1 comments/ 46192 views/ 0 favorites Panties From Wrapping Paper Ch. 01 By: gauchecritic "Damn and shit. How did she do it? This wrapping paper's too thin." I realise far too late that I should have asked her. But how can you ask your lover how she made her paper knickers when your mouth is full of perfumed pussy? I urged myself to calm down and quiet down too or I'd wake him before I'd wrapped his present. The poor love had no idea; he's searched high and low this past month trying to find out what I was giving him for Christmas. I hope he likes it, I'd refused him often enough. Walking into the kitchen I decided I'd make a start on the dinner and then wrap it. Cup of tea and a ciggy were first though, while I tried to figure out how to not tear tissue thin wrapping paper whilst trying to wear it. I'd discarded the idea of just making a skirt or dress because he'd guess straight away and besides he already has me. This present was a very specific part of me. I really hope he's not disappointed. Oh my god... Sprouts. Jumping from the kitchen table I saw straight away that I hadn't forgotten them, they were there in the pan, grinning at me, daring me to light the flame before they were ready to start. Bastards. I hate sprouts. I checked the oven again to make certain the turkey hadn't got up and walked away during the night, with his butter coat and bacon pullover and his little chef's hat shoes. I flopped back down onto the barstool at the breakfast nook, next to the kitchen door. Tea. Just nice. A timid knock at the door made me nearly jump off the stool and nearly drown myself simultaneously, when I gasped in with a mouthful of hot sweetness. "Who the fuck is that at half past six in the morning?" Through the frosted glass I could make out the blurred shape of Martin-from-next-door. Poor lamb. Martin was the young, very young man from next door, waiting to go back to college. He's made a point of being very helpful to his new, helpless, next door neighbour. Popping by every single day, co-incidentally always after hubby had left for work. He was a love, and I teased him unmercifully. He always managed to catch me in nothing more than my housecoat, once, for devilment, in a large towel straight out of the shower. No doubt I was a very good topic of conversation with his drinking mates, I noticed they were always curious about our house when they passed on their way to or from next door. No doubt I was a very good topic for a wank too, although I wouldn't trust a single one of Martin's friends not to try it on with me. Martin never had. Even after I began greeting him with only one button on the housecoat fastened. I sail very close to the wind sometimes. Maybe I'll give Martin a present this morning too. Nothing too expensive. A quick flash. Not sure which though, breast or bush. Maybe both, it is Christmas. Listening for movement from upstairs, I slid off the stool and as unobtrusively as I could, pulled off all but one button on my housecoat. Then, whilst trying to push loose, now dry fringe hair behind my ears I reached forward and turned the latch. I let a happy surprise paint itself across my smile as I declared in my throaty morning voice "Martin! What a lovely surprise." I waved my arm in the direction of the empty kitchen, which lifted the hem of my coat to reveal quite a large expanse of creamy flesh to his young eyes. Perhaps a little more than I had anticipated as I quickly altered the angle of my arm. But Martin had seen. His eyes had widened, his cheeks had flushed. As he brushed past me through the strategically limited opening I leant forward and kissed his burning cheek, accidentally pressing my small, nipple hard, breast into his arm. "Merry Christmas Martin," I whispered in his ear, hissing the sibilance. This time, he blanched. He was changing colour faster than traffic lights. "Sit down." I indicated a chair next to the newly polished kitchen table, which would need the linen tablecloth and serving mats at dinner if I didn't want to spend the New Year stripping and rewaxing. Never mind all that. "Martin. Would you like a drink?" "Please, Mrs Edwards." I took the opportunity, and with one hand on the table and the other on the back of the occupied chair, leaned forward to ask, "What in particular would you like?" My spread arms opened up the top of the housecoat. I looked down to see how much and was quite shocked at the sight of my naked breasts in such plain