Cider and Mistletoe

I raised an eyebrow, saying, “He can write. Add that to his list of wonderful accomplishments. Why are you telling me this? I’m not your helper, Santa. That’s Polly’s job.”

“Because, Sherrie berry, “ Peter said, “Nicky’s Christmas list consists of you!” He handed me the paper.

Written in blue crayon on a piece of Peter’s company stationary, it read:

Dear Santa Claus, I have been a very good boy this year. I ate all my veggies, did what my parents told me to do, paid my taxes, etc…you get the ideal. I will leave you a year’s supply of cookies if you give me what I want, which is all of Sherri’s kisses. Thank you, Santa.

Love Nicky.

Peter pointed to the round brown circles with red and green dots scattered on the page, saying, “Those are cookies with m&m’s cooked in them. I love those.”

I handed him the letter, retorting, “You boys did really good, but you spelled my name wrong. This Sherri isn’t me! Did you check to see if they drew on the walls, Polly? With all this creative ability, they are armed and dangerous!”

Nick stood close to be. I could feel the heat radiating from his lean body, as his cologne tantalized my nose with its woodsy scent. He began, “Sherrie…” The sound of breaking glass interrupted him.

Two men were punching each other. Barbara with her hands on her hips had a very smug look on her face. Nick muttered under his breath, “I knew this was going to happen.”

He and Peter jumped right into the thick of things, trying to restore order while not getting the daylights slugged out of them. The 7-foot Xmas tree and its wonderful and beautiful wrapped presents were getting the worst of the beating. Polly, bells jingling, came running from the pantry with a broom. In her slightly intoxicated state, she hit them all.

The whole scene was a slapstick comedy, like an Abbott and Costello movie. Uncertain as to what role I should play, I stood back. “I should get the mop and mop them all up,” I thought, since Polly’s ideal to sweep them away wasn’t working.

The fight ended rather abruptly. Polly, swinging her broom at on of the brawlers, missed and side swiped Barbara, knocking her backwards over the coffee table into a rather compromising position. She was caught between the coffee table and the sofa. The sight before us was rather exposing. Her dress had ridden up over her hips, showing us that she had forgotten her panties and what a sight! She was wearing a worn garter belt and stockings. Her pussy hair was very thick, bushy and black, looking like a birds nest between her legs. Ah, she was not a nature blonde. Her legs were wide open, causing her pussy lips to gape and pulse. I was horrorified, as I looked away, knowing that I would spent some time in front of a mirror, making sure mine didn’t look as gross as hers did in this position.

Apologizing, Polly tried to help her to her feet as the men stared. Barbara’s face was red hot, as she angrily brushed Polly’s hand away. Spiting out profanities, she declared she was never returning. She exited in a huff with her would be suitors in pursuit. The party broke up at this point. Not one of the remaining guests offered to help clean up. Polly saw everyone off with her usual kind-heartedness in spite of chaos surrounding her Xmas tree.

I spied Nick, fighting to get the tree back to its upright stance. I hurried to help. We silently started the cleanup process with Peter and Polly joining once the last of the guests had gone home. With order was restored, we fell on the couch.

Peter, removing his beard, said, “Nicky, I am going to have to slaughter a hog to get the imagine of Barbara’s twat erased from my memory!” He shuddered as if cold.

“Peter!” Polly said in a shocked tone.

Nick laughed, “ Man, you should have felt it! She had my hand up her skirt once, trying to get me to touch her privates. Let me do the seducing. Then to top it all, she asked me to move in with her! Peter, do you think I am that desperate?”

Peter shook his head, “Nick, after that experience you need a stiff drink. I know I would!”

Polly stood up. Looking at Peter, she said, “Santa, I think we need to retire to go over our game plan on Xmas eve. I think I have had enough for one night. Sherrie, pick whichever room you want to sleep in. I’ll put a nightgown in the spare bath for you to wear, along with a toothbrush and paste. You make yourself at home, dear. We are going to retire. ‘Night, Nicky.” She gave him a brotherly peck on the cheek. She extended her hand for Peter to grasp. “Let’s go, Santa.”

Now Nick and I were alone for the first time all evening. We sat in silence.

Nick stretched. Looking at me, he said, “Sherrie, I am not as young as I used to be. Those good ole boys just about got the best of me. I used to love to brawl in my college days, now I like to watch it on TV. Polly was kicking everyone’s ass with that broom.”

I laughed, “Yes, the whole fight was funny. The poor Xmas tree! I am amazed it survived.”

