Steamy-Stories

Betting her Ass. Another look at ‘girls night out.’ Based on a post by Farmer Jill. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It was the usual thing, Dexter and Mia Johnson were married 19 years, and everyone thinks they have it all together. They met at a 4th of July fireworks. The fireworks were over, and it started to rain. Dexter had a coat and Mia didn't. He lent her his and the rest is history. Two kids came along, Allison and Amy. Two good kids, two good jobs, a nice house in the suburbs. Dexter and Mia were more in love now than when they first married. The only thing Dexter could complain about was Mia's friends Cynthia and Roxanne. Cynthia or Cyndi (sounds like sin for a reason) was married to Chet, and they had no children. Cyndi was a beautiful woman. She knew it and used it. Cyndi liked to try new things and always talked about the latest concepts. They weren't always new ideas, but they were new to her, and she spoke about them with passion like a true believer. Cyndi's latest was that the three women should start going out one night a month together, the dreaded girls' night out ( or Girls’ Night, for short). Roxanne went by Roxy, and if Cyndi was beautiful, Roxy was gorgeous. She was married to Tom. They had a single child. Roxy wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer and usually would get drawn into Cyndi's latest ideas. Sometimes this caused Roxy some grief because she didn't always "get" all the fine details of Cyndi's latest obsession. TikTok trends were an example of this. Cyndi got into a phase of TikTok and never should have told Roxy about "The one chip challenge." Luckily, Roxy only had some bad diarrhea. Thankfully, Tom or Mia usually caught Roxy before she did something really stupid. Dexter was used to laughing as Mia told him about Cyndi's latest and greatest but when the topic of a girl's night out came up he did not laugh. "Mia I'm not sure if you're asking me if you can go or just telling me about it but it's a hard no." Mia was taken aback, Dexter had hard lines, but she hadn't been near one in a while. "Dex, what do you mean, hard no? Cyndi said that this could be good for a marriage. I also don't like you saying hard no, you can't order me around." "Mia, when we got married, we committed to one another. That means we have a veto over the other person. In my mind, it means that each person should know what would be a veto thing to the other and therefore not do it in the first place, or in other words, use a self-veto. Let me give you a real-world example. 3 weeks ago, all of the guys were going to the stripper bar after work because Davis was getting married. I didn't think you would like me to go to a stripper bar. I also didn't think it was appropriate for me to go. I imposed a veto on myself and told them I wasn't going. I gave Tony $50 bucks to buy a round on me, and I came home. Maybe you would have said yes, maybe you wouldn't care but I don't think it is appropriate behavior for me, your husband. If I had of wanted to go and asked you and you said no, I would not have gone and respected your veto." Mia spent some time digesting Dexter's words. Part of the reason they had such a good marriage is because they talked things out. Mia also remembered a few times when Cyndi's schemes had almost cost them money before Dexter pointed out the flaws. "Dex I wasn't sure if I was going to ask you if I could go along, but now I don't have to. I am not going but I am interested to see if what Cyndi think's it will achieve will actually happen." "Mia I love you more than anything, and I'm glad you aren't going to go with Cyndi and Roxy. I would also be interested to hear about whether or not it pans out like Cyndi thinks." Dexter never wanted to close the door on communication. Moreover, he knew he had been kind of harsh and didn't want Mia to think him as a bully. He was not changing his mind however, about the Girls’ Night. Dexter was also taking nothing for granted and was going to talk to Chet and Tom as soon as possible. Three days later while they were eating supper, Mia told Dexter about Cyndi and Roxy's Girls’ Night the night before. Mia was pretty excited. "Umm, Dex; Cyndi and Roxy went out last night, Thursday's is lady's night at Maxi's. They told me it was great." Dexter pondered for a moment, something about Maxi's was out there that he couldn't remember. Then it came to him. "Isn't Maxi's like a pickup bar?" "I'm not sure about that, but it is the happ'n place to be in this town. Cyndi said that Chet didn't know what hit him when she got home. Roxy said that Tom liked how rejuvenated she was. So far, this seems to be working like they said." Mia knew better than to push any harder about the Girls’ Night and going with her friends. She definitely wanted to go with them, but Dexter said no, and it wasn't worth a big fight. The following Wednesday Dexter met up with Chet and Tom for a beer. After beers were ordered, Dexter got to the point. "Thanks for coming, Chet and Tom. I really appreciate you coming out to speak with me. I was wondering about your wives and them going out together once a month." Chet laughed, "Yes, the good'ole girl's night out. Cyndi's latest thing. What would you like to know?" "It seems your wives have been telling my wife Mia about how great it is. Specifically, that it has made a difference in the bedroom." Now Tom laughed, "That's a laugh, Roxy came home the first time all hot and bothered and wanted to get it on. She was all worked up. I said No thanks. I told her that I had no interest in being the vicarious recipient of her lust for other guys. She wasn't happy about that, and tried to deny it. I told her that once she was truly excited for me, lusting for me, then I would be available. She was shocked that I turned her down for sex. The girls went out on Thursday, and by Saturday, she was all over me, once the kid went to bed. Sure, it was great, but I think there was some left-over lust from Thursday that reduced it from awesome." Chet had taken a different approach, "That's a good idea, but it's not what I did. Instead, on the Wednesday night before, I took Cyndi to bed right after supper and gave her my best. By the time we fell asleep, I was worn out. When she came home the next night from her Girls’ Night, I pretended to be asleep; so any amorous intentions she might have had, didn't get fulfilled." Dexter tried to match up what the husbands said, with what their wives told Mia. Then Chet continued, "What about you Dex? Why isn't Mia going with our wives to the Girls’ Night?" "I told her no. I told her that we had veto rights over the other's actions, and I didn't want her to go. I told her I saw no benefit, only a downside." Tom was impressed, "That's what I should have done. Sorry Chet, but Cyndi tends to lead Roxy down the garden path. Anyways it made me sit down with Roxy and have a serious conversation about fidelity; and that if she did anything that didn't pass the husband test we’re done. What did Mia specifically say they told her?" "She said that your wife was rejuvenated by the experience; and that Chet didn't know what hit him." Chet laughed louder, "I think that Cyndi got that confused; she said that to me, after I wore her out on Wednesday. She said, What got into you? I don't know what hit me.' She liked our Wednesdays before her Girls’ Night, at least that's what she told me. So, I guess in a way it is good for us, but frankly I've never complained about the sex with Cyndi, anyways." Tom looked confused, "Rejuvenated, is not the word I would use, but it sort of works. Roxy, before this Girls’ Night thing wasn't initiating very much, but now she did. Not that she turned me down very often, when I initiated. But you know, it's nice when they come after you for a change." Dexter was feeling much better about things after he left the bar. Chet and Tom seemed to have things well-in-hand. Mia said nothing about the Girls’ Night for the next couple of months, but her friends wouldn't let it go, that she wasn't coming. Cyndi especially wanted to get Mia to come. Cyndi had discovered something called the hotwife lifestyle that she wanted to couple with the Girls’ Night. She called Mia and invited her out for coffee on the Monday before the women were having another Thursday Girls’ Night. Cyndi was already seated when Mia arrived. "Hi Cyndi, what's so important that we have to meet for coffee today?" "Oh, Mia! There's so much to tell you. But first I have to ask, can you remind me why don't you come to our girls’ night out?" Mia was a little embarrassed about this. She had told Cyndi and Roxy she wasn't interested; she didn't want to tell them that Dexter said no. "I'm just not interested Cyndi; it's not my thing." "Come on, Mia! It's loads of fun. It makes a girl feel young and wanted, desired even." "Dex wants me, I'm certain he desires me, I don't need anyone else for that." "Come on Mia, you aren't even a little bit interested in seeing what happens? Maybe Roxy and I are doing things there, that have really spiced things up in the bedroom." Truthfully, Mia was very interested in being part of the Girls’ Night. She tried to keep the eagerness under control, and out of her tone, "What kind of things have you two been doing?" "Oh, a few little things that might not pass the husband test. But don't worry; Chet's fully on board and is reaping the results." Mia was shocked. Chet was okay with this? "Sure, he is. It gets him right worked up that we're out flirting and things. He especially likes it when I come home and give him the details." If Mia had a fault, it was being too trusting. If Cyndi was telling her this, it must be true. This just made Mia want to go to the next Girls’ Night, all the more. "Wow, well, I can talk to Dex about it. I'll see what he thinks." Cyndi saw an opening and drove in the wedge, "What about what he thinks? Aren't you your own boss? Does he