view. Too much? He would surely see my nipples. Too late now. The buttons I would need to modify the effect were lying loose in the pocket. I'll have to sew them back on later. Looking up I glimpsed him look quickly down. "Well?" I enquired. Martin's head came up and I leaned closer to hear his request. His eyes never left the view of my slightly rounded belly seen through the upturned valley of my tits. "Anything, Mrs Edwards." As I turned towards the cupboards Martin snook his hand into the pocket of his skate pants. And as his wrist fell from view I could tell; either they were deep pockets or no pockets at all. I smiled. With his free hand, Martin took the glass of cold orange juice and thanked me. His other hand was buried deep in his trousers, but I could just make out movement under the baggy material. If this had been one of his pals then I'm pretty sure that the movement would have been wholly obvious, but Martin was discrete in his own fashion. I dithered over giving him his next present. Chatting pleasantly about girlfriends, drinking and social life I moved back to the stool across the room. I sat, drinking my tea, using the cup to hide my eyes, so that I could watch his next move and plan mine accordingly. I parted my thighs a little. Martin squirmed in his chair and slid down the seat. Cliché. I left my own seat and wandered about the kitchen a little, trying to think. Everything was cliché. If I'm going to do this, I may as well do it properly. I crossed the room again. Martin was trying to speed up the action of his fist without letting me see and failing spectacularly. "Martin." "Yes Mrs Edwards?" his fist slowing once more. "Martin. Did I wish you a Merry Christmas?" "Yes Mrs Edwards. When I came in." "Oh. Oh well." I made the decision and as I wished him a merry Christmas again I raised my foot to the seat of the next chair, hoping this would achieve the desired effect. It did. Martin was stunned. So stunned that he stopped rubbing his cock under his skate-pants, and stared directly and deliberately at my naked pussy. I let him gaze his fill for a full minute, during which he resumed his secret wank. I was thrilled to the core. Watching this young man pull his meat in front of me while he looked longingly at my bush. I have no idea who or what to blame for what I did next. It was going to be; just let him look and have his trouser-wank then out and start on the Christmas dinner. I found myself saying "Wait here Martin, I need to change." His face fell as I put my foot to the warm tile floor once more. Holding a grin, I leaned forward again to make him look up. "I won't be a moment." As I walked through the kitchen door I could hear the sound of knuckles on denim. Pulling the door closed I waited, knowing that it would swing open of its own accord. If I've asked Mick once, I've asked him a thousand times to re-hang it. I'm glad he hasn't got round to it. I paused on the stairs, listening for signs of life from the bedroom whilst waiting for the kitchen door to swing silently open, which it did, as if on cue. And there, framed in the doorway, was my present. A picture of a young man pulling his cock fast and hard. Martin didn't turn to look but I could tell he knew that the door was now open. He edged his chair away from the kitchen table and quite deliberately and tantalisingly removed his quite large prick from within his pants, and sat there lazily stroking the now glistening shaft. I just hoped that he would abide by the unspoken rules. His mates would have no qualms about fucking a bored housewife in her own kitchen, across the table, whilst her husband slept upstairs. Each taking their turn spewing their cum into my cunt. Then they would no doubt want to push their hard young cocks as far down my throat as they could, making me gag and beg for more. If I let them do that then sooner or later, standing up, whilst one had his long cock inserted in my flaming cunt one of the others would push his meat up my backside and arse-fuck me to oblivion. I might tell Mick about that one. With, now silvery, sliding thighs I continued quietly up the stairs to find the wash-basket in order to present Martin with his third and last present. Not having planned it this way I now had to rescue my slender shirt which I know for a fact shows off my succulent titties to full effect. How the hell does he expect me to wash his work clothes if he hides them behind the wash basket