and gently stuffed my cock back into my pants and zipped me up. She clicked the button back into place and grabbed my hands to help me back up. My legs wobbled a bit, and I noticed hers did as well as we leaned on each other for support. "Off to bed now!" she perked up. "Santa has some more packages to handle before he's done with our house tonight, and you've already seen quite enough, mister!" There was a humorous tone in her voice that I wasn't accustomed to. I squeezed past her as she plopped down onto the opposite side of the couch from Aunt Sarah. I headed up the stairs, afraid to look back. My body was exhausted. And my mind was confused. But mostly, my body was exhausted. As I stumbled into my room, I nearly collapsed onto my bed. All the lights were out. The house was silent. And I slept. Silent-Night This is an unashamedly romantic tale for Christmas, it skips time between the present and their first Christmas when they each gifted themselves to the other. ------ Silent night, holy night, All is calm, all is bright Round yon virgin mother and Child… 'I'm sure you all know this one, please join in with the choir.' The Priest was almost pleading with the elderly congregation, his despair of ever raising a noise from the parishioners equal to the celebration of the birth of the infant Jesus clung audibly to his words; the loudest noise they'd made between them thus far was the shuffling of feet on cold stone flags, and a good few coughs and wheezes and I wondered what I was doing in a church for midnight mass on Christmas Eve instead of being in the pub with the rest of the gang. Actually, I knew only too well what I was doing at the church; there was this girl… She'd never struck me as the church mouse type. We were kind of dating; that is I told everyone we were dating and she seemed to be doing her level best to steer clear of any kind of entanglement with me… most of the time. On the few occasions when she actually let me walk her home, she seemed quite keen. Didn't object to kissing, in fact she kissed like an angel, soft plying kisses that built from shy exploratory affection to an almost animalistic urgency until she pulled herself away, leaving both of us breathless with excitement and unfulfilled anticipation, then she'd leave me at the garden gate, not promising anything, not agreeing to see me again, not with words… but her eyes and the lingering touch of her fingers in my hand, and the scent of her in the stillness of the night air, held a promise that anything was possible. We'd been behaving like this for six months, not quite a couple, not quite dating, dancing with inevitability. ------ "Dad!" "Oh not again! Whose turn is it?" She turned her head and smiled at me from where she was making sausage rolls on the kitchen worktop, her smile never failed to ignite me, things had always been that way between us, from the very beginning we'd taken our pleasure in the simple honest enjoyment of one another. I rose from the tableside chair where I was putting the finishing touches to the dolls house I'd been making for our twin girls. "I'll never get it finished at this rate." I complained half-heartedly. "Go, before one of them comes in here and spoils the surprise." She glanced across her shoulder at me as I came back into the kitchen a few minutes later. "What did they want this time?" I eased behind her, wriggling against her backside and scooping my hand in a deft movement under her cashmere jumper cupping her breast; she bent her head back shivering with anticipation letting me nuzzle at her neck. I'd been reading Christmas carol's to the girls instead of their usual bedtime story. "It was a technical question," I whispered against her skin, "they wanted to know if tomorrow is Christmas Day and the next day is Boxing Day, when is the Feast of Stephen and will it be snowing." "Mmm… What did you tell them?" "I told them it was another name for Boxing Day and that King Wencelas lived in Bohemia in the 10C where they always have snow at Christmas. I didn't elude to the fact that the carol it was composed by an Englishman in the 19C and set to a 300 year old Finnish folk tune." "Good… I think that might have confused them, or at the very least delayed you from doing what you're doing now." What I was doing was teasing her nipple, feeling it stiffen, listening to her breath catch as my nail grazed across erect bunched nerve ends, she began to slowly gyrate her bottom against the growing swell in my trousers, and we stayed, enjoying the crude sexual teasing, each knowing this to be an aperitif, a foretaste of what might be on offer. "Later my love," she said, having established her ability to arose my ardour, pushing me away with her bottom, "pour me more of that mulled wine. You finish that dolls house and let me finish these, and then I might just have a surprise for you - if those two let us." ------ I'm in the pub, waiting. It's noisy, boisterous, smoke, booze and raucous Christmas carol's, that's what we called entertainment in our corner of southeast London. I wasn't sure she was going to put in an appearance, she'd been cagey, didn't want me to call round at her house for her, said her Mum wouldn't like it. Didn't want me to meet her anywhere. I'd bought her a Christmas present and as the clock chimed ten-thirty I wasn't sure I was going to need it, it wasn't much, just a scarf, but it was a good one, my sister helped me choose it. I'd given up hope she might arrive, no longer watching the door but the antics of the Rugby crowd across the room when her perfume cut through the acrid reek of the lounge bar and teased at my nostrils. "Hello," she said, "do you want to go proper carol singing?" I tried to keep the surprise from my face when she told me we were going to church; I hadn't been to church since I entered my teens, a lifetime ago - well, seven years, I wondered if my membership had expired. I didn't really know what to say and walked with her the mile or so to the church, happy when she slid her arm through mine and let me hug her close to ward off the cold. Snow was forecast. The church is tiny, walls of Kentish flint set in a graveyard hedged with yew and holly. From a stubby tower bells peal calling parishioners for the special Christmas service. Candle lanterns lit the porch entrance to the church, their flickering light reflecting off the frost glazed path, I've seen the church before, passed it often, but never like this. One might call it a romantic setting; it oozed the spirit of Christmas, not the commercial ambiguity of Christmas. Legend tells of how Silent Night came to be written by Josef Mohr in Oberndorf, Austria as a Christmas song after he discovered mice had eaten through the works of the church organ, but the discovery of Franz Gruber's score composed four years later cast doubt on the legend; not that the parishioners cared on that night, nor me, or her, we intoned the seasonal words barely conscious of their message or the idiotic rhymes of John Young's translation - child / mild, afar / Alleluia! I sang with gusto, heads turned, she glanced, eyes wide in mock surprise and smiled the smile to melt a thousand winters. And when the service was over and we joined the queue of couples at the door to receive the Priests good wishes for the festive season, he took my hand in both of his and looked deep into my soul, 'Look after him Miriam,' he said, 'he has a good strong voice, we could do with him here on a regular basis.' ------ "Do you remember," Miriam asked, "the first Christmas Eve we