Busted Parents: 2 Stories “Do as we say, not as we did.” Based on a post by yellowjacket66. Listen to the Podcast at my First Time. Her Parents Caught Us Naked But Haley and I discovered their shameful secrets. "I'll rip your fucking dick off; and stuff it down your fucking throat, if you knock-up my daughter." It was Mr. Boyd Summers, the father of my girlfriend Haley. He was very angry. Haley and I, both 18, having recently graduated from high school were sitting in her parents' kitchen listening to the diatribe from Haley's father. Haley spoke up, "Daddy, we're not doing anything like that. Please don't say things like that." Mr. Summers continued, he was drunk and pissed-off. He ranted at me, "Don't you tell me you're not fucking my daughter!" But I hadn't told him I wasn't fucking his daughter; his daughter had. She continued to defend herself. "Daddy, please! Josh and I have not been having sex." Mr. Summers said, "Bull; shit! Don't lie to me, little girl." "I'm not lying." She said. Haley was now crying. Mrs. Summers entered the fray, "Boyd, don't speak like that to your daughter." He said, "She's just a slut! Just like you and your sister." Mrs. Summers ignored the words and calmed him down. "Boyd, sit here! Let your daughter explain herself." Oh boy, this would have to be a good explanation. Mr. Summers sneered, "Okay, explain how you and this asshole” Boyd sneered at me; “Came home naked? What were you doing, reading poetry to each other?" He was drunk and angry. I could see his point, though. Haley and I had showed up at the front door to her house, buck naked. It was a Saturday night in late May, and I had picked her up for a date at 6:30. We left, fully clothed, only to return at 1:30AM, without our clothes. Seeing their slender, beautiful daughter, naked with some kid, had to be an incredible shock to her parents. I walked her  from the driveway to her front door. It was locked because we violated curfew. Haley had knocked on the door and we both retreated to hide behind some shrubs. My plan was to get the hell out of there once Haley had contacted her mother and gotten inside the house. Her mom opened the door, to find no one on the porch. The conversation went like this; "Pist, Mom. Can you get me a coat. I'm cold." Her mother said, "Well come inside. Why are you hiding?" Haley said, "I lost my clothes. Someone stole them." "Where's Josh?" "He's out here too." I had asked her to just go inside and not involve me. It would only make things worse if she were naked and with me. "Does he have clothes on?" Haley answered, "No. They stole his clothes too." That's when Haley's dad came outside. "Helen, Wha da fuckis going on?" He asked. We could tell immediately that he'd been drinking. Haley's mom explained; “Boyd, Haley and her boyfriend were saying their clothes had been stolen.” "Whah dah fuck!" He said. Haley said to me, "Josh, Let's just go to your house." I imagine my mom would be more receptive to me bringing home a naked girl. She probably expected shit like that from me. Haley's mom said, "No. Get in here; both of you!"  "I don't want Daddy to see me naked." Haley protested. Boyd said, "Why not. Probably half the city has seen you naked." Anyone on the block could have heard Boyd announce his daughter’s nakedness. He was hot, and getting hotter. But he didn't actually want to see his daughter naked, so he turned and went in the house while Mrs. S got a couple of coats from the closet and handed them to us in the bushes. She gave Haley a long coat, but I had just a short coat that really didn't cover my ass and my dick was sticking out. Having a girl's mother see your cock is not going to create a favorable impression. It was enough to get us in the house. Mrs. S got a pair of her husband's work pants for me, and a sweatshirt. Haley went to her room and put on some clothes. We were hoping that would be the end of it, but Mr. S called her down to the kitchen and told me to sit my ass down. That's when he threatened to cut my dick off and shove it down my throat. He was a big, rough guy, and I believed him. Anyway, Haley and I tried to explain what had happened. She told the story, the G-rated version. "Josh and I went to the movies and afterward we were driving around talking." Partially true, we'd gone to the drive-in where we had necked furiously through the entire movie. Neither of us could remember what the flick was about. I was playing with her naked tits the entire time. She continued, "After the movie, we drove around for a bit. We just like to drive around and talk about things." We were looking for a place to park. It was years ago, before cell-phones and the internet. Haley continued, "You remember the old rock quarry out past Hooverville, where we would swim during the summers." Her mom and dad nodded. "I convinced Josh to go swimming. It was such a nice night and I remembered all the good times when you had taken us there when we were kids." She was sucking-up to them, playing the little daughter but not emphasizing that she went swimming while naked with her boyfriend. I spoke up and said, "It was my idea to go swimming. It wasn't, but I was trying to shield Haley's honor. She said, "No, it was my idea. We didn't have swim suits, so I convinced Josh we should skinny-dip. He didn’t want to, but finally gave in, because it was very dark and he didn’t want me to get hurt and not be able to help. We'd never done anything like that before.”  I hoped they believed it. This part about it being her idea was true. When Haley suggested we both strip and go swimming, it actually didn't take me more than a second to agree. We'd been to the drive-in movie. We'd gone there on dates half-a-dozen times. We'd graduated from just kissing to where I stripped Haley to the waist and spent a couple of hours playing with her fascinating tits. I took my shirt off too. I also had my hands in her pants, playing with her virgin pussy and rubbing her smooth, soft ass. I sucked her tits and put my fingers inside her. She pulled on my cock. She had gotten me off many times. She would use her hands to satisfy me, which avoided my urge to go further. She would come too. Her crotch would get so warm that I couldn't believe it. We steamed up the car windows, which obscured our view of the movie, but we didn't care. We were young and in love. After the movie, we drove around as we said. The quarry she mentioned was a popular 'make-out' spot where teens like us would 'park'. Haley continued telling her folks, "We were swimming, when a couple of guys saw our car and pulled up. Then they saw our clothes on the hood of Josh's car, and took them." It was true. We were swimming in the cool deep water, and when a few guys we knew from school showed up. They knew my car. "Hey Josh. What are you doing?" One of them said. It was a guy named Eddie. He called a few times and I said, "I'm just taking a piss." "Bullshit. Your clothes are on your car. Are you taking a piss or whacking off." "Okay. I'm just swimming. I'll talk to you guys next week." Eddie asked, "Are you alone?" I said I was, but he said, "Well is this your bra and panties on the hood of your car." I begged them to just be on their way, but they were enjoying their mastery of the situation. "Who's with you?" "None of your business. Please just leave us alone." He said, "It must be Haley Summers in there with you. Her ID is in her jeans." His friend john said, "She must be naked. I'd like to see that." I said, "We are wearing swim suits (a lie)." Carl, another of the guys said, "Why don't you two come out and say hello. You must be getting cold in that water." It was true. The water was very cold. My dick had shriveled to the size of a peanut. We both had goosebumps and Haley's nipples were hard, like little pebbles. The banter went back and forth with them wanting us to come out and me trying to get them to go away. Haley asked them to please leave. I offered money, but they weren't interested and I didn't have much anyway. It was a stalemate, but we were in the losing position. We were shivering from the cold water. Finally, they said, "We'll wait over here by our car while you two come out." Haley was very cold and said, "Let them see. I really don't care. We won't see them again since school is over." We had graduated and probably wouldn't cross paths with the three guys very often again, although two of them were juniors and would undoubtedly spread salacious stories around school next year. It pissed-me-off that they would say embarrassing things that might detract from Haley's reputation, but we had no options. So, I went first. Haley hung back in the bushes. They had taken our clothes from the car hood, including my wallet and the car keys. I tried to talk them into returning my stuff, but they wouldn't do it. I was embarrassed, standing there naked. They'd seen me naked after gym class. Haley was the prize. "We want to see Haley naked." Eddie said. John said, "I want to see those titties of hers that she flaunts around school." Haley was a very popular girl. She had a killer body and a nice set of boobs. Many young men drooled over her. She'd only started at our school for her senior year (and was 18), but had attracted many invitations for dates. She went out with a number of guys, but she wouldn't 'put out', so the more lecherous dudes left her alone. I was in American History class next to her, and asked her out in a moment of rare courage. She accepted and we had been 'going steady' for the last four months of the school year. As time went on, we did more and more, but she had limits and I proceeded very cautiously, not wanting to disrespect her; but damn, she made me hot. Haley was a young woman with glands and sexual desires too. We hadn't had sex. She was telling her daddy the truth. We sure were proceeding toward it though. She wanted to wait at least until we had graduate