instead of putting them inside? Bloody hell. These are from two weeks ago. I'll take them down with me now – no I won't. I'll get them after dinner. What I need is… This. Yes. Carelessly pulling open the housecoat I managed to remove the remaining button and also lose it god knows where. I pulled on the shirt and smoothed it as best I could. Can't iron it now. Can I? No. Martin's present. He's not going to be bothered about creased wrapping. As I gained the middle step, downwards, I looked and sure enough there he was. Cock still in view. Still stroking. Is he going to leave it out for me to see? I stand deliberately on the creaky step, listening up and looking down. No movement upstairs and none downstairs. He's getting bold now, so I step into the kitchen and stare into his eyes. He stares into my tits and continues stroking. He moans when he sees how well they look in this top. "Is this a present for me?" I ask him. "Yes Mrs Edwards." Anxiously I ask if he understands the rules of this Christmas only game. He nods and smiles. I explain why I put on the shirt. "So that you can give me your present and I only have to wash a dirty shirt." "I've got it Mrs Edwards. You want me to shoot my spunk on you," Shocked, I nodded slowly "I'll shoot my spunk all over your shirt?" Smiling, I lowered my eyelids and sat opposite. "And onto your tits?" Thrilled. I flashed my lashes, and squirmed to ride my shirt up my backside. Martin looked at my sopping twat then into my eyes and for all his youth he saw the 'no' in them. "You don't want me to cum on your cunt though." I sank further and smiled my thanks. Martin stood and towered over me, vigorously wanking his beautiful length in front of me. "But I'm going to come on your face, and your lips and in your eyes." I nodded acceptance. Martin stepped closer, touching his knee to my elbow, needing at least that contact, whilst I fought the need to take his entire cock in my mouth and gag on his spunk. Scant seconds later I was showered with his eruption. I watched his body twitch with his head thrown back and convulsions wracking his system. Still pulling hard but slowly now, deliberately, his arse would jerk backwards, as his fist pulled forwards forcing another gout of cream to splash over my spunk bedecked shirt and face. In a final gesture of hard fought dominance he wiped his leaking cock across my shoulder and left a trail of silver up to my cheek and nose and onto my eyelid. I luxuriated as he came to his senses. I smiled as he hastily tucked his still hard cock inside his pants. I giggled, as he made his exit, and called out "Merry Christmas Martin." Part two of "Christmas Panties" will appear shortly when Mrs Edwards presents her husband with his Christmas Present, and we discover how her office lover gave her the idea for the wrapping. Panties From Wrapping Paper Ch. 02 This is a good start to Christmas Day I must say. Dinner not started, hair, face and shirt covered in my favourite Chinese delicacy, "Cream of Sahm Yang Boi" and still no present wrapped. I giggled remembering Mike Myers ordering that in Wayne's World. I found myself giggling more as I trailed a silver taste of my young boy's cream to my tongue. Damn. Now I needed something in me to quiet this building need for cock. I looked at the clock. 7.00am. Plenty of time yet. Warm the oven first then bird in at half past. Note to self; "take his little chef's hat shoes off first". Still giggling like a demented schoolgirl I eased myself from the chair and pulled off my sticky slender shirt in one movement. I'll take that upstairs in a moment to hide beneath the other washing in the basket. Walking through the kitchen door I stopped in front of the mirror to examine my bukake face. Well maybe not bukake exactly, only one lot of spunk, but I did enjoy the sight; hair highlighted with glistening strands and rivulets of spunk from my eyes, cheekbone and chin. I adore how much a young man has to give. I tasted it again. What if I went upstairs now and woke Mick to show him? I wonder what he'd say? "Come here and fuck me." Or "Fuck off out of it."? Best not, I think. Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. I need some cock… or something. The fun stuff's in the bedroom, don't want to wake him just yet. Washing machine? Not at this time of a morning. I stood undecided, trying to think of something nice and hard I could use. Shirt first. Then I'll have a look. I crept up the stairs, missing the creaking ones and managing to hide the shirt whilst savouring the feel of cooling spunk on my face, which only got me hotter and made puss more insistent. Back down the stairs. Creeaak. Shit. Listen. Lift foot quickly. Crick. Stop. Listen. Ok. Back down the stairs. [i]I wandered, naked, as a naturist From room to room in search of a cock When all at once I spied the surest Implement that would make my world rock Just long enough and thick around Now in my cunt I'll push and pound.[/i] I think I'll send that one in. Sitting astride the chair I took hold of my kitchen cock and scooched down to point puss at the door so I could keep an eye out for any other visitors. Wiping cum from my face, I lubricated my 'lover' making him shine wetly and grazed him gently down my lips. I re-adjusted my hold and opened my legs to rest my arms on my thighs. A long, low moan escaped as I slid from puss and down to press ever so lightly against my other hole. Oh yes, this will be nice. Now I'm looking forward to giving Mick his present. Press a little bit more. Oh fuck, this is going to be good. I glide the pretend prick upwards again (don't want to be giving him second hand gifts) and up between my lips, amongst the dark thatch of hair. Looking down to watch, (I love seeing my cunt get fucked) I place my right hand near the base of the slime instrument ready for a lovely deep fuck and halt, amazed. Grey. One, two, three, four… Oh my god. I've got grey hairs on my mons. Is that what Martin was looking at? He must think I'm ancient. I'm a grey haired old granny. I'm not even a granny. Ouch. No. Don't pull them out. I'll shave them. I'll shave it all off. That would be a nice surprise for Mick. A nice clean, girly cunt to fuck. I don't know if he'd like that. I don't know if I'd like that. Fucking hell. No. I love seeing his face in my pubes. Fuck it. If it's grey, it's grey. I rise quickly from the chair placing my waiting 'lover' on the table and head for the mirror in the hallway. Raising my arm above my head I search for any signs of grey in my armpits. After searching both I sigh relief. Not where anyone can see yet, anyway. 'Cept Martin obviously. Giggle. Oh but I need a fuck. Falling backwards my shoulders hit the doorjamb and I push out my hips so that I can look down at puss. I rest my fingertips in the hairline pulling the skin upwards so that I can try to inspect the lower end for grey hairs. I instantly forget about searching when my stomach muscles contract as a wave of pleasure laps at my beach. That's good. Why haven't I done this before? Pressing fingertips and nails into my pubis, I alternate push and drag, drawing my cunt lips around my enlarged clit. Tightening belly and loosening legs make me sink slowly to the floor in the hallway. Fuck. Now I can't see. Up. To there. Bit more. Ooh I like that view. I lock my knees to try to avoid sliding again, difficult, because now I'm sweating. Slick skin on polished wood doesn't make a good leaning position. Hips out. No. Bend knees again. Slide again. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Put the mirror on the floor? Something is bound to break. Frustration almost becoming anger I stamp to the end of the corridor. Shoes, you simpleton. I slip my feet in to white trainers, fastening the laces tightly. Assume the position. This is good. Fingers there. Oh good. Press, pull. Oh god. Push down, pull back. The slithery lips around my clit send pulses through my belly. My nails catching single hairs send painful full stops, and make me wonder at liking it. In the back of my mind I hope that the hairs I'm pulling out are all grey. In the mirror I watch, as sweat slicked palms push fingers deeper into the hair on my mons. That is so nice. At the first flick of contact with a roughened fingernail (have to file that one) on my proud clit, I swoop upwards on wings of lust, straining for that updraft to carry me over. A bird cry escapes as I begin falling. Now I flap more vigorously, lofting upwards, straining, and pushing harder down and inevitably in. One finger-feather, arches my back. I start the beat. Steady, rhythmic I begin the ascent; spreading wings catch the updraft as I insert one more. The need to fly sends my free wingtips to push my breast upwards, to lift myself on wind and wings. Pinching hard on my nipple and pulling myself up towards the blue, I push the third finger in. I'm above the clouds; a few more