He raised an eyebrow, as he said, “What! No sympathy and tea for Barbara?” That question deserved no answer.

He laughed, “You got a kick out of her getting sacked by Polly. It made your night, didn’t it?”

I quietly said, “No, that wasn’t the highlight of my night, Nick.”

My tone was smooth and sensual, as I thought about the actual highlight of my evening. His kisses were so delightful. Remembering brought a small smile to my lips, as I glanced at him, saying, “But it was funny when Polly whacked her. She tumbled right over the coffee table…”

He interrupted, “Sherrie, lovely Sherrie, be honest and tell me the highlight of the evening.” His tone had undercurrents.

Goose bumps covered my arms, as all the alcohol I consumed that evening evaporated from my body. I was no longer tipsy on cider and peppermint schnapps, but drunk on desire for his kisses. “The truth?” I asked.

I noticed that his eyes were glued to my cleavage. I glanced down to see that the mistletoe that I had stuffed inside between my fine breasts was peeping out at him. I started to pull it out, but Nick stopped me. “Sherrie, how did mistletoe get into your dress? You know what you’re supposed to do under mistletoe, don’t you. Love?”

I didn’t say anything as he kissed the swelling at the top of my cleavage with Butterfly kisses that sent shivers through my body. “Your scent, Sherrie, what is it?” he asked.

Breathlessly, I whispered, “Opium.”

“No wonder that I crave your lips. You have made me an addict. Kiss me, I need a fix.” He said. He pulled me into his strong arms.

As his lips touched mine, I shivered. Nick pulled away, “Cold, Sherrie?”

“Yes,” I said, “keep me warm.” He pulled me into the heat of his arms.

I didn’t think about what ramifications I might face in the morning. Nor did I let moral values or that little voice that is always there in the back of my head stop me on this path to pleasure. I went with it as eagerly as a child goes to its loving parent. I felt at home in this man’s arms. Maybe the effects of the holiday spirit of giving were the reason that I was throwing caution to the wind, something I never did.

He pushed me back amongst the couch cushions, kissing the swell of my breasts before covering my body with his lean one. With lips lightly, touching mine, he stoked my soft hair. “I have wanted to do that all night, Sherrie. You are such an exquisite woman.”

I smiled, my eyes shining I know. I touched his chin with the tips of my fingers, feeling the beginning of stubble. This added a masculine sensual effect to his face.

He rubbed his face, asking, “I am bristly. Do I need to shave?” My answer was to kiss his chin, sucking it into my mouth.

I could feel his manhood harden as I sucked on his chin. When I released it, his mouth captured mine, giving me the kiss of the millennium. Our tongues fenced with each other, our hands tugging at clothing. When his hand slid up my skirt, I didn’t try to resist. He gave my leg a long stroke, starting at the knee on the inside, running up my stocking and over the edge, to stop at the bare flesh exposed above the stocking’s lacey top. He maneuvered his fingers over the fabric of my satin panties, pausing at the damp spot in the hot center. He pulled away from my mouth, kissing my hair he whispered, “Why are you wet, Sherrie?”

I placed both of my hands on his face, turning his head back to mine so that I could kiss him again while throwing caution to the wind and pushing my mound of Venus against his hand. He cupped the fullness of my pussy with his palm as he slid the cumbersome fabric to the side to allow his fingers access to my labia and clit. He paused for a moment over my shaved lips, enjoying the smoothness, I imagine.

The instant he touched my clit, I came. It surprised both of us. I soaked his fingers and my panty. He pulled hard at the fabric, which resisted at first, before surrendering to his strength. I barely felt the sting it made against my flesh as the cool night air embraced me. My wetness was now soaking my thighs, as it had no other place to go.

He sat up, holding my torn panty in his hand, saying to me, “Sherrie, I am claiming these as mine.” He inhaled the fragrance they held, saying, “You smell so delicious.” He caressed his face with the panty.

His next action was a much-welcomed one. He moved between my legs, pushing my thighs apart. He said nothing as he kissed my thighs for ages. I tried not to show my eagerness but couldn’t help it. He had me wringing and slowly grinding my body. Tracing the top of my upper thigh with his tongue, he paused, “What’s wrong? Do you have a need? Tell me…”

I arched my hips as an answer. But he needed words. “Tell me, Sherrie. What do you need?”