spent together?" We both knew her question to be rhetorical, just an opening gambit in a game that might take us well past Santa's scheduled visiting time. We were stretched out on the sofa, Miriam sitting between my legs, leaning back onto my chest. We'd eaten a late supper, her wonderful garlicky sausage rolls straight from the oven, mince pies and more mulled wine - we'd probably both had more to drink than we ought given the twins were unlikely to sleep much beyond five o'clock. They were four years old and this year they really understood the whole Christmas event. For them the essence of the thing came down to the giving of presents, one couldn't escape it - not even in a four year old, the commercialism of the weeks (and months) leading into the so called festive season swamped for most people any religious empathy they might want to entertain; though Christmas, and especially Christmas Eve, would always hold a special significance for Miriam and for me. It sounds smug to say that we are blissfully happy, but I can't deny the fact, we share a mutual contentment, our lives and our careers had worked out better than either of us had a right to expect and we'd found in each other the perfect partner whose aspirations, in everything, are as much for our partner as they are for ourselves. It's wrong to say we owe everything to that one night but… I glanced at the clock, it started almost exactly eight years ago. "Remind me." I teased. "What happened?" ------ There are snowflakes falling, huge flakes, goose down flakes slip sliding through the blackness and silently carpeting hallowed ground marked by a trail of footsteps leading from the porch to the wooden gate in the hedge. "Come on." She said grabbing my hand and pulling me off the path into the virgin snow smothering the graveyard, "Let's go this way." We stepped off the path, I could hear the snow crunch beneath our feet as she led me around the corner of the church out of sight of anyone who might care to glance back, there was little chance of being seen, folk are too wary of slipping on the snow and are concentrating on their own passage unaware that we have taken our first step on our own very personal rite of passage. Just around the corner of the church she slipped on snow-covered ice where water dripping from a gutter had frozen on the ground, I caught her, breaking her fall, lowering her onto the snow, tumbling as my feet shot from under me and falling ungainly to lie sprawled across her body, a tangle of limbs, embarrassed hand pressing at unfamiliar swelling as we sought to disengage from a proximity that caught us unprepared. "Are you ok?" I enquired, from my knees alongside her. "Yes. Help me up." I took her arm and balanced her as she sat up and knelt facing me snow in her hair and across the shoulders of her coat. I reached to brush the snow from her hair and only succeeded in shaking snowflakes down her back; she stifled a shriek conscious of people still leaving the church. I don't know why, maybe to silence her, but I leant forward and kissed her, she hesitated momentarily then leaned into me, first with her lips, then her arms up onto my shoulders and my hands found her body, pulling her onto me and we knelt in the snow and in the snow fall joined from knee to lip and found unfamiliar curves that moments before had shrunk from contact and now sought ways to press and rub all-the-while pretending their pressing and their rubbing was accidental not intent and we each silently tested the new found limits of trust. From within the church, a carol played over the speaker system: Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by Yet in the dark streets shineth, the everlasting light The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight. ------ "How can you remember that? How can you remember what carol was playing?" "Miriam I can remember every detail of that night as if it were last night." "I can only remember kissing you, silently screaming for you to touch me. I remember your arms around me, you had a hand almost on my bottom, and I was willing your hand lower, wanting you to touch me so much. I could feel your prick against my stomach, it felt gigantic, and I wanted to see it, I wanted to touch it, wanted it to touch me. I could feel the heat of you even through our clothes and I imagined your prick burning hot, touching my skin, branding me while I lay naked on the snow. You could have undressed me then, taken me, I would have happily stained the snow with my virgin blood and I wouldn't have cared, I just wanted to feel you move inside me." "I was scared." "I know. You were the sensible one." We lay listening to the King's College carol service on the radio, each lost in thought, almost absentmindedly caressing one another, intimacy suspended temporarily by familiarity, awaiting the one or the other to take the lead and seek a response that will build into a sensation, then an urge, then a desire until sexual passion took up the driving seat… 'The Rector Phillip Brookes of Philadelphia!' we exclaimed together in fits of laughter as the radio began to play 'O Little Town of Bethleham'. How weird is that! It is a game we play - naming the writers of popular songs, we found our professional niche researching and writing histories of folk songs. Last Christmas we published a book on the history of Christmas Carols, somehow it seemed the least we could do. ------ When we broke from that kneeling kiss in the church grounds we both instinctively knew our relationship had changed, we'd moved from curiosity and uncertainty to desire… and uncertainty; you can't shake off the uncertainty, not with a kiss, not when your bodies meld to the kiss and promise more than you've yet discovered, more than you can imagine possible, not when the only thing you've seen is pictures and the only thing you've cum on is photo print or tissues and you've never touched the lips of a woman or drawn the moisture from between her legs with your finger or your tongue or your prick and the only scent you know is the scent she applies… and not the scent she exudes, will exude, coating you, sending you delirious, greedy for more. She drew me down into the graveyard away from any possibility of being seen by anyone leaving the church, behind a yew hedge that swept like coat tails to the floor, a scalloped recess to one side, an overhang of tight matted growth sheltering the ground. We snuggled back against the hedge and watched the snow fall against a backlit sky, heavy now, already vanishing our tell-tale footprints though it couldn't mask the excitement we each felt at being on the precipice of discovery or the games our fingers played stroking hands and wrists, prying to where warm skin lay hidden, and eventually she turned into me and the kissing began again only this time there was a frantic undoing of coat buttons and she sat in my lap, her lips on mine, duelling tongues, and our hands sought skin under jumpers under shirts and her body shook as she gasped into my mouth as I touched her skin and drew my fingers across her tummy, under her breasts, tracing the lower laced edge of her bra, the swell of her breast grazing my finger, and she shifted lowering her breast to my hand, cupping her, almost cumming in my trousers as she pressed against me trapping her breast against my hand against my chest. We stayed as if fused, neither capable of moving, lacking the language to admit what we are doing, what we wanted next, neither of us knowing how to ask in word or deed for more than