Babysitting Perks A Snowstorm leaves the sitter stuck at her client's house. Based on a post by lily ann. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. I spent most nights of my senior year in high school babysitting. It was my parent's fault, really. Apparently having a real job would affect my grades too much, so I was stuck earning my money by spending my nights in various houses, feeding Kraft Dinner and hot dogs to hyper-active kids while their parents took a night off. It wasn't terrible, by any means. In fact, I took it quite seriously. I don't mind children, and at most places I had full access to the fridge while I finished off my homework after putting the kids to bed. The pay wasn't bad, either. I liked to play games with the kids and most of the time, the kids asked for me back before their parents did. I had a pretty steady clientele, most within walking distance of my house. It was convenient for me; I had procrastinated getting my driver's license so long that I was 18 and still only had my learner's license. It was late February when Mr. Riley called the first time. I gave my cell phone number out to my clients, and he was lucky enough to call me on one of my nights off. I was in the bathtub when I answered. "Hello?" "My name is George Riley. I'm looking for Anna Marchand," replied the person on the other end. I immediately liked his voice. It wasn't too deep, but it was soft and smooth. I was almost tempted to consider it calming, but he sounded slightly stressed. "You've reached her," I said. "Oh; hi, Anna.  I'm a friend of the Anderson's, and they recommended you as a babysitter. I've got a few late meetings next Friday, and my regular sitter isn't available. I was wondering if you'd be available to watch my son." I shifted in the tub, hoping he didn't hear the water splash. "I usually take Friday nights off, but it sounds like you could use the help." "I really could," he said. "I'm afraid I can't offer you more than your regular rate or anything;” "It's fine," I interrupted. "I don't mind, sir, really. I'd love to babysit for your son." "Thank you so much," he said, sounding thoroughly relieved. "His name is Kyle, and he's three. I would need you from around five until pretty late." "Not a problem," I said. I got the rest of the details from him, and made a note of his address. He lived on the other side of town, but I was sure my mom would be okay with driving me. Friday came along and I went home after school. I had worn a cute skirt to school and debated on wearing it to the Riley's, but decided against it;  three year olds could be really active and I didn't want to deal with the skirt. Instead I put on my favorite pair of jeans, dark blue and fitting snugly, with a tight blue scoop neck t-shirt. I never tried to dress provocatively when I went to babysit, but I did try to look fairly nice. I rarely got to go out with friends or boys, because I always seemed to be taking care of someone else's kids. Usually I was alright with it; not dating just meant I didn't have to deal with all the drama my friends did, and there were very few guys I knew that I was really interested in, anyway. I knew there was a reason for it. I would never tell any of my friends, but I found a lot of the men I babysat for much more appealing than any guy my age. I babysat for a lot of babies and toddlers, so their parents tended to be either late twenties or early thirties; not that much older than me, at any rate. A lot of the men were good-looking, and more than once I found my mind fixed on one of them while I got off before falling asleep. I didn't know about Mr. Riley, though. The Anderson's were a couple in their early forties, and since they had referenced me, I figured Mr. Riley might be a bit older than the usual men I babysat for. Even still, I put a little bit of effort into my outfit. The t-shirt clung nicely to my tits, which were a nice size; 36 C, and fairly firm. I had a push-up bra underneath, which showed just a hint of cleavage. It fit slightly looser around my stomach. While I would never consider myself fat, I didn't have the hard, flat tummies that all my friends seemed to work towards. I didn't mind, though. It was a small price to pay for having great hips and a round ass. I knew that if I tried to lose any weight, I'd lose those curves, and that was not something I was willing to give up to have a flat stomach. After putting on just a bit of makeup and brushing my long hair off my face, I grabbed my backpack and went to ask my mom to drive me over. My mom dropped me off at quarter to five. I walked up the driveway. The house was in a fairly good neighborhood and looked pretty nice. I rang the doorbell and waited patiently. The door was opened a few moments later by a man who, I was surprised to see, looked to be in his early thirties. He was good looking, about 6'2'' and fairly toned, with deep brown eyes and dark brown hair. He was wearing a nice suit, but looking slightly frazzled. "Mr. Riley?" I asked. "Yeah, you must be Anna?" I smiled. "Nice to meet you, sir." He smiled and opened the door. I turned around and waved at my mom, who had been waiting to make sure we had the right address. Mr. Riley led me into the house and offered to take my jacket. I smiled and gave it to him, looking around the house as he put it away. It was nice, but a little messy. There were toys everywhere and I could hear a TV playing a kid's show in the next room. "Sorry about the mess," Mr. Riley said, returning without my jacket. "I haven't had time to clean anything up." "It's fine," I said, smiling. "No, it's embarrassing." He smiled at me apologetically. I grinned. He was very attractive, especially when he smiled. I was glad I had put a bit of effort into my outfit, and briefly let myself wonder what he was like in bed. My thoughts were interrupted by a little boy rushing into the front hall. Mr. Riley turned and lifted the boy. "This is Kyle," he said. Kyle looked at me shyly, but he was smiling. He was absolutely adorable, with big brown eyes just like his father's, and lighter brown hair that fell in his face. He had a smudge of dirt across his cheek and his father wiped it off tenderly. "Hi Kyle," I said. "I'm Anna. I'm going to be here with you tonight." "Say hi, Kyle," Mr. Riley said, nudging the little boy. "Hi," Kyle said quietly. Mr. Riley put him down and Kyle ran back into the other room. "I've got to finish getting ready for my meetings," he said. "If you wouldn't mind watching Kyle?" "Of course," I replied, "that's what I'm here for." I walked into the other room and sat on the couch. Kyle looked up from the floor, where he was playing with some cars. I smiled at him, and he stood up, picking his toys up and walking over to the couch. "Wanna play?" he asked softly. By the time Mr. Riley poked his head in to tell me he was leaving, Kyle and I were playing cars. Kyle hardly noticed his father leaving, making my job easier. Kids always hate it when their parents go. He was a good kid, and very talkative. We played cars until I decided it was time for him to eat. Over dinner, Kyle told me about his mom. I wasn't exceptionally surprised to find out that his parents were divorced, but I was shocked to find out how much Kyle knew about it; especially how easily he told me about how his mother just walked out. It's surprising how much information kids can absorb, and I felt so bad for the poor kid that I gave him an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. It was probably a bad decision on my part; the extra sugar hyped him up so much that I had trouble getting him to bed. By the time he finally fell asleep, it was an hour and a half past his bedtime, and I was exhausted from chasing him around. I felt bad for disobeying what Mr. Riley had asked, but figured I could explain it when he got home. After Kyle was asleep, I tidied up the den and kitchen before settling myself on the couch. I turned the TV on and started studying. It didn't take me long to finish my homework, so I spent some time channel surfing and reading some magazines that Mr. Riley had on the coffee table, checking on Kyle every once in a while. I was so tired that I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I was startled awake when I heard the front door open. I sat up and a magazine fell off my lap just as Mr. Riley entered the room. He smiled at me. "Did I wake you up?" he asked. I yawned. "I guess so," I answered, laughing. "I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep." He laughed and entered the room, bending down to pick up the magazine I dropped. "Did Kyle wear you out?" I smiled at him. "Well, it's my fault, really." I blushed. "I felt kind of bad for him, so I gave him a little extra ice cream after dinner. He went to bed a little later than you said. I'm sorry." "Oh, that's fine," Mr. Riley said. "It's rare that he likes babysitters, so a little extra ice cream might have been okay." He frowned for a moment. "Why did you feel bad for him?" I bit my lip nervously. "Well, he just started talking about; about his mom; and I just;” Mr. Riley smiled, holding a hand up to cut me off. "I understand." I took a good look at Mr. Riley. He had a young-looking face, but he looked tired and really tense. His tie was loosened slightly and he had taken off his jacket, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. He caught me looking at him and laughed a bit. "I'm a mess, I know," he sighed, sitting on the couch. "It's been hard since; well; she just left. I love my son but she was the one who stayed home with him. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm supposed to balance him and my job." I smiled, a little unsure of what to say, and he seemed to notice. "Sorry," he said. "It's okay," I answered. "Well, you know, if you need help I can always come over and babysit." He smiled at me again. "I'll keep it in mind. And thanks for cleaning up, you didn't have to do that." I smiled back. "It wasn't a pro