Brokenly, I whispered in a tortured state, “Nick…please…I want…oh, God…I want you to…”

His mouth on my labia stopped my torture. This man played havoc with my pussy. He would run his lips along the bare strip on my pussy lips, then dart his tongue over my swollen clit. He licked and teased me for a long time, bringing me close to the edge and then stopping just short of an orgasm.

I had my hands in his soft dark hair, grinding his face with wild abandonment, feeling like a wild animal lost in the needs of the flesh. It had been ages since I had experienced this kind of raw sexuality.

His tongue steadily stroking my clit sent me over the edge again. I came, wetness flowing over the blossom of my womanhood. He didn’t stop but continued to play with my throbbing clit as he slid a finger inside. “Cum again, Sherrie.” He commanded. I did.

My pussy walls gripped his finger as I shuddered out an orgasm. I felt him slid his finger deeper as he found my g-spot. “Here’s that knob. Found it. Feel good, Baby.” He steadily rubbed it, dancing his fingertips over it.

I felt the tension building in my body. I was climaxing at his demand, this time spraying him with a small amount of dew much to my surprise. Never had that happened before. I was a little embarrassed by it. But his kisses on my upper thigh comforted me, as did his words. “That’s a good girl. I need you as wet as you can get.”

He stood above, undressing for my viewing pleasure. Off came his sweater, showing me his tanned muscular hairy chest. I brushed my fingers over his flat tummy. He pushed my hands away, laughing. “Now Sherrie, patience is a virtue.”

He fumbled with his belt. I knew he did this on purpose to tease me. I yawned. Two can play. “Bored, again?” He asked. “Well, we can’t have this. Not while I am attempting to make incredible love to you.”

He pressed his body over mine. My arms encircled him, enjoying the feel of his muscular back. We kissed again for ages. I could feel his hard cock on the top of my thigh. I tried to touch him but he moved my hand, saying, no, commanding, “What do you want now, Sherrie? My cock…do you need me?”

Once again he stood before, his hardness monstrous. It looked like his pants were going to split open down the front. With wide-eyed wonder, I watched him unzip his pants to release his torrid cock. “ Oh my God,” I thought, “I can’t handle that!” His cock was close to ten inches and very thick. Perfectly chiseled in design, I saw every pore and vein on it. It’s purple velvet head, glistened from his pre-cum. I wanted to taste it.

Now I commanded, “Come here.”

He did. I placed a manicured finger at the tip, slowly circling it, then sliding it down the back of his tool to the hairy sacs at its base. He moaned, as my hand travel upwards to the tip. I sat up, pulling him between my legs. I rubbed my face up and down his cock. It’s satin smooth skin, alive and hot, pulsing with a mind of its own. He groaned my name.

I asked, “What is it, Nick? What do you need?” His own question now haunting him, “Do you need this?” I flicked the tip of my mouth over his glistening cap, licking up his juices. I got several inches in my mouth, holding them there and sucking. He purred as my mouth engulfed more of his cock. I tried not to choke but I did anyway, as he was so big.

His hands were in my hair urging me on. Instead of trying to swallow him whole, I nibbled on the sides and head, while stroking his balls and inner thighs.

He pulled away from me, fastening the button on his fly. “Sherrie, I am not fucking you on this couch like some teenager in heat.” He said as he lifted me into his arms.

Trying to be quiet but not succeeding he carried me upstairs to the bedroom he was using. “Polly’s night gown will not be used tonight, unless you want it, Sherrie.” He was asking me if I wanted our foreplay to become love play.

As a true Southern Gentle he was giving me the chance to decide if I wanted this to happen. “The gown be damned!” I said, sounding like a dime store romance novel. He laughed. “I will be right back,” he said.

He left the room in a run, quite comical with his cock sticking out of his trousers. I lay there debating if I should undress. I was still thinking when he returned with my torn panties, his sweater and our shoes. He locked the door behind him. “Can’t have anyone popping in on us unannounced.”

I smiled, thinking that if Polly and Pete knew what was happening that they wouldn’t be too shocked. I think they knew that Nick and I had been on a collision course down the highway to lust all night long.

He stood in front of me, this man who was the object of more desire and need than I have felt in years. He undid his pants and slid them down. Stepping out of them with his eyes on me, he posed flexing his muscles as if he were a bodybuilder, causing me to laugh. Still in his underwear and socks, he climbed on the bed beside me.

I smiled, saying, “Nick, love your under-roos. So…should we play cards or maybe play a game of “I spy!” I was teasing him, unsure of how I should behave. Should I be naughty or nice?