is being offered, and equally afraid to offend by withdrawing in case the gesture is misread and these first urgent explorations fade into memory. The cold and a gust of wind that blows snow into our hideaway rescues us, re-arranging our clothing becomes a necessity. We walk to her house through ankle deep snow, kicking at small drifts forming tongues across pavements and into the roadway, feet cold and wet, heads and hearts blazing oblivious to anything but wanting to touch, to kiss, to taste, and at her gate we linger and hug and whisper endearments and finally she asks if I'd like to 'go in', her Mum and Dad are away, at her Aunt's for Christmas; Miriam stayed over for the dog, was supposed to drive down on Christmas morning, but that would be impossible now, with the snow already drifting to block roads. Inside her parents house everything is different, it's their world that shines back under harsh electric light, not our secret dark snow filled world and a edginess fills both of us as if we expect her parents to walk into the room. I sit patiently looking around the room while she makes hot chocolate, feet freezing, shivering slightly. Familiarizing myself with family portraits, Miriam displayed from baby to woman. "Christ! Your lips are blue." Miriam says entering the room carrying two steaming mugs. "I'm cold." I stutter, and she drags me upstairs insisting I take a shower, while she finds some dry clothes. I sit on the edge of her bed, clutching my mug of chocolate, a fan heater warming the barely lit bedroom, feet encased in her Fathers socks and slippers, his dressing gown wrapped around me. "This is surreal," I say, "I never imagined I'd be in your bedroom in a thousand years." "Really? If that is true I think I might have grounds for disappointment!" It was a silly way to begin over, but we didn't know any other and we teased each other and drank our chocolate and moved closer together until eventually we lay on the bed and she whispered what she imagined might happen between us in her bedroom, of a glimpsed image snatched from a magazine being noisily laughed over by the girls at College of a man with his tongue buried in a girls sex and the look of ecstasy on the girls face, which even though Miriam knew to be faked, must have foundation in truth. For two years this image filled her imagination, fed her desires, and now… ------ We've been undressing one another while we talk, and now, like then, she's shaking as I move slowly down her body. Already I can smell the essence of her, and just like then, I know she'll be wet, that the lips of her sex will be oozing a thick secretion forming like pearl drops along the wrinkled undulations of barely concealed skin; with Miriam anticipation is half of the pleasure, she likes to be coaxed, likes to spend all day pretending it may not happen until finally her desire and her lust and her wild imagining of bodies and tongues and fingers moving in unison out of control overwhelms her and, just like then, she will need to be touched, need to be caressed, and long to be filled. She turned the light beside her bed off, then moments later turned it on again, "I want to watch you," she told me, "I want to watch your expression when you see me for the first time. I want to watch what you do to me." I remember her panties even now, tight fitting white with broderie anglaise panels each side of a pubis that rose like a sculpted hill from the plain of her tummy. She let me take off her panties, almost reluctantly, legs lightly squeezed together, and I could sense her fight the desire and fear while I scooped her still warm sex filled panties from her feet and cupped them in my hands my fingers finding her damp betrayal in the crotch lining, then finally, battle won, she splayed her legs apart briefly turning her head to face the wall as if to mask her brazenness and I bent forward and I kissed along her thigh feeling her quiver with each kiss moving closer until I could feel the heat of her cunt on my cheek and my lips and her fingers tangling in my hair guiding me as she raised her hips off the bed to join my mouth to the stained lips of her sex. I was overwhelmed. The scent and the taste and the texture of rippled flesh and honey laden hair and the sweet tang when my tongue wormed between the folds she parted with urgent fingers and drew upon unsullied flesh ripened in longing, aching to be riven, impaling herself on my tongue, holding my head while the orgasm she'd craved tore through her body and the sound of her crying out and thrashing against my mouth set off my own orgasm. I sprayed across her knee and thigh with a suddenness that surprised both of us and brought Miriam wide eyed from her reverie, pushing my face from between her legs, bending forward to see my still erect prick drip semen onto the bed. She scoots forward, glances up as if to challenge me to stop her, and takes my prick into her mouth. She gurgles, a deep throaty tremble as her tongue works against my flesh and she slides her mouth slowly up and down my prick. I'm crouched, leaning over her head, one hand on her back feeling her body rocking against my prick in her mouth and my other hand finds her breast, a buttoned nipple stiff against my finger tips, Miriam rubbing her cunt against me where I kneel, I'm almost falling onto her, the sensation of her mouth milking me, and I'm going to cum and move to pull out of her mouth and I watch in disbelief as my prick squirts across her face. She gasps with surprise at the hot splash against her cheek, and growls, and takes me back inside her mouth. Silent-Night We didn't sleep. We touched and talked and kissed and agreed we wouldn't fuck, it would be stupid, dangerous, she might get pregnant, but fucking was all we wanted and we waved goodbye to virginity within an hour of our solemn resolve, a gentle mostly painless penetration to break the way. She inspected my penis for traces of her virgin blood, mildly disappointed that she's bled less than she'd imagined and relieved it had hurt less than she'd expected. We fucked in the Christmas dawn with the curtains thrown open and the snow outside deep and crisp and even, and in entering Miriam I found myself. If you've enjoyed the read, please vote and post a comment. Merry Christmas. Silent Night, Horny Night "Who in the fuck stays open on Christmas Eve?" I cursed under my breath. "Slave-driving bastards like Mr. Brooks, that's who," replied Stacie as she strode through the swinging doors into the kitchen. I quietly fumed, hands shoved in my pockets, leaning against the diner grill; heat on the stovetop matching my temper. It was Xmas eve and every business in this two-stoplight town was closed except for the diner. All night we had a total of ten customers, most wanting just coffee and a sticky bun. I lucked out the first two years I worked here on holiday duty, but pulled the short straw this time. Stacie opened the refrigerated cabinet across the room, retrieving a slice of Boston cr?me pie from the shelf before making herself comfortable on a stool in the corner. "So JD, What are you doing for Christmas?" asked Stacie. "Rum-spiked eggnog and watching 'A wonderful life' and 'Christmas Story' back to back." I mumbled. "What about your family, back east?" "Don't really celebrate the season." Stacie pouted at my remark, shifting the pie plate between her fingers. "Do you exchange gifts at all?" "Nope." My holiday attitude was probably turning her off by now, but I was already in a foul mood. "Christmas has become too commercialized