strokes and I can reach the sun. Oh fuck, I love that. Seeing three slime-trailed fingers in my mirrored cunt pushes me further heavenward. On the downbeat I add the needed fourth and plunge deep. I'm gliding on the upcurrent and fold my feathers slowly inside. With short, twisting movements of the wrist, I watch as I fist my aching twat to orgasm. After 10 minutes of lying naked in the hallway, I tentatively got to my knees, then my feet. I rested my hand against the mirror and studied myself. Cum for highlights in my hair and a stupid dreamy expression plastered across my face along with the spunk for make-up. Nice.. As high as I can fly, there is no air and already I know I'm doomed to fall, but first I perch between vacuum and gravity and my frail form begins the tearing pull that scatters me wide. Keeping my fingers closed tightly I make the final leap and deliberately pull my fist out of its nest, for that exquisite pain and release of a flailing orgasm. * * * In the shower I let the needles pin me to the floor whilst I thought furiously about how to make those panties out of wrapping paper. Did she cut them from a pattern? She must have folded them around her hips. Some sort of Arse Origami. I tried desperately to picture how they looked before I ripped them from her. Visualise it. What happened? All I could remember was her beautiful fat pussy after I tore her paper knickers off. Start from the beginning. The party. More than enough to drink. Some light flirting. Very light, since no one can bring themselves to call me anything other than Mrs Edwards. Then Anne. "I don't know if you've met Anne yet? Mrs Edwards?" "Oh I'm sorry Alan. Miles away." "Anne Parsons, Mrs Edwards." "Thank you Alan. Is that Helen waving? Hello Anne, I think we met once in Lucas's office." "Hello again Mrs Edwards. Yes, that's right." "Excuse me for being personal, but just how tall are you?" "Six foot one Mrs Edwards." "And I'll bet you weigh no more than I do. Nine and a half, I expect you have every male in the office asking you out." "Yes. But I can handle it. Even Jeremy." "Jeremy. Yes. We all know Jeremy. So tell me Anne, are you attached?" "Not at the hip, I have one or two good girlfriends." "Girlfriends?" "Yes. The gossip hasn't reached this far?" "Not as far as my desk. No." "Not even the stock room?" "I don't use the stock room. I ask Helen and she brings it for me." "Helen? I know Helen." "You know Helen?" "Yes… We meet quite often in the stock room." "So tell me Anne. Tell me the goss. No one lets anything slip when I'm there. I'm The Boss. I'm frozen. Tell me all the gory details. Tell me about the stock room." "There's not really all that much to tell. Some people sometimes meet there. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes intentionally." "Why would they meet intentionally in the stock room?" "Don't tell me you don't really know Mrs Edwards." "I have an idea of course but… Oh you have a little smudge from your eyeliner. Let me. Just… There. Let me see. Not quite. Hold still… there. You have wonderfully penetrating eyes. That outline of the pupil, I always wished mine were coloured like that." "You do have nice eyes Mrs Edwards. I love that almond shape. And these cheekbones. Oh. Now I've smudged your blusher. I'll… hold on. Look, come to the loo and I'll fix it for you." "You have to tell me all about the stock room on the way." "Better yet Mrs Edwards, I'll show you the stock room if you'd like. A guided tour." "Will you?" "Yes. I will. If you want to come." "Have you seen my office Anne?" "No. Not yet." "Then let [i]me[/i] give [i]you[/i] a guided tour. This way. Now, intentional meetings in the stock room?" "Well, let me think for a moment. Do you know what the Secret Santa is?" "Everyone buys one gift for one other person, but you don't know who has bought you yours." "Yes, but not all the gifts are bought gifts. Sometimes it may be a poem or a story that you'd like to give. You wouldn't believe the amount of dealing and bargaining that goes on to be someone's particular Secret Santa." "Tell me more." "Well, sometimes, if you pick the right person for a gift you can give them something other than a present that they can take home." "Such as?" "Let's take Jeremy as an example hm?" "Jeremy. Yes." "Can you think of a gift that Jeremy would like to give to every female in the building?" "[i]Every[/i] female?" "Every, single, female." "Cynthia in the post