Sunday, December 9, 2012
Snogs with Santa, Ho, ho, ho!
I'm taking part of the 9th day of Blissemas and doing Victoria Blisse's Sunday Snog. Theme this week is snogs with Santa. I have the perfect snog! Here's a little bit from my story I Can Stuff Your Stocking, one of two stories in Kinky for Christmas.
An oldie but a hottie.
From I Can Stuff Your Stocking
“Don‟t just think you can get me wherever and have your way with me.” She was sputtering. And had she really said have your way with me? She had.
“Oh, can‟t I? I felt you squirming.” He spun her quickly and pinned her to the stark white wall in the narrow corridor. Her ex-husband sniffed up her throat, bit her earlobe. When she wiggled under him, he kissed her.
Gently at first and then rougher so that she moaned. He knew her inside and out. He knew what buttons to push, and right then that seemed fine with her.
“Where is that sleigh?” she asked, running her fingers over his red furry pants. His hard-on felt enormous, and she realized it had been a hundred years since she had had sex. Or it felt like it.
“Your carriage awaits, little girl.” He caught her up under his arm like he was carrying a football. It usually annoyed her when he did that, unless it was turning her on because he was playing caveman. Right then, she was so turned on she felt the cotton crotch of her jolly red panties grow moist.
“Be careful with me.”
“Oh, I will. Right up until I toss you into the backseat and fuck you 'til you scream,” he growled.
Prudence felt her stomach dip and her head spin but she laughed. “You sweet talker, you.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” Jack said softly.
“Who you calling a ho?” she asked, and then he was the one to laugh.
Jack tossed her into the back of his van. He had driven his work vehicle to the moonlighting job. She knew the van. This wouldn't be their first time in his big gutted white behemoth.
Paint cans and drop cloths lay strewn around her, but they were invisible to her as Jack pushed at her black velvet skirt. He bared her hose and pulled them down with his teeth. “Is it okay to say I have been having wet dreams about my ex-wife?” he asked, almost conversationally as he pulled her panties down, too. “About fucking you. How warm you are inside and how wet. Tight and ready. How you make that crazy noise when you come really hard.” All the while he was blowing his warm breath on her clit and touching her wet slit with his fingertips. He kissed her inner thighs and Prudence thought she would die right here, panties around her knees in a clunker of a painting van.