for me," I continued. "People who won't say two words to you all year are full of sugary goodness in the month of December. "You are such a scrooge." She said with a tiny smile. I watched as she began to eat, sans fork. She lovingly slid her finger around the cool dark top before plunging into the yellowish center, then extracting her finger and placing the gooey decadence onto her waiting tongue. She caught me looking and with a wink, slowly slid out her finger clean of any evidence. "I won't tell if you won't." A hundred freaky thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could reply, she turned around and picked up the marker that hung from the dry erase board. "One BC pie." As she added the new entry to the waste sheet, I felt a little guilty. Damn my horny periods. There were days, even months where sex wouldn't cross my mind, but lately I had the urge to stick it somewhere other than the crook of my hand with a dollop of lotion on the side. "I take it you have a big thing going on at home." I asked. "Just folks, Tyson, and me" she said, referring to her little boys. " I haven't heard from Kevin, but he might show up." Kevin was a do-nothing wannabe rock star that had the privilege of climbing between her thighs on occasion. A jingle of the tiny bell above the doorway announced the arrival of a customer. I ducked my head through the slot of the sell window and saw Officer Dwayne P. Hobbs as he shook the newly fallen snow out of his hair and stomped the wintry crust off his boots. Stacie exited the kitchen and greeted him with an empty cup and steel decanter of Java. "Hey Officer," she purred, filling his cup before he had a chance to sit down. "Hey beautiful," he replied with a broad smile. He glanced in the back and saw me, quickly wiping the smile off his face and giving a curt nod. I returned his holiday greeting with a salute of my spatula and promptly left the window. We didn't exactly care for each other after a traffic incident that got me a weekend in jail and him in trouble with his superiors. It was right after the previous New Years, when I was pulled over for "acting suspicious" by said Officer. "When he saw that I wasn't going to play by the "special" rules set aside for "my kind", he tried to play hard ball. I played right back with him and ended up cuffed and stuffed. It wasn't until the following Monday morning that my fat got pulled out of the fire by an independent witness and I was released with an apology. Since then, we shared few words but many a fiery gaze. "Gonna eat today, honey?" asked Stacie, leaning on the counter. "Not much of an appetite, just coffee." He put down the menu and picked up his cup. I sat down on the stool vacated by Stacie and pulled a smoke out of the crushed pack from the front pocket of my jeans. I was out of sight, but their conversation still floated through the window. "Gonna get a couple of more inches tonite." "I hope Brooks lets us close up early." Hobbs laugh sounded like heated glass. "In all my years, I've never seen Brooks close early. "If we get snowed in, I'll quit. Swear to God." Stacie has been talking about quitting this greasy spoon every week for the past three years I worked here, but everyone knew that was a lie. She had to care for Tyson and her on-again off-again boyfriend spent what money he had on music equipment for a Southern Rock band that changed names every month and never played in front of an audience. Besides, she made the most tips out of any of the other waitresses in the joint. The bell jingled again and the voices of two more people entered the diner. I stubbed out my Marlboro on the heel of my shoe and got up. A young couple came in and took a seat in one of the booths adjacent to the counter. Stacie left Hobbs with his coffee and took them some menus. They ordered quickly and she brought me the torn off ticket. I wiped off my hands and got to work. Over the hiss of frying meat and eggs, I could still hear her and Hobbs talking. "How about going out sometime?" "Aw, that's sweet," she replied rubbing his hand across the counter. I whistled under my breath like an incoming torpedo. "But, I'm not trying to date right now." "Boom!" I breathed out a little too loudly, causing both of them to stare back at me. Hobbs' nose tipped red with humiliation as he downed his cup and gathered his belongings. "You have a good night," he said to Stacie before glaring back at me and heading out, slamming the door a little too harshly, startling the seated couple. I finished the orders of bacon and eggs for the lady, steak for the gent, and slapped the counter bell with my spatula for pick up. Stacie delivered the plates with a smile and made a beeline back into the kitchen. "That was mean, JD" She lightly punched me in the arm. That was her favorite way of communicating with me "Guess I'm off his Xmas card list," I chuckled. She smiled and picked up the partially eaten pie. She dabbed a piece of the cr?me filling on my upper lip. "Now you're an accomplice." I quickly licked it off, wagging my finger at her like I was scolding a student, but with a smile on my face. Stacie was a looker when it came to the small town types, but her image would get swallowed up in the big city. She was about ten years my junior, but the daily pressures of child rearing and bad relationships gave her a five year handicap. She stood about 5'10" with naturally curled auburn hair that flowed past her shoulders, even though she kept it pinned up at work. Her eyes were a sparkling green that fluctuated like a barometer, gauging her emotional state. She had a decent body, but her weight wavered with each break up and make up Kevin. I trained myself to stop looking at her breasts that strained for freedom under her polyester uniform, but allowed myself carte blanche with her apple-bottomed butt when she wasn't looking. Either from childbirth or recessive genes, she was the only white girl in town with a genuine black booty. She tried to play down the effects her posterior had on men, but she saw the rewards with all the attention lavished on her from passers-by and extra dollars slid across the counter. Hobbs wasn't the first suitor to get the polite brush off from the serving vixen and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but she only has eyes for Kevin. Only God knows why. "I wouldn't date him anyhow," she replied claiming her spot back on the corner stool. "He dated my friend Brenda and she said he was a 10 on the P.N.G. scale." "P.N.G.?" "10 pumps and a grunt." I loudly laughed with her at her rating system. I wanted to ask her about Kevin's rating, but deemed that taboo. "So, JD" she said between picks of dessert. "How come you ain't snatched up, yet?" "I'm not small town material, that's why." "I don't follow you." "I don't fit in here and everyone knows it." I drifted into town about three and a half years ago from New York to California and decided to put down roots for awhile in Colorado while working on my book. I took the diner job not for a lack of money, but I wanted real experiences to give my characters life. Why I haven't left yet is a mystery that even I can't answer. "You are different from the other..." she started, but cut herself off. I knew what she was getting at, but it didn't offend me in the least. Of the smattering of blacks in town, I certainly stuck out with my East Side swagger and libidinous attitude. I spoke often and loudly; didn't back down from confrontation easily. That is why I get such warm greetings from Hobbs nowadays. "Besides, aren't