Joey Visits An Overheated Milf On Nude Day, MILF scores her neighbor boy’s cock. Based on a post by silkstockingslover. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "It's so fucking hot in here," Sarah Waterton sighed. It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of July, her air conditioning wasn't working, it was a hundred degrees outside, and it didn't feel much cooler than that inside her house; perhaps even hotter; even with all the windows wide open. She was glad her period ended last night. She was about to invite herself over to Carol’s backyard pool. She was doing some dishes wearing only a bikini, and she was seriously considering discarding those two tiny pieces of fabric too, when there was a knock at the door. The mother of two (her daughter Cynthia was away for a summer session at college, and her son Nate had recently graduated from high school) went to the door and was surprised to see Nate's best friend, Joey, standing there. Although she wasn't actually naked, she felt a little self-conscious to be standing in front of an eighteen-year-old guy so scantily dressed. "Hi, Miss Waterton," Joey greeted, trying to keep his jaw from plummeting down to the porch's floor like in a Loony Toons cartoon, since his all-time MILF fantasy was standing right in front of him, in a bikini that couldn't possibly hide her enticingly voluptuous tits. "Hi, Joey. Nate isn't home," she said, taking in the boy's appearance. He was slightly dorky as a younger teen, but he'd pretty much grown into a ruggedly handsome man in the past year. She'd known Joey since he was five, when her young family moved in across the street from Joey’s family. Her son and he had been best friends ever since. "Yeah, I think I left my charger in the basement game room, last time I was here," he said, trying hard not to peer into the valley of pendulous tit ravine that was beckoning him in. "Oh, sure; go ahead and check," Miss Waterton said warmly, letting him through the doorway. She couldn't help noticing he'd taken several glimpses at her swaying tits, with pretty much acres of them showing. He came in and said, "Oh shit, it's a sauna in here!" "Yeah, the air conditioner broke down this morning," the sweaty MILF sighed heavily. "Umm, I could take a look at it," Joey offered, as he tried not to stare at his best friend's Mom's tits too blatantly; and failing. "You could?" she asked as she closed the door, perhaps unwisely, because of the heat. "Yeah, I work during the summers for my Uncle Frank's plumbing and heating business, so I have a fair amount of experience not only with toilets and such, but also air conditioners and heaters," he explained, now admiring her long legs. She was really one hot older woman; and he could easily fill a ‘Big Gulp’ cup full with all the loads he'd shot while imagining he was fucking her. "That would be great," Sarah said gratefully, "I called every company I could google, and they all either didn't answer so I left a message they didn't answer, or they said they couldn't come over until the middle of next week at the earliest." "Yeah, they're all swamped during this heat wave," Joey said. "My uncle took a three-day weekend off for his fortieth wedding anniversary, or I'd be working today too." "Then thanks to you, today is my lucky day," she said. "I can't promise anything, but I'll give it a go," he said, trying not to ignite the throbbing cock in his shorts, and doing his best to hide that he desperately needed to adjust himself. Sarah happened to glance down and see an undeniable tent in the teen's pants. Part of her was flattered that she must have caused that erection, while another part of her was embarrassed for the same reason. "Is there anything you need from me?" He said, "Not really. I'll just go downstairs and take a look at the furnace." "The furnace?" she asked, that not making any sense to her. "Yeah, the air conditioner unit outside runs through the furnace in the basement," he explained, "that's why you can just switch the thermostat on the wall from heating to cooling and back again." "Oh, silly me," she laughed at herself, "that's so obvious." "No worries," he said, "it's likely not something you've ever needed to put any thought into," "I didn't until it stopped working," the sweaty MILF answered sourly. "I'll go check on it." "Okay, thanks." Joey took one more subtle look, or at least he thought it was subtle, at his best friend's Mom's cleavage, before heading downstairs. Sarah noticed his additional peek at her tits and the tent in his shorts as he left. Oddly; and confusingly; she felt a little tingle in her pussy. She supposed it wasn't that odd though, since he was actually a good looking young man. Plus, she hadn't been fucked in eight months. Her husband had left her for another woman two years ago. She'd gone on a couple of dates here and there since, but even though she'd had a terrible quickie eight months ago, when the guy had lasted less than two minutes and left her unsatisfied, she'd only ever come from her toys; of which she had a continuously growing collection, since she had a ferocious sexual appetite. In addition to three different expensive vibrators, she had a suction cup dildo for the bathroom wall, and hidden inside her walk-in closet was a Sybian. Yes, it had been several thousand dollars of expensive, but fuck, did it give her some great orgasms! But with all that said, she'd be lying if she claimed she didn't miss the great sensations of a real man with a living cock. She went to the washroom to pee, washed her hands, and came back to the kitchen to pull out the fixings she needed to make a salad. No way was she turning on the stove today; not even a burner! If Joey couldn't fix the air conditioner, she was definitely going out for dinner, and then perhaps to an air conditioned movie theatre. Once the salad was made, Joey came upstairs no longer wearing a shirt and said, "I'm going out back to look at the outside compressor." "Okay, sounds good," the suddenly distracted MILF said. Yes, she'd realized her son's best friend had bulked up in his senior year, but until this moment, she'd only seen him as Nate's nerdy friend. He'd finished high school with a 98% GPA for the four years, and would be attending UC Berkeley in the fall on a full ride scholarship, yet at this moment while she secretly admired his chiseled, sweaty chest, she saw him for the first time as an attractive man. He headed out the back door, and Sarah watched him leave, looking at him from the back end, and also for the first time, she noticed he had a great ass, and a rippled back. "What the fuck?" Sarah said to herself out loud, shaking her head for looking at her son's friend like he was a piece of meat. She definitely needed to get laid, and soon! She ate her salad, and he came back inside, saying, "I think I know what the problem is." "Is it fixable?" Sarah asked, the eighteen-year-old's impressive chest now all sweaty, and she couldn't help thinking how she'd like to lick that sweat right off of him. "I believe so," he said. "But to be sure, I need to check something else on the furnace." "Okay," she said, unable not to admire his perfect chest and pulsing biceps. While Joey headed downstairs, he sensed she was staring at him. He shook his head to clear away the impossible thought. Although during his senior year, he'd experienced a terrific reversal in his luck with the ladies. After a summer of plumbing work; which is surprisingly strenuous, when you're constantly inching yourself underneath floorboards towards impossible locations and such. He also made regular visits to the gym. In his senior year he was given head by Carrie, a chubby but cute girl on his debate team; then lost his virginity to Betty, a girl he met and competed against in the Speech competition. And he'd even gotten to fuck Amber for the last two months of the school year, a cheerleader who unfortunately was spending the summer in Europe. The suddenly horny MILF shook her head at her inappropriate thoughts. Needing to cool herself down both figuratively and literally, she went to the fridge and just stood in front of it with the door wide open for a few moments. She then took an ice cube from the freezer and slid it up and down and around her neck. It felt so nice to cool down just a bit! The melting ice ran down her chest, just as; "Oh my," Joey said, as he stared at the hottest woman he knew doing something that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sex comedy. His cock, which had gradually dropped into slumber while he worked, was now wide awake again, and ready for action in a heartbeat! But he must have made some noise, because... "Oh my, I'm so sorry!" Sarah apologized, hurriedly tossing the ice cube into the sink. "It's just so hot in here!" "But not for much longer; I almost have it fixed," he said brightly, wishing he could have been that ice cube; well; before she'd tossed it aside. "I just need to get something from my truck, and we'll be in business!" "Really? Sounds great!" she said. He left, and she thought to herself, ‘Oh, my God, how embarrassing!’ She reached for her phone to distract herself from her humiliation, and started scrolling through Twitter. He came back in and went back downstairs. As she scrolled through a bunch of ridiculous political posts that made her sigh at what appeared to be half of the country's idiocy, the discovery of an upcoming Hallmark movie that made her smile, and a funny cat video. She learned that today was National Nude Day (not to be confused with Naked Gardening Day, which was the first Saturday in May). She laughed, And given this heat wave, what a perfect day for it! Still sweating like crazy from the heat, she went and poured two glasses of iced tea; threw in four ice cubes each, so they'd stay cold for at least a few minutes, and went down to the basement to offer her unexpected handyman some ice cold refresh