room?" "Cynthia, yes." "Dot and Pat?" "Together." "Oh my word. Together? Where? In the stock room?" "I'm not sure actually." "You haven't been here that long, how do you know all this?" "Well some people will tell you anything to try to get into your knickers. You just have to know who to ask." "Here we are, go through the light's there. So whose Secret Santa are you? Do you know who yours is?" "My Secret Santa has already been mentioned, and that's one of the reasons I agreed to this personal tour." "Jeremy. And the other reason?" "Two actually. One I'm your Secret Santa." "Oh! The second?" "I've just now decided what gift I'm going to give you. And it's… quite a personal gift, Mrs Edwards." "Would you like to close the door Anne." "Yes Mrs Edwards." "There's a lock Anne, turn it." "Yes Mrs Edwards." "Come closer Anne." "How close Mrs Edwards?" "Closer than that Anne." "This close Mrs Edwards?" "I think that's about close enough Anne." "What should I do now Mrs Edwards?" "Now, Anne, I think you should answer my questions and do anything I ask." "Yes Mrs Edwards." "What do you find attractive about me Anne?" "I think you have the most beautiful lips I have ever seen." "Really Anne? "Yes Mrs Edwards, ever since I first met you in Lucas's office. I adore the way they pout when you're thinking. And when you smile and show me your teeth and that tongue, my god that tongue." "When have you seen my tongue Anne?" "When you lick the coffee foam from above your lip." "And you're attracted to my tongue?" "Yes Mrs Edwards. I'd really like…" "Really like-? Really like what Anne?" "I'd really like to feel it inside. What it was like, being that long. How it would feel. I've dreamt…" "Does this have anything to do with the gift you have for me Anne?" "Yes Mrs Edwards." "Well Anne, I rather think that that, would be a gift from me to you. Would it not?" "Yes Mrs Edwards." "Kiss me Anne" "Mm-Mmp-wfff. Wait. Not so rough girl. You're not [i]eating[/i] me… yet." "Mrs Edwards? Shut up while I kiss you. - "Oh Anne." "Quiet Mrs Edwards. Hush. Sit here Mrs Edwards. I'll show you what I bought for Jeremy. Put your arms there Mrs Edwards. These are what I bought for Jeremy. Just a joke really. You could break them open easily if you tried. Want to try them Mrs Edwards?" "Yes." "They won't hurt. See? If they hurt just tell me. Say so. Is that ok? Yes? Say… bread and eggs." "Bread and eggs?" "Mrs Edwards. If you really want me to stop what I'm going to do to you, then you say 'Bread and eggs'. If you say 'I can't stand it' I'll do it more. If you say 'Please stop' I'll carry on. But if you say 'Bread and eggs' then I'll stop. Understand Mrs Edwards?" "Yes." "Comfortable Mrs Edwards?" "Mm." "Nice shirt Mrs Edwards. I love these buttons. Much better undone. Is this silk? I adore silk. Do you wear silk panties Mrs Edwards? No matter, we'll see in due course. Oh. I wear one of these. Blue though. Doesn't fasten at the front either. I haven't got it on now though, or have you already noticed that Mrs Edwards? "Open your lovely eyes Mrs Edwards. Better. Did you notice I wasn't wearing a bra Mrs Edwards?" "Yes." "Let's see how you look without a bra Mrs Edwards. Mmm. Very nice little pair of titties there Mrs Edwards. Very lickable." - "Your titties are all wet now Mrs Edwards, they look so nice. Did you like that Mrs Edwards? Yes. I can see you did. Now your nipples look all ready for nibbling. You have really really nice nipples Mrs Edwards. I love nice thick nipples surrounded by all that brown. Mmm. I think I'll bite them. Do you want me to bite them Mrs Edwards? Your lovely fat nipples?" "Hhess." "Nice Mrs Edwards. Very Nice. Now we'll see if you're wet anywhere else. I'm so glad you decided to go with the pleated skirt today. Why didn't you go the whole hog and wear knee socks and pigtails too? What about that Mrs Edwards? I could be the gym teacher and you could be the naughty schoolgirl. Hm? Then I could give you detention or extra lessons eh? No? Well, we'll think of something. Right then, let's see." "Hhoo." "Oh silk. I was right. And soo wet. And that looks like a very nice, very full, bush. Open your eyes Mrs Edwards. Can you see this finger?" "Yes." "Would you like me to put it in you?" "Mm." "Let's just get these out of the way then. "Ow." "Oh sorry Mrs Edwards. Did I pull a pussy hair? Fuck. Well I couldn't really miss could I? That is beautiful." "Do you think?" "Oh yes Mrs Edwards, that is a beautiful