too many black women here that catch my eye." "Any white women?" I stood there with mouth agape, but before I could reply, she headed back to the front to tend to the lone customers. I watched her out the window as she poured more coffee and chatted with them. They finished dining, in a hurry to get to their final destination before the blizzard hit. Stacie came back around to the front register to check them out. We watched as they gathered their coats, the young man helping his girlfriend into hers. She snuggled up against him as he paid the check, leaving a decent tip, and they stepped outside into the whipping wind throwing a casual "Merry Christmas" to us. "Bah Fuckin' Humbug." I replied. By the time I got home, I would be too tired to watch little Ralphie beat the shit out of Fargas for the umpteenth time. Stacie sighed and ran a finger across her scalp. "Why can't that be me?" She asked, starting a new thread in the conversation, totally forgetting her previous question. "Kevin never helped me with my coat." "Only you can answer that question, sweetie." I replied and concentrated on cleaning the grill. She gathered the dishes from the booth and the coffee cup from the counter in a bus tub and came back into the kitchen to wash them off. "Let me get that." I reached over and took the tub from her, brushing my fingers over her a little longer than necessary. She blushed a little before turning away and going back to her unfinished dessert. I washed the few plates and looked up to catch Stacie staring. Not at me, but at my pelvic area. "Why you staring at my junk?" I asked, snapping her out of her trance. "Ooh, you caught me," she giggled and went back to the pie, turning away from me. "You're not getting away that easy, what you looking at?" I playfully snarled. "Ok, then." She put the pie on her lap and faced me, pointing those emerald orbs right at me. "I was curious." "About?" "Size." I leaned against the sink, a derisive grin creeping along my lips. This conversation was finally starting to heat up. "Besides, I know you've been staring at my ass for like ever." My grin dropped a notch, I knew I've been busted. "Ah-ha. I knew you been looking." She slapped her knee for emphasis. "Touch?." She was all smiles for luring me into her bluff and continued. "I haven't been with a lot of guys and never with..." She nodded her head in that knowing way and I understood. "So, I haven't seen too many 'thangs'." I snickered at her penis reference. She has a child, a steady boyfriend that must hit it on the regular, but she couldn't bring herself to say a dirty word in front of me. Her innocence was kinda refreshing. "Brenda says that you guys are like really, really big." I cocked my eyebrow at the mention of Brenda. Even though they were best friends, they were total social opposites. Stacie's travels take her from work to home, with stops along the way at McDonalds or the Pic-N-Pay and back to point A. Brenda doesn't work; never stays in one place long enough to call home and most of her dinners are in local watering holes. "Brenda knows this?" "Well, she saw a video once and said that this black guy was like all the way down in thigh and he wasn't even excited yet." She leaned forward in the stool and craned her neck to make sure no one was there. Satisfied that we were alone, she blurted out, "So, I was wondering where you put it so nobody sees." I bit my lip so I wouldn't laugh in her face. The monster cock myth was designed to scare white women off since the 1800's, but ended up backfiring leading to talks like this. "It's not that big, really." I hiked up my waistband, making her steal a look and me to grin like a Cheshire. "You need to get away from this town." "Brenda is such a liar." "I'm just glad you had the balls to ask." She relaxed when she saw I wasn't gonna pick on her too badly. "You ever see any of those videos, yourself?" She gasped in mock horror and clutched her heart. "Me, watch porn?" Kevin probably made frequent overnighters to Denver for his collection. I used the information superhighway, myself. We giggled like school kids as she finished off her swiped dessert. There was a huge dollop left on the plate and as she scooped it up, but instead of eating it, she rose and walked towards me with finger extended. "Want the last of it?" I opened wide and she put her finger in my mouth. I sucked off the remnants of the pie, sure she would withdraw her digit, but when she didn't found myself trying to entice her. I tongued her finger very slowly, making sure to get the last of the smooth chocolate off. She called my bluff again, not moving an inch. I stared right in her eyes as I assailed her digit with my clit pleaser. She deeply inhaled and started rubbing her finger back and forth on my tongue. The tiny ring of the front door made us jump apart, both looking at the intruder. Officer Hobbs appeared at the counter, none the wiser at he was busy clapping his gloved hands together to stave off the cold. "Stacie, you back there?" He called out. She wiped her finger off on her apron and after a guilty smile, went to greet him. "Hey Hobbs, what brings you back? "Got a call from Dispatch. It seems you're phone lines are down. Brooks been trying to call for the better part of an hour." "What, is he checking to see if we're still open?" "Hell, the Xmas bug must've bit his ass. He says to tell you that you can close up and go before this oncoming blizzard hits." I didn't have to hear the words twice as I shut off the grill and starting cleaning up. Not that I had anything special planned, I just wanted to go home. Hobbs looked in the back and tried to whisper to Stacie, his cracked glass voice carries. "Want me to stick around until you close?" Stacie followed his gaze to the back and replied, "Thanks Honey, but I'll be alright." He grunted in response and shifted his stance. "Hey Hobbs, I could use an escort home." I called from the back but my request was answered with a slammed door. I continued cleaning what little mess we made during the nonexistent rush, chuckling at my last dig, while Stacie totaled up the register and wiped down the counter. She put the receipts in the safe while I ran a quick mop over the floor. The snow fell even heavier now and wind banged against the windows with renewed vigor. I only lived a couple blocks away, but she lived at least twenty minutes by car and her beat up Buick was no match for the newly iced roads. "Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer," she said looking out the diner's bay windows at the storm as I shut off the lights and turned clicked off the open sign. "You could always crash at my apartment," I offered, putting on my goose-downed jacket. "Don't expect a tree or lights though." "My mom would freak out." "Yeah, What would the Woman's League think?" "I didn't mean it like that, JD." She put a gloved hand on my arm. I took her hand from my arm and placed it in mine. "Stacie, I'm a realist. I know what people say and think about me around here, but it doesn't stop me from doing what I want to do." She looked up at me in the dim. "I like that fact that you're different. It makes me wonder about what's on the side of the county line. I want to be able to do my own thing." "You will." I leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the forehead before releasing her hand and turning towards the door. When I placed my hand on the doorknob, Stacie reached over mine and turned the deadbolt to the locked position. "Hey, I should be the first person you