Lost At Christmas: Part 2 A vulnerable confrontation with an old crush. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. Christmas What had started out with the potential for so much disappointment, my first Christmas away from home, was actually quite wonderful. The family embraced me and treated me as one of their own. Dinner was scrumptious, a Christmas ham, with the full complement of side dishes. After dinner we chatted, drank a little too much spiked eggnog, and told stories of the last few years. I sat close to Sheri when I could, beside her at the dinner table, and next to her on the couch while we had our eggnog. I tried to engage her in some quiet conversation of our own, but the setting was all wrong for that, and I eventually abandoned those attempts. It was nice enough just to be near her. Tommy's step-father Dave, insisted I call Santiago, even though I knew the price would be outrageous, and I did. I gave my family my Christmas wishes, and told them how much I missed them and was looking forward to seeing them in a couple of days. Everyone in the room took a minute to say hello and share season's greetings. I had to spend a few minutes trying to get my Mom to stop crying at the far end, before we finally were able to hang-up. The small ones had to go to bed relatively early, and so we all got to open one gift the night before, as was their tradition. I gave Tommy his gift, and his mother opened the family gift and everyone acted pleased. In turn, they had bought me a present which I opened. It was two books for the trip, and they had a card for me. Inside was $50. I was completely in shock. "Dear Steve, Your short visit was a wonderful Christmas gift to us all. Thanks so much for choosing to spend this Christmas with us. Here's some mad money for the trip home. We all love you. Dave, June, Robert, Sheri, John and Jean" I was deeply touched by the gesture. I went over and gave Tommy's Mom a big hug, thanking her for the card and books. The kids jumped up with presents of their own, and I got two new drawings for my dorm room, as well as some mystery invention from John, which was supposed to be a spy tool to stop people from breaking into my room. I thanked them profusely, and they were put to bed shortly after. Dave, Tommy and I discussed the logistics of my morning bus ride back to Charleston. It left at 7:30 am, but was only about 15 minutes away, so we figured on getting a 7:00am start. We relaxed around the fire, ruminating on the poor souls who had the job of driving that bus all day Christmas day. There was a guitar in the corner, Greg's. I was surprised he hadn't taken it with him. I went over and grabbed it, and finding it miserably out of tune, I tuned it up. "Play something Christmassy", Tommy's Mom asked, and so I played a couple of tunes. I'm a fair guitarist; I was studying guitar at the Eastman School of Music since it was convenient, and ROTC was picking up the tab, and had improved quite a bit from the days of our first band. I got rave reviews from my small audience, and took requests for a while, before we broke it up. The parents still had some work to do for the kids, and Tommy and I wanted to hit the hay early, in order to catch that 7:30 bus. More hugs and kisses all around, with a firm handshake for Dave, and I retired to my room to finish my packing. I got ready for bed, dressed in boxers and a t-shirt, laid out my clothes for the morning, and completed my packing. I had one last thing I wanted to do before hitting the sack, so I went back into the bathroom, and knocked on the opposite door into Sheri's room. I heard a muffled "Come in" or something to that effect, and opened the door to find Sheri sitting up in bed, brushing her long blonde hair. She was dressed in a nearly see-through pale green nightie that took my breath away. "Hi." I felt incredibly awkward, like I was 16 all over again. She looked up at me, giving me a quizzically upraised eyebrow. "I had a gift for you, but I felt kind of silly giving it to you out there. I hope you don't mind that I waited until now." I handed her a small leather pouch. She took it, laying her brush to the side, and opened it, pulling out a small cross. She stretched out the cord, and looked at me in surprise. "But this is your mountain cross! You always wear this!" She said, looking at me with a strange look I couldn't quite fathom. The cross was one I had found mountain climbing several years earlier. I had been in a small accident. I'd fallen into a glacier fed stream on a mountain trip, while collecting firewood in a storm. I'd almost frozen before I'd made it back to the cabin. Literally. I thought I was going to die. I was staggering the last 20 feet to the building, in a daze, when a friend returning from the outhouse ran into me, and dragged me inside to warm up. The next morning I found a small ivory cross on a rotted leather lanyard at almost the very place I had climbed out of the stream, and I had worn it for years since then. Sheri knew the story. I had told her the whole thing one evening when I had been giving her driving lessons. I don't know what had motivated me to give it to her, but I had had this urge, and I've always been a pretty impetuous person. "I just want you to have it." I explained. She patted the bed beside her for me to sit down then she handed me the cross to put around her neck and turned her back to me. I passed my hands over the head, letting the cross dangle in the valley between her breasts, and she reached back and pulled her hair up and out of the way, so I could latch the necklace on her. When I was done she turned to me, and fingering the cross she thanked me. "I got the strangest call today." She told me. "Strange how?" I asked. "Kathryn called me. We haven't talked probably in over a year, but she called me out of the blue, and we talked about nothing but you for over an hour." She said with a teasing smile. I could feel my face burning from the blush. We were real quiet for a bit. Then she spoke up softly, not looking at me at all, just looking down at her hands. "Do you remember the skating party where you asked me to skate, like 5 times?" "Do I ever! My hand was so sweaty I was embarrassed to hold yours, but didn't know how to dry it off, and I wasn't good enough a skater to make a real dance out of it." I laughed. "I thought you liked me, and were going to ask me out, but you never did. Why not?" She asked. The memory was embarrassing, and I thought about it a bit before confessing. "I had skated with Kathryn earlier in the evening, and she asked me who I liked. I told her I would answer by the end of the evening. Later, just when I was trying to get the nerve up to skate with you again, and ask you to sit by me on the Pensacola bus trip, Jack found me and told me that I had better ask Kathryn to skate. She was waiting for me to tell her something. Well, I did ask her to skate, and she reminded me of our previous conversation. I admitted that I really liked two people, you and her. Then she asked me if I minded if she 'monopolized' me for a while. I went along. You know the rest. One out-of-town bus trip; one back-row of the movie; and me completely screwing everything up." She listened without showing too much surprise. "But how come you never tried anything after that?" "God! How could I? You knew everything that had happened. Don't you remember the time I stopped by when Net was over here spending the night. Every time I passed you guys, you seemed to be laughing at me. And then when you passed me in the hall and whispered, "Oooh, I Love You," teasing me with what I'd said to Kathryn before completely blowing her off, I was just devastated. I hadn't screwed up just the one chance, but you as well." Sheri had the grace to blush from embarrassment at that. "I really didn't know much of what was going on. Kathryn just told me to go up to you and say that. I'm sorry." "Not half as sorry as I was." I told her. "You had to know how much I liked you. I was always trying to be around you and do things with you." "I didn't know how much of that was just being Tommy's sister, or what. I kept waiting for you to try something, anything, but