pussy. You beautiful pussy. So beautiful. Mwah. Mmm." "Hho." "Mmm. Now Mrs Edwards. Open your eyes. Can you see [i]this[/i] finger?" "Yes." "Would you like this in lovely pussy?" "Mm." "What about this finger Mrs Edwards?" "Yes." "This one? This one?" "Yes, yes." "This one first then." "First?" "Oho yes. First." "Hmm." - "Now this one. Nice?" "Aaw yes." - "Now the third. Good?" "God." - "Four?" "Hm. Yes. Fuck." "Now you might not like this at first. Remember the word?" "Bread-" "Don't say it or I have to stop. You don't want me to stop do you?" "Yes. I do. Stop. Stop it. Aaow. Yes." "I just knew you'd like it. You love it don't you bitch?" "No. I hate it. Stop. Oh god. No." "Can you see that Mrs Edwards? Open your eyes Mrs Edwards. Look at my hand in your pretty pussy. See? Like it?" "Fuck. Yes. Stop. No more. No. Fuck, yes." "What about this Mrs Edwards bitch?" "Aaw God, no. What are you doing? No. Stop. Shit. I can't stand it. FUCK." "This, Mrs Edwards slut, is called fist fucking." "Oh… Oh… Fuck… Brea- oh. Fuck yes… No. Fuck… Stop… Jesus no. Aaoow." "Watch now Mrs Edwards. I'm going to pull it out. Watching?" "Yes. Just do it bitch. AAAAAHHHH. Fuck Oh." "So Mrs Edwards. Did you enjoy your gift?" "Oh yes. Very much. Can you unlock me now Anne?" "If I must." "Oh you must, if you want your gift." "Mmm. I definitely want my gift Mrs Edwards." "Then you had better show me where it's going Anne." "I've wrapped it specially Mrs Edwards." "However did make those? Oh. I see." * * * I walked to the breakfast table exhausted already by the morning's events but still more than ready to give Mick his surprise present. I reached to place his cereal in front of him and had to move quickly as he made a grab for my arse. Don't want to give the game away now. Then looking through the kitchen door, I felt a rising panic as I saw a clear hand print on the hallway mirror. Best wipe that off, sharpish. I told Mick I'd be in the lounge waiting for my prezzy, then moved to hide the evidence of my morning's adventure. "Tea love?" Enquired Mick from the kitchen. "Please love." I sat as still as I could trying not to crinkle as Mick brought in the tea. "Thanks love." Mick sat heavily on the sofa looking quite pleased with himself. "What?" "What, what?" "Why the big grin?" "Well, to start with, it's not everyday you wake me with a blow job, and secondly I managed to keep your main present hidden this year." "Well? Where is it?" Mick rose from his seat and presented me with a badly wrapped box, which I opened with childish glee. After sitting breathless with wonder for what seemed like forever Mick asked; "Well? Do you like it?" "Oh Mick. It's wonderful. Thank you, thank you, thank you." I moved quickly into his arms and let him feel my tongue in his mouth. When he moved his arms to grab my arse again I pushed him away and took a step back. "What is it? What's wrong?" "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I haven't given you your present yet." He seemed a little confused at my effusive thanks and sudden rejection and I really wanted to fold him to my bosom but then he'd want to get his hands round my arse and that would surely ruin the surprise. "Well where is it then?" "Well there's this to start," Handing him a small, gift wrapped box, "and another here, under the tree. I'll just get it." On my hands and knees I crawled forward and lay my head on the floor in order to free my hands then reached back and lifted my skirt for him to see. I was in that position for some while before Mick noticed what I was actually doing. "Oh. A tube of KY." He gave me miserable crestfallen thanks. "You've got Christmas wrapping knickers on." "I know." "Where did you get those?" "I made them." "Why?" "To wrap your present. Duh." Mick stood non-plussed, holding a tube of KY Jelly in one hand and a look of bewilderment on his face. "Don't just stand there. Open your present." Still non-the-wiser Mick ripped open my giftwrap knickers and stared dully, as a thrill raced through from puss to nipples in anticipation. "What do you have in your hand Mick?" I asked him. He held it up for me to see from beneath the twinkling lights. "And what, last Tuesday, and six times since your birthday have you asked me to do with you?" The poor love was spinning his wheels trying to remember. "Shall I give you a clue?" I asked as I pulled apart my arse cheeks for him to get a proper look at his gift. His little faced was a picture.