give a present to this season." I furrowed my brow at such a weird request. I never gave anybody in this town anything, least a card, and now she expected a present. "Well, I did make you that omelet earlier." I joked to lighten the mood. She punched me in the arm. "There is one thing I would like from you." Her tone took a more serious turn and her eyes penetrated right into me. I was afraid to see where this was headed, but I bit anyway. "One thing?" "One thing." She took a deep breath. "I want to see for myself." "See what?" I followed her gaze downward to my crotch. My cock stirred at the hint that some action was on the horizon. "Do you think that's a good idea, right now?" I looked back out at the blinding whiteness rapidly engulfing the parking lot. "It won't take long and the police station is nearby. I could stay there for the night if I can't get home." Her breaths quickened as she stared back up at me. When I didn't say anything right away, she reached for my belt buckle, and I stopped her on impulse. My mind was spinning. I wouldn't mind getting in her ass, but I was no fool either. No independent witness was gonna save me if something went amiss. People around here still hate OJ and Kobe and I don't have an attorney on retainer. I'm at least eight years this girls senior and getting involved with her had lots of complications. My cock, however, had different ideas. "Jeez, not at the front door." I took her by the hand, leading her back to the break room just off the kitchen area. There was a cushioned bench under the coat rack and a small table for eating. The ashtray overflowed with butts and there was a cup half-filled with cold coffee next to it. I set my knapsack on the table and turned on the small reading lamp, casting the room in a yellow-tinged glow. "Standing or sitting?" "What?" "Would you rather I stand or sit for the unveiling?" She smirked, pausing a couple of seconds before answering. "I'll sit, you stand." She shrugged out of her winter coat and hung it on the rack before taking a seat on the bench. The next move was mine, but I was unsure. Woman didn't just ask me to whip it out on display everyday. I was wishing I had some music when Stacie interrupted my thoughts. "So?" "Oh, Right. Drumroll please." She pursed her lips together and imitated a snare while I took off my coat and proceeded to undo my belt buckle. I pulled my zipper down and reached in. My dick sprung to life, making kind of difficult to release from my boxer briefs. After a tug, I popped it loose and watched her eyes grow wide with awe. "It is big." "Bullshit. It's on average, nowhere down my thigh." "Biggest I've seen." I didn't know whether to be flattered or dumfounded. My "monster" couldn't have been more than six and a half inches long hard, even though the head was pretty large, giving it that thick look. She obviously came out on the short end of the sexual partner stick. "C'mon move closer." She leaned forward with interest. Like we were playing a game of "Mother, May I" I took a step forward. The desk lamp cast a shadow of my dick on the wall that would've made any woman duck and hide. She pulled off her wool gloves with her teeth and started to reach towards me but stopped herself. Silent Night, Horny Night "Can I hold it?" I could only nod as she tentatively ran her fingers across the top of the head before wrapping her hand around my shaft. The movement made my cock jump in her palm and she giggled at the response. "It feels nice." I tried to be mature about this absurd situation, but me standing in a break room of a darkened diner while a strange white woman handled me, left little room for maturity. She tugged at the band of my underwear for a better look. "You shave down there?" She ran her fingers over the fuzzy growth with wonderment. "Hygienic reasons. Less odor." She snuggled her nose right into my groin area and took a big breath. "You smell good too." She went on in her inspection, taking her time, looking at my stiffening cock with rapt attention. "You have the most delicious color." "Delicious, huh?" I smiled at her, trying not to say anything else that might be deemed cheesy. She smiled back, stroking at the same time. Her hands were very soft, but her grip was firm and unyielding. I figured she would like to chop it off at the hilt and take it home with her. Her gentle hand loving brought drop of precum to the surface that she spread around with her thumb, sending a bolt of elation up my spine. She looked up from what she was doing, licking her bottom lip, staring at me with burning eyes. "I wanna taste you, JD." All that small town innocence was thrown right out the window. I shut my eyes and try to will away the urge to blow right then and there. It's been a long time since hands other than mine were wrapped around my shaft and I think my cock knew it as well. Before I could reply, she leaned over and began to pepper my throbbing cock with tiny kisses. My hips shifted forward and I groaned aloud. She licked the underside a few times before sliding my head past her pouted lips. My legs almost gave out at the first caress of her tongue on my solidified flesh. "Can I at least sit down?" I gasped out, swaying from my heightened arousal. She released her hold long enough to let me plop down next to her before taking me in her hand again. She traced the coursing vein with her finger causing me to inwardly groan. I banged the back of my head against the wall a little too harshly, sending stars shooting across my vision, as she consumed more of me. Her cool mouth quickly warmed up from the radiant heat emanating from my dick as she eagerly sucked on me. The room filled with the pliant sounds of her enjoying me in her mouth. My cock slick with saliva, she kept milking me with her hand making it twitch with each pass on my fuckstick. She didn't try to put me all the way in her mouth, just enough to send me over the edge. I was rapidly losing the battle with my churning in my balls. I tried to pull her off, but she went faster. "Stacie, I'm about to cum. You gotta let up." She hummed in agreement and kept her mouth firmly planted in place. I felt the once forgotten rush of penile euphoria building up for an immense eruption and tried to brace myself, but had nothing to hold on to but her shoulders. I came with astounding conviction, each load I blew into her waiting orifice seeming bigger than the last. The contractions lessened till I had no more to give. Stacie finally released me from the tight seal she had clamped on me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You taste good, too." I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, taking her by surprise. "You just kissed me." "I guess I forgot to touch first base." "You came in my mouth, though." She looked perplexed. "He wants me to brush first." The mention of her boyfriend snapped her back to the reality of what she just done. "I think I could stand tasting myself a little without freaking out." I used my thumb to wipe a spot of her chin that her mouth didn't catch. She softened a little, but seemed unsure of herself. Glancing toward the front of the restaurant, she started to reach for her coat. "Wait." I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her to face me. "Nobody is gonna know about this and I can't let you leave it like that." "What do you want?" "This ain't about me." I reached around the back of her uniform for her zipper, pulling it down to her waist. She watched me as I pulled the sleeves down from her shoulders, then stood