you never did." She looked at me intensely almost with anguish. I was 16 all over again. I was still embarrassed over my ineptness around women. I had screwed things up with Kathryn. I had screwed up with Teri. And I had screwed up with Sheri. Since then I'd had more than my share of success with the young women I'd known, but all of a sudden, it was like I was a clumsy, scared virgin all over again. Sheri looked at me for a long while, then finally sighed and looked away, picking up her brush and going back to brushing her hair. "Some things will never change, I guess," she muttered, ignoring me. I started to get up, to go to my room, knowing this was neither the time, nor the place to try to start something with Sheri, but I just couldn't leave things as they were. I reached out and took the brush from her, which she relinquished slowly. I then took her by the shoulders and turned her away from me, so I could brush her hair. I brushed her hair in silence for a bit, before speaking. "For at least a year after leaving here, I would dream about you all the time. You were the girl of my fantasies. We wrote so well for a while, and I kept all your letters, reading them over and over again, looking for hidden meaning in the words, wondering if I'd ever get a chance to be with you. I still have those letters." I confessed. Several long seconds later Sheri reached down to the bottom drawer of her chest, next to the bed and opened it. She reached under her sweaters, and pulled out a pile of letters held together with a rubber-band. I recognized my writing. She turned to look at me, and her eyes glistened. I dropped the brush, leaned over and nervously kissed her, hoping beyon

Lost At Christmas: Part 1 His First Christmas away from home, & His best gift ever. Based on a post by Tx Tall Tales, in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First time. After my first semester in College, I was eager to go home for the holidays. I was going to school in Rochester, New York, and anybody who'd experienced the lake-effect winters on the Great Lakes would understand my desire to get to somewhere warmer. For me, that somewhere warmer was a long ways away. As a military brat, home was often a moving target, and that winter it was Santiago, Chile, where my father was stationed and where I'd graduated high-school. It was summer in Santiago, and I was looking forward to a pool-party with my old school mates for the Holidays. We didn't have a lot of money, but I was allowed to travel space available on a military flight as a Navy ROTC student. I had to get down to Charleston, South Carolina, and catch an international C1 41 flight that made a loop through Latin America. After finagling a ride to Virginia followed by a very long bus trip down the coast, I finally made it to Charleston AFB. ROTC travel orders in hand, I checked in at the desk, and verified I was on the standby list for the flight leaving on the 23rd. I wouldn't get home until Christmas Day, but better late than never. With pockets nearly empty, a hotel room was out of the question so I slept in the terminal and snacked on the cheapest eats I could get away with. There was a festive mood in the terminal, so many people rushing to get home for the holidays, and I was getting caught up in the feeling, eagerly looking forward to that very long plane ride, first to Panama, then Lima, and finally Santiago. After what seemed an interminable wait, we were an hour away from boarding when I got bumped off the flight by a group of Marines headed to Panama on Active Duty travel orders. I was devastated. The next flight left early the morning of the 26th. At least that one was a huge plane, and nearly empty so I was virtually guaranteed to get aboard, but what was I going to do for Christmas? Looking up at the outgoing flight schedules, I saw a flight listed for Tyndall AFB, Panama City, Florida. "When is the flight to Tyndall headed out?" I asked the airman behind the desk. "In an hour-and-a-half, and it's all but empty. You want on?" He asked, offering some recompense for my last minute bump. I'd lived in Panama City during 9th and 10th grade, and still had some close friends there, many I still kept in touch with. Maybe I could find someone to spend Christmas with there. It had to be better than sleeping in the terminal for 2 more days. "Please," I told him, "but hold my space for Santiago. I'll be back for that flight." I recalled there being a pretty big Greyhound station in Panama City, so I called Greyhound and checked on a bus being able to get me back in time for the flight. They had one, a 7:30 am bus on Christmas morning would get me back before midnight on Christmas. I could easily make the flight the next morning, even if it were delay a few hours. I bought a ticket, using the emergency Am Ex card my parents had given me when I headed off to college. I'd explain the $67.00 to my parents. I called my family in Santiago with the news. It had to be short call because of the expense, so I let them know I had been bumped but would be there on the 28th. I told them I was headed to Panama City, and would be taking a bus back in plenty of time for my flight. My mother cried, and my father told me to go ahead and use the credit card, but to try to keep the expenses reasonable. By the time I hung up I was pretty depressed, but at least I had a plan. Before I could try to contact anyone in Panama City, an announcement was made and suddenly I was on my way to Florida for Christmas, with no place lined up to stay, and practically broke. I was feeling a bit melancholy, but was determined to make the best of it. So there I was, at Tyndall Air Force Base, at 11:20 pm on December 23rd. I was debating who to try first. I had several close friends nearby and I expected they'd all be home for Christmas. After a short internal debate, I had narrowed it down to two. I had always gotten along well with their entire families, and I was still in pretty regular contact with both of them. Mike lived the nearest to me in the old days. He came from a big family, with 6 siblings, including Peggy, who'd been one of my first real deep infatuations. When I had been in 9th grade she'd been a senior, and was pretty and sophisticated. My yearning for her was unrequited, but I relished the idea of seeing her again after four years. She was a college senior, and would probably be home. I knew they'd welcome me, but I was concerned it would be an inconvenience. They did not have a large house, and it was bound to be crowded, particularly with three college kids home for the holiday. On top of that who knew if they had anyone else in tow? Tommy on the other hand came from a relatively well-off family who always lived well within their means. He had an older brother, who was working in Japan and unlikely to be home, a sister, Sheri, just a year behind us in school, and two much younger siblings, who I guessed would be around 9 and 10 by now. They had a spacious house, each kid had their own room, and I wouldn't be putting anybody out if I stayed there. I'd always had a crush on Sheri, but although I'd dated her best friend, I'd never gone out with her. Getting a chance to see her again would be an extra bonus. Feeling nervous and awkward, I dialed Tommy's number from memory, and luckily got him on the first call. If I'd gotten somebody else, I would have really felt uncomfortable. Tommy's answer was unmistakable. He had a funny way of saying hello when he answered the phone, and the sound of his voice took me straight back down memory lane. "Hee-ello," he answered. "Tommy! Guess who?" I asked. I guess my voice must have been similarly recognizable, since he didn't hesitate a second. "Steve-o! What are you up to? Where're you at?" He answered eagerly. It put a smile on my face. Nice to hear a happy, upbeat voice that seemed genuinely pleased to hear from me. "Funny you should ask. It's a long story, but I'm in a bit of a bind. I'm at Tyndall, and stuck here until Christmas Day." I told him. "What happened to Chile, and Rochester?" He asked. "I was on my way home to Chile, when I lost my seat on the plane in Charleston. I couldn't get out again until the 26th, so when I saw an empty plane headed this way, I just hopped on and hoped for the best." I explained. "That's Great!" He almost shouted. "Not great that you couldn't get home, but great that you're here. You want to stay with us? You can have Greg's room, he won't be here, and I'm sure Sheri and Mom would love to see you. The place is kind of 'down' with Greg canceling his trip home at the last minute. Having you here should cheer things up a bit." He did sound enthused, and I couldn't help grinning in reply. "Don't you think you should check?" I laughed. A scream in my ear was the answer, as I heard half of a shouted conversation. "Mom! Guess Who's In Town." "No, Not Greg." "No, Go Ahead Guess." "Guess Again." "Ok, Ok - Steve." "Yeah, Steve Pelland. He's Stuck Here In Town 'Til Christmas Day." "Of Course I Told Him He Should Come Here, I'll Go Get Him." "I Will." "Yes Mom; Yes; I Won't; I Will." I was holding the phone a little away from my head, and almost missed it when he came back on. "Where should I pick you up?" He asked. "The Main Terminal, you know where that is right?" I answered. "Sure - be there in about 30 minutes. Man, this is Great!" I hung up with a big smile on my face, feeling 100% better than I had just 10 minutes earlier. I stood outside waiting for him, and about 20 minutes later the strings of Christmas lights shut off one at a time, as the place closed