Nick said, “Sherrie, I don’t have any cards. I want to play find the mistletoe.” He stood up, pulling me off the bed. Seriously, he said, “I have not had the pleasure of enjoying a lady like you in a very long time, Sherrie. My life lacks the thrill and luster that a woman such as you generates in every pore of her being. I asked Santa for you and for once in my life he has actually come through. Now, Woman of Wonder, show me what my eyes yearn to behold and my mouth longs to taste!”

He reclined across the bed with his eyes roaming over my body, as if it were already unclothed. I slowly, unzipped the back of my dress, slipping it off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. In just my black sheer bra with the mistletoe sticking out and my black thigh highs, I joined him on the bed.

“I think that Santa would want you to unwrap the rest of your present, Nicky.” I said in a very low sensual voice.

Magnetically, our bodies melted together. We kissed for ages and ages with one kiss ending and another starting. I felt his hands at the back of my bra, unhooking it. My breasts were happy when he placed his strong hands on their bare skin. Lying on my back with him crouched above me: he ran his fingertips over my nipples. The mistletoe still clung the valley of my cleavage, begging for use. Pulling my right nipple taut, the mistletoe, to kiss me there.

“Careful,” I said, “Mistletoe can be deadly.”

He pulled harder on my nipple, “Your breasts are deadlier.” He leaned down to take the hard nipple in his mouth, suckling it like a child would for milk. I felt the sensations all the way to my clit, and I got wetter.

His fingers moved down my stomach, dancing over my pubic mound until they found my wet nether lips. “Sherrie, never have I seen any woman get as wet as you do!” He said.

“Is that bad?” I asked.

“Hell, no. Baby, it’s great. The wetter you get, the easier it will be for me to get this big cock inside.”

I wondered to myself if that would be possible. He was so huge and I had never tried one so large. My thoughts must have been transparent, because he suddenly had me in his arms, holding me tightly, saying, “My sweet wonderful sexy lady, I would never hurt you. If it doesn’t work, holding you all night and bringing you pleasure with my mouth and hands will be enough for me.” I wanted to give him as much pleasure.

I removed myself from his arms, kissing his chest. I hooked my fingers under the band of his underwear, tugging them down. I slid them off, along with his socks. He was now totally naked before me. I gazed at his body for a moment, drinking in the sight of his torrid massive cock.

I started my voyage of kisses at his ankles; soft warm wet pecks, traveling at a mile over the speed limit, until they stopped at his inner thighs. I nestled between his legs, kissing and licking around his inner and outer thighs, once and a while flicking across his balls. I used one hand to massage his pubic bone and lower stomach. The other hand traced the length of his beautiful cock while kissing his thighs.

My fingers encountered wetness at the tip of his throbbing cock. I raised my fingers to my lips, tasting the nectar while looking at him. I had him hypnotized. I worshipped his manhood with my mouth, sucking all the precome off its head. I would slide my mouth down the shaft, let the head pop out to suck only it, and then back down again. My hand became an extension of my mouth, as it covered what areas my mouth didn’t. They sang a duo for his cock’s pleasure. He squirmed, as his body manifested a huge orgasm just for me. He cried out as he came; more in dismay that in pleasure.

As his cock jettisoned it’s steamy load into my mouth, on my face, hair and hands, I watched his face. Our eyes locked. When his shuddering subsided, I removed my mouth from his still hard cock. I couldn’t believe the amount of cum. It was everywhere. “Should I go clean up?” I thought to myself. Instead, I licked some of it off my hand, while he watched.

He reached for some tissue that was on the bedside table. He cleaned me up as if I were a child who had chocolate everywhere. “I made a mess, didn’t I? It’s your fault. You made me coum before I wanted to. You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? You had me at your mercy, something you fancied doing all night,” he laughed. “Don’t know of anyone who has your oral talents. You drive me crazy. Now guess what, Sherrie? Its my turn.”

He pushed me back amongst the pillows, bypassing my mouth and breasts, going straight for my soaking wet pussy. Once again he made magic on my hot wet center, fucking with his mouth, tongue and fingers, making me cum over and over. I lost count of my climaxes. When he tired, I was a contented limp noodle.

He covered me with his body, kissing me, letting me taste my juices on his mouth. I felt his hard rigid cock, twitching at the top of my thigh. “Sherrie, let’s try. I ache for you.”

I wrapped my legs around his urging him within. I was on fire; wanting, needing, craving, and not caring about anything except his manhood inside me. He placed the bulbous head at my wet tender entrance. I trembled as he slid in the huge cap. “Are you okay? You feel good.”