her up to let it fall completely to the floor. Clad in only her underwear and white sneakers, she stood before me, chewing her lip nervously as we traded places in the specimen exhibit. She pulled the pencil from her hair bun and shook her mane loose, cascading past her shoulders. As she stood there, hands on her hips, my manhood stirred for round two. She had a coke bottle shape with a slight paunch over her middle that she demurely tried to hide when she saw me staring. "Don't be ashamed, you're beautiful." I stood up and pulled her close. She grabbed my semi turgid pole, still sticky with cum and spit, and started stroking it back into action. I pulled the straps of her bra to the side and released the small clasp in the front. Her tits, just a tad short of d-cup, spilled out into my waiting hands, her rosy nipples quickly hardening in my palms. Her chest was dotted with freckles and I got busy connecting the dots with soft kisses. She gasped, melting against me, and wrapped her arms around my neck. I guided her to the break table so she could lie back. I kept kissing her breasts, rolling her nipple between tongue and teeth like a cherry pit, causing small beads of perspiration to surface on her forehead. Her hands roamed over my shaved head, before pulling at the neckline of my shirt. I moved my arms out and let her remove it completely before continuing of my trek of kisses down her abdomen to the hem of her panties. I tugged the plain white cotton with my teeth. She raised her hips to help me and I pulled them off, noticing the growing wet spot in the crotch. She had a neatly trimmed bush, with a thick protruding vulva. I kissed her inner thighs, causing her to spread her legs wider and slowly worked my way to the middle. I kissed her directly on the pussy, inhaling her womanly scent of her initial ardor, mixed with the faint traces of green apple. She was wet enough for me to come away with her traces of love coated on my lips. I sucked it off, the sweet and tangy concoction making an agreeable palate. I started off slow, just licking around the edges with a little nuzzling, but Stacie wasn't having it. She grabbed my head and scooted her hips over the table, knocking over the cup of stale Joe and ashtray off the table in the process and tried to get my whole head inside her. I partially obliged, plunging my tongue deep in the recesses of her soaking pussy, lapping it up with unbridled hunger. Her breathing condensed, her moans becoming more apparent as I kept at it. I probed my tongue around until I felt her clit, taut in anticipation, and lapped diminutive circles around it. Stacie's hips bucked, her moans turned to groans and then to shouts. "Shit, JD," she gasped in between drawn out intelligible grunts. "What are you doing to me?" I didn't bother to answer, just kept licking and sucking on her clit until I felt her legs began to shake uncontrollably. "Gawd, that feels so fuckin' good." She tightened her legs around my head. She kept her thighs tightly drawn around my head and her pussy was so wet, I thought I could drown if I didn't get air soon. She soon gave me that reprieve. "Get inside me, JD." I was released from the stranglehold. My dick was bobbing up and down like a divining rod and Stacie put a hand on my chest before I could make a move. "JD, pull out if it hurts?" "I won't hurt you, promise." She took another look at my raging cock and lay back, shielding her eyes with a forearm like she was about to give blood and didn't want to see the needle. I guided the tip of it just to the outer folds of her sopping opening. Little by little, I pushed my way inside her. She flinched at first, but moaned in acceptance as I slowly filled her up. "That. Feels. Really. Good." I began to slide in and out her inviting warmth with simple ease, my hands on her hips for leverage. She began to smile and giggled to herself. "What?" I asked. "You're not big, he's just small." She wrapped her legs around my waist and pressed against me. I felt her sugar walls tighten up a little, caressing me from the inside. I had a selfish moment and without warning backed out of Stacie, pulling her off the table. She looked at me with a questionable look until I turned her around and leaned her back over the table. "I have to see for myself." Borrowing a line from her as I rubbed my hands over her thick ass. She grabbed the table with both hands and stared back at me with a wicked leer. I leaned over and nibbled on her rump, sliding two fingers inside her. It wasn't long till I stood up and entered her a little faster than before, till I was buried. She wiggled her ass back against me in approval, trying to get me into the part of her undiscovered by penis. I grabbed a mound of cheek in each hand and started to work her from the back. Soft hums turned to fairish groans to neighbor embarrassing shrieks in less than two minutes. "Yes. Yes. That's my spot, baby." Stacie scratched at the tabletop. "Fuck me, JD." I kept drilling deeper in her supple flesh, her skin reddening under the grip of my large hands. She stopped scratching and started pounding the table with both hands. I felt her shudder underneath me, the inner grip she had on my cock getting stronger. I stopped trying to count how many pumps I passed. I was sure I passed Kevin's weak ass a long time ago, but it also kept me from thinking about blowing up. That familiar rush that started in my nuts and tugged at my stomach greeted me and I pulled out. Stacie whipped around and started stroking me again. Her hand blurred against the whole length of my cock as she stared in my eyes, urging me on. "Come for me, baby." I didn't have to be told twice as long ropes of my shot out, marking on her wrist, stomach and her heaving chest with DNA. She kept coaxing it out, not minding the organic mess I was splattering on her. I was spent after my last cock convulsion and promptly collapsed on the bench, her on top of me, still holding onto my pulsing organ. "Thank you." She kissed me on the lips very softly with just a hint of tongue. I wrapped my arm around her, returning the kiss. We sat in the comforting light for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow of sex when the pounding of the wind on the doors and windows shook us from our repose. "I know I can't get home now." She broke off from me and tiptoed out to the dark kitchen. I heard a faucet turn on and the splash of water. I had pulled up my pants and buckled my belt, looking for my shirt, when she came back in the room, wiping off any traces with a soapy towel. We silently got dressed and I pulled the bucket out of the corner for another mopping. A quick spray of air freshener and no on would be the wiser, I hoped. We stood together at the door of the diner, looking out as the storm raged on. In the distance, I could see the yellow light of the police station. It would be a hard walk, but her car was already door deep in snowdrifts. "JD." I turned towards her. She smiled but her eyes couldn't mask the sadness. "What happens tomorrow?" "Tomorrow is another day. You go home to be with your boy, I sit in front of a laptop and pound the keys." I brushed away a stray hair from her face. "You have your world; I have mine." "It doesn't have to be like that." "For now, it does." Stacie sniffed and looked back out towards the snowed in parking lot. "I won't forget tonight." "Neither will I, believe that." She finished buttoning up her coat and put on her gloves. I unlocked the door and braced for the storm front. "Merry Christmas, JD." "Merry