up for the night. It was dark and quiet, and I started to get nervous again, wondering if this had been such a good idea. I was 500 miles from my flight home and completely at the mercy of old friends. But as far as friends go, I couldn't do much better than mine, and figured at the least I wouldn't be sleeping in a lonely terminal in Charleston for two days, slowly eating my way through my meager funds. When Bob pulled up around midnight, I could see he'd gotten rid of the VW Bug he'd inherited from his mother upon turning 16, and was now driving his brother's old Two-tone Cougar. We spent a minute saying hi, and loading my gear into the trunk, and then we headed back into town, catching each other up on history. When I had first moved to Santiago, I used to write about once every couple of months, as well as call a couple of times a year. In the beginning I'd written Sheri a lot as well. She was one of the most prolific writers among my old friends, and would typically write twice to me for every one I wrote to her. Over the years, that had degenerated into holiday cards and a surprise call maybe once a year. I knew he was attending Florida State, and that Greg had graduated from Georgetown, and had moved to Japan on business. That was about it. Tommy told me all about the old gang, who was in town, who was going to what schools, what people had been up to. I told him a lot more detail about what I'd been up to. "So," he asked, "Got a girl?" "Not now. Thought I had one after the ROTC Christmas ball, but that seems to have been my mistake." I admitted. "Hard to believe. You always had someone. Every letter, every phone-call, just seems like they didn't stay the same all that long." He teased. "I don't know. I had several relationships last pretty long. Two were more than 6 months long." I argued. "Oh! Six Months!" He laughed. "How about you then," I asked in defense. "Still Erin. Almost two years now." He asked. "Shit. What does she see in you? She could do so much better." I teased. "Oh r

12 Bawdy Christmas Poems Tonight we’re presenting some of our most beloved, humorous, and explicit poems about Christmas night intimacy. All are spoofs of the most classic Christmas poem of all time. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. The Black Knight Before Christmas. by  The Mad Splatter, recited by Sonia. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;My panties were hung on the bedpost with care,As my fingers parted my soft pussy hair. My pussy I fingered while all snug in my bed,As visions of huge cock danced in my head;My tit in one hand, and squeezing my nip,I moaned and I groaned, while my muff I did grip. When out on the lawn I heard a faint sound,I popped out my fingers from my wet and hot mound;And naked away, to the window I dashed,Tore open the drapes as the yard I did flash. The moon on my breasts was a sight to behold,Showed my smooth white skin and red nipples so bold.When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,But William, our black neighbor, who I’ve wanted all year, With an ass like a rock and muscles so thick,I knew in a moment I’d found my hard dick.While rubbing my pussy I suddenly came,As he whistled and shouted, and called me by name; “Now, Susan, you minx, you hot little vixen!It’s time that you knew what you’ve always been missin’!From the tip of my rod to the sack of my ballsI’ll make you forget your drunk husband, Paul!” His words, they made my fantasies fly;And I slid both my hands between my wet thighs;And started to spread and rub my bare lipsNow slick from the promise of a huge, black dick. And then, in a twinkling, I heard a loud knock,And knew at the front door awaited my cock.I threw on my robe and sped down the stairs,Hot for the stud who awaited me there. When I opened the door, he wasted not a moment;Entered the room and tore off my garment;And dropped to his knees, put his face in my snatch;My pussy lips burned, as hot as a match. The nub of my clit he held tight in his teeth,His fingers he rubbed on my slit just beneath;I squeezed my huge tits, nipples dark as a cherry,And his tongue was now stabbing my pussy so furry. Hearing my breathing had become quite quickHe knew it was time to show me his prick.He pulled down his pants and exposed his firm belly,And his long, thick tool to which I said, “Oh, Billy!” It was chubby and plump, and hard in my hand;When it slid in my mouth, he barely could stand;So a chair I soon found and gave him a seat;I straddled his cock and ground on his meat. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And filled up my pussy, then came with a jerk,And sliding his finger inside of my ass,I came on his lap and slumped with a gasp. I slid off his cock, and fell to the floor,And licked the last drops of cum like a whore.And he finally exclaimed, with my mouth on his rod,“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good, oh, oh my God!!!” And To All A Good Lay. by  foehn. Recited by Connor. ’Twas the night before Christmas, and down in my drawers, my creature was telling you, “Get on all fours!” You’d already laid down your stockings with care,and come to molest me in my easy chair. The kids were all upstairs and sleeping at last, and now it was “us” time; not slow, but not fast, You unbuttoned my britches and pulled my pants down, and up sprang my elf with his little pink crown. He trembled and twitched with desire that was spastic, desiring our session of love to be drastic. Tenderly, gently caressing my shaft, you leaned close to kiss it, just driving me daft! By flickering firelight, its head disappeared, when all of a sudden, the thing that I feared, The most about Christmas Eve night came to pass, as Santa Claus plopped on our fire, on his ass. Our fire was extinguished and smoke filled the air, as Santa jumped up with, a burning derriere. I took in the view with a wilting erection, and wondered “What’s wrong with our burglar detection?” Santa was hopping and howling in hurt; I pulled up your favorite plant from its dirt,And taking the pot, knocking over my rum, I ran up to rub, the wet soil on his bum. The fire was put out, and the poor old elf sighed, to think that this Christmas, he well could have died; And when he spied you, collapsed naked and weeping, I couldn’t help think, that he shouldn’t be peeping. When I recognized the odd look on his face, I reminded him, he had invaded our space.“And now come to think of it, where are the toys? “Surely you’ve brought some, for our little boys.” I walked to the closet and chose a warm blanket, to cover your butt with. (she wanted to spank it.) He walked to the chimney, and reaching within, unsnagged his bag, which fell down with a din. “Quiet” I said: “Must you make such a clatter?” He smiled just to say, “ that Nothing’s the matter,” and then just to prove to me nothing was wrong, he tossed you a shiny new silicone dong. He stashed the boys’ presents, all under the tree, and turning he gave me, a new DVD; there were pictures of hot sexy, things on the case, and one of them seemed to be wearing your face! He gave a big wink, walked right out the door. I locked it behind him and glanced at the floor. where you looked so peaceful, all comfy and bare. beneath the big blanket, now covering you there. I stripped off my clothes, laid down at your side; you were already giving, your new dong a ride! And what had gone limp from our rude interruption, now perked up quite nicely, and stood at attention. I reached for your free hand and guided it where;it could find my “north pole,” sticking out in the air.and I heard Santa shout, as he left on his sleigh, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good lay!” Her Night Before Christmas. by Ug. Recited by Natasha. Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house. No creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were worn by the woman with care, She’d too much to drink, passed out on the chair. The woman who should have been snug in her bed, the whiskey and vodka, gone straight to her head. And she lay there snoring, empty glass on the floor, so drunk came she in, she’d forgotten the door. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Another drunk wandering, home in a stagger. To her door he did wander, and gave it a push, Then fell he inside when his foot caught a bush. He spied a light on, in a room and did wander. looked inside the door, and hence he did ponder. Now who was this woman, sitting there in his chair. This woman with such sexy flowing blonde hair. He reached down to give, her shoulder a shake, but the young buxom woman, just wouldn’t awake. He tried a bit harder, and gave her a jostle. which didn’t awake her, but made her breasts tossle. The drunk seeing breasts, seductively quiver. decided to cup one, still she did not shiver. Now with his right hand, he slipped down her dress. and finding her nipple, an interesting quest. He moved his left hand, and placed on her thigh. and feeling the silks, he pushed his hand high. Over the stocking tops, onto warm skin, to her panties and under, his fingers sank in. He gripped at her panties, and pulled them aside. and with his free hand, then parted her thighs. And moving between, her legs he did shove. Unzipping his pants, to fuck his new love. He then pulled her ass, to the edge of the chair, His dick found it’s way, through her pubic hair. and into her pussy, his dick did so slam. then pulled back slightly, to repeatedly ram. He pounded her pussy, and groaned as he shoved. Her pussy felt great, like a hot little glove. She still was asleep, unaware of the world, so