Christmas, Stacie." Silent Night, Naughty Night Tiffany watched her brother reach inside his pajamas and pull out his cock. She looked at her brother's cock and her eyes widened. It was long and thick. She could see the big mushroom head covered with gooey liquid. Dylan was going to slide it in her but she stopped him. She wanted to see it, to touch it. Her arms reached out and she held it in her hand. She sighed and Dylan closed his eyes. He loved the touch of her hand. "I've been wanting to touch this for so long Dylan. I've wanted you like this since I was a little girl. I love you so much," her words were just coming out so naturally. Dylan held on to her hand that was wrapped around his cock. "I love you too. I love you more than a sister." Tiffany moaned softly. "Get inside me now bro. I'm so ready for you!" Dylan positioned his cock ready to bury it inside his sister's pussy. He pushed it inside and heard her shrill softly. He continued to push his cock wanting to just jam in her but he knew he had to be careful. He wanted to be gentle with her and to let her enjoy her first time. Tiffany felt her brother's cock sliding more and more inside of her. Each inch that entered her made her moan in pain and in pleasure at the same time. Finally he was all inside of her. Ever inch of her brother's cock was buried in her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "Ahhh oh it hurts bro. It hurts just go slowly," She begged. Dylan did just that. He moved his hips back and forth slowly letting his sister get adjusted to her first cock. Her pussy was gripping his cock so tightly. She felt so damn good and warm. Her juices coated his cock with each thrust. He was making her a woman, his woman. "Tiffany, baby, you feel so good! Oh sis I love you. I love you with all my heart," Dylan's voice was so sincere. She looked into his eyes and gripped his shoulders. "I love you too. I'm crazy about you! Move faster now Dylan, please!" Dylan was now ramming his cock faster. He knew it wouldn't' be long until he came. He wanted to cum inside of his sister and even impregnate her with his child, but he knew that time would come. Right now, he knew she was too young for that. "Tiffany, I'm going to explode really soon!" Dylan called out quietly. Tiffany squeezed her pussy on his cock as if she wanted to milk it. Dylan felt his balls swell up as his sister tightened her pussy around his cock. "Oh fuck! Tiffany don't do that! You're going to make me cum so fast!" She giggled and moaned. "Mmmm I love your cock in me!" He was now pumping her faster and finding it hard to keep his moaning down. "Sis, I am defiantly going to cum! I can't cum in you. Tell me where you want me to spill my cum." Tiffany went blank for a moment and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "In my mouth! Finish in my mouth!" Dylan felt his balls begin to release his sperm. He quickly exited her and moved up to put his cock in her mouth. "Arrgghhh yeah! Mmmm oooh fuck! Drink it baby drink it!" Tiffany felt the first shot of cum hit the back of her throat. It was then followed by a second, third and forth. Two more shots followed until she had her brother's cum flowing down her throat. She could taste him! Oh God he was delicious! Dylan was panting hard. He watched his lovely sister swallow every drop of his seed. She looked so beautiful drinking it up. He couldn't wait until she sucked on his cock and he sucked on that hot pussy of hers. He left his cock in her mouth as he tried to recover from the hardest orgasm he'd ever experienced. He could hear her slurping out any remaining juices that he had. He slowly took his cock out of her mouth and touched her face. She smiled up at him and he kissed her lips softly. "Oh my God! That was sexy! It was so sexy!" Dylan said happily. She held her brother in her arms while he placed his head on her chest. He could hear heart pounding. "That was so wonderful Dylan. I want you inside me again soon!" He looked at her ran his fingers on her lips. "Don't worry you will have me in you again. I promise that." "I love you," Tiffany said tenderly. "I love you too. I'll always love you," Dylan answered sweetly. Just then they heard bells ringing outside. Dylan pulled up his pajamas and Tiffany got dressed again. They went over to the window and saw lights and something moving. It was hard to tell what was going on. Just then, they heard Bobby's door open. He rushed out excitedly. "It's Santa Claus! It's Santa!" He said loudly. Tiffany and Dylan looked confused. "What? How do you know its Santa?" Tiffany asked. Bobby pointed up and they saw Santa and his reindeers flying away. Tiffany and Dylan were in shock as they watched the Santa fly away. "I told you Santa did exist!" Bobby said jumping up and down. "Yes he does. He sure does," Dylan agreed never taking his eyes off his sister. "Hey look at the presents he brought me! I wanna open them now!" Bobby yelled. "No you have to wait until tomorrow morning when Mom gets here." Bobby groaned. "Yes now we all have to go to bed now. Mom will be here early tomorrow and I want to be able to wish her a Merry Christmas," Dylan said taking his brother back to his room. Tiffany stayed by the window looking up at the sky in amazement. She felt as if it was all a dream but she knew it was real. She was in love with her brother and that was a fact. "Are you heading off to bed?" Dylan asked after he put Bobby to sleep. He wrapped his arms around his sister as he stood behind her. "Yeah I'm going to bed. I'd ask you to join me but I know Mom is going to be here in a few hours," she chuckled. "Ok well I'll see you tomorrow morning then," He said kissing her neck. "Yes you will. Oh and don't forget your present from Santa," she said in a sexy voice. He took the silver wrapped box and headed for his room. He looked back and Tiffany blew him a kiss. He smiled wickedly and pretended as if he caught her kiss. Tiffany grabbed her gift, which was wrapped in dark green shiny paper. She went to her room and anxiously wanted to unwrap it. She sat on her bed and began to open her gift. Her eyes widen and she blushed as she pulled out a long clear jelly dildo. In the box was a Christmas card that read: My dearest Tiffany, You've been a naughty girl and I hope this helps you on those lonely nights when you dream about your brother. Love Always, Santa Claus Tiffany looked at the dildo and naughty thoughts ran through her mind. She would let Dylan watch her play with it. She only wondered what he had gotten from Santa. Dylan was in his room trying to go to sleep. He kept wondering what Santa had given him. He was going to wait to open the present until the morning but it was already Christmas so he figured he'd go ahead and open it. A few seconds later her pulled out a collection of movies. Not just any movies. Incest movies with titles like "Becoming My Brother's Girlfriend, "My Brother, My Lover" and "Big Brother's Little Woman." He felt his cock harden and knew he could get more ideas from these movies to use on his sister. They'd definitely have to sit down and watch these movies together. He too had a Christmas card that read: Dear Dylan, Here is a small gift for you to enjoy as you have naughty thoughts about your sister. Hope you win her heart." Love Always, Santa Claus That night after some tossing and turning they all fell asleep. The next day would be filled with new beginnings. Dylan and Tiffany dreamed about each other and Santa took notes all year to make sure they got even better presents next year.