he carried on fucking, his sweet Christmas girl. He pushed her legs back, up over her head, And deep in her womb, his pulsing dick fed. He started to grunt, whilst having his fun. Then into her belly, shot all of his cum. He held himself still, til catching his breath, and pulled out his dick, his balls had none left. He wiped off his cock, on the hem of her dress, and zipped himself up, though she was a mess. He spoke not a word, but went straight to the door, before looking round, til he finally swore. “Oh fuck” he soon hissed, “this isn’t my home!”, then crept from the house, and left her alone. He swayed down a path, his legs wobbling so, soon slipped on some ice, and landed in snow. But I heard him exclaim, passing out like a light, “Happy Christmas to all, and a fucking good-night!” T’was The Night Before Christmas. by LostNlove. Recited by Emily. It was the night before Christmas;And all through my house.The Candles were glowing;And I was quite soused. The fire was warm;And so was the brandy.As I wrapped up the gifts;I was feeling quite randy. I sat in my nightie;Short silky and white.Hoping when Santa showed;He’d enjoy such a sight. Then top of the stairs;I heard a deep groan.It sounded familiar;I let out a moan. I turned round to see;And what do you know.There stood my Santa;His shaft in a bow. I saw that red ribbon;Round that cock so hard.And jumped off the couch;Without self regard. When he saw I was tipsy;He laughed and came down.I untied that bow;And wrapped my lips ‘round. Oh, what a present!I’m one happy wench.I sucked it then faster;my nipples he pinched. I rose to my feet;L and licking my lips.Then, held mistletoe;while he gave me a kiss. We moved to the couchWhere he laid me back.And thrust in his cock;All the way to his sack. When my hips rocked he said;Oh You like that I see.”I said,“Yes all though better;On the floor on my knees.” “No problem my dear;Anything that you wish.But first come here;Give me one more kiss.” I kissed his lips softly;Then I got on the floor.He teased so I begged;“Santa please give me more.” He lifted my nightie;Up over my ass.As he gave it a slap;I let out a loud gasp. “I’ve watched you this year;You’re so naughty but nice.”He shoved it in deep saying,“Now, let’s do this twice!” I slammed back against him,As he slammed into me.I didn’t yet notice;Rug burns on my knees. I moaned and I came;my juices did flo

Twas a Perv Christmas. Christmas eve with your favorite, kinky, perverted family. (2 poems) Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Twas the night before Christmas,and all through the dwelling. Not a creature was stirring,'cept my cock, which was swelling; From walls hung portraits,setting the mood, Above the mantel hung Grandma,She posed fullly nude; Down the hall, on her bed,Coed stepsister did sit, A vibrating dildo,rubbed on her hard clit; Stepmom in panties,and I in the nude. Had just readied our loins,before getting screwed. When from outside the window,there arose such a cry, My head darted up,from stepmom’s wet thigh; Jen's eyes got so wide,as we both turned to see, Just what sort of Christmas,the visit might be; The moonbeams bounced off,the snow all so white, I blinked as I tried to,make sure of my sight, What did I see,that gave me such pause? It was the round, jolly face,of old Santa Clause! Framed in the window, red cheeks and a beard, When in through the doorway,Buxy Susan appeared; I opened the window,we pulled him within, Jenny glanced at her daughter,then said with a grin: “Santa! We're busy,You're spying, You creep! I’m riding my stepson,and you try to peep! That’s awfully spotty,for man such as you! I wonder what naughty,kinky perversions you do! Now please come on in,and join the fun, We’ll be on the nice list,when finally done!” Quick as the devil,Jen's down on her knees, Tugging his Pants off,as fast as she please, The Sled Musher looked down,his eyes wide with shock, When out of his britches,popped his massive cock, She started to suck him,with skills of a pro, And Santa exclaimed,“Sue, Your Mom's a Ho!” My stepsister laughed,as she fell to Jen’s side, She opened her mouth,took both ball's inside, Her tongue lapped and writhed,his scrotum with care, As Jen bobbed on his shaft,and came up for air, She said, “I’ve taught her well,don’t you think St. Nick? Watching her lick you,gets my pussy all slick.” They sprung to their feet,and got back in bed, “Why don’t you fuck her,while Billy gives me head?” Susan then beamed,and she squealed with delight, then spread her legs and cried,“hurry down my chimney tonight!” And taking my cue,I crawled to Jen’s bits, my tongue, ran up through it,from the crack to the slit, Santa rushed forward,his hard swollen tip, And rubbed it on Susan's,soft, shaven lips; As he pushed it inside,Susan’s ass gave a leap, He was all the way in her,rigid hard and balls deep; Watching her daughter,Jen gave a moan, My tongue pushed down firmly,her clit hard as a bone; Susan writhed on the mattress,her feet in the air, While Santa Clause thrusted,Jen gripped on my hair; At once her back arched,and her toes they did curl, My sister shouted, “Don't stop! I'm Cumming!”while I sucked Jenny's Pearl; Jen pushed my face up,my chin wet with juice, And she said, “My turn! Santa,put my twat to good use!” Her lips stuck out,from under her ass, Santa slid out of Susan,said, “Awe! There’s a good lass!” He went behind Jenny,and in her he plowed, His log hit her g-spot,she cried out aloud; Still horny myself,”Stepsis, want some more?” Got on her knees and said,“Billy, make me a whore!” Sue knelt before Jenny,I poked in her cunt, Jen groaned as I panted,and I heard Santa grunt; He pulled on Jen's hair,Mom’s face all a glow, I pounded up, Susan’s,tits bounced too and fro; She cooed as I fucked her,I smiled at her mother, “Sue, you get along well,with your stepBrother.” We're all moving faster,the bed rocked and squeaked, There's magic in the air,as we all reached our peak; Then Jen started first,a long, bellow scream, Susan came next,as I filled her with cream; With eyes all a twinkle,Saint Nick shot his load, It was a Miracle,Mom didn’t explode! I pulled out of Sue,Nick pulled out of Jen, They fell to the sheets,cunts full to the brim; They both were in giggles,together they squirmed, then straddling each other,they sucked out the sperm; Sue looked up at Nick,her eyes had a glint, Licking her lips, said,“Yum! tastes like mint.” Nick stumbled backwards,and pulled up his drawers, His face was beat red,sweat flowed from his pours; He got to the Window,about to slip out, But paused and he turned,and said with a shout: “You people are lovely,That much I will say! But tonight you're naughty,since Harold's away!” Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle, for Lush Stories. How The Inch Stole Xmas. From The Fucks down in Fucksville. Based on a post by Sancho Hardbottle. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Every Fuck down in Fucksville liked Xmas a lot; But the Inch, who lived just north of Fucksville, did not! The Inch hated Xmas! The whole Xmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be that his testicles were hung up far too high. It could be, perhaps, that his bladder was shy. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his cock was two sizes too small. But who cares why? The guy was a schmuck, He stood there on Xmas Eve, hating the Fucks, Staring down from his lair with swollen, blue balls, At the radiantly lit windows below in their halls. For he knew that every Fuck down where he gazed, Was busy now, having their pubic hair shaved. "And they're trying on their nighties!" he snarled with a sneer, "Tomorrow is Xmas! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Inch fingers nervously drumming, "I must find some way to stop all those Fuckers from cumming!" For tomorrow, he knew, all the lusty studs and sluts, Would wake nice and horny. They'd all start to rut! And then! Oh, the moans! Oh, the moans! Moans! Moans! Moans! That's one thing he hated! The moans! Moans! Moans! Moans! Then the Fucks, barely legal and mature, would hump. And they'd hump! And they'd hump! And they'd hump! Hump! Hump! Hump! They would hump in their pussies, and tight little rumps. Which was something that put the Inch down in the dumps! And then the thing that he hated most would begin! Every Fuck down in Fucksville, the fat and the thin, Would lay close together, with their vibrators humming. They'd lay side-by-side. And the Fucks would start cumming! They'd cum! And they'd cum! And they'd cum! Cum! Cum! Cum! And the more the Inch thought of this Fuckville wide climax, The more he thought, "I must stop this whole thing in its tracks!" "Why, for sixty-nine years I've put up with it now!" "I must stop this Xmas from coming! But how?" Then he got an idea! A nasty idea! The Inch got a wonderful, nasty idea! "I know just what to do!" The Inch laughed in his throat. And he made a quick wide brimmed hat and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "I am such a devilish Imp!" "With this coat and this hat, I look just like a Pimp!" "All I need is a hooker." The Inch looked around. But, since the Inch had no Hos, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old bastard? No! The Inch simply said, "If I can't find a woman, I'll make one instead!" So he gathered some straw, and he formed it into shape, And he planted a red wig on its head with some tape. Then he grabbed the straw woman and a few old rucksacks, And then jumped behind the wheel of his rusty old Cadillac. Then the Inch said, "Let’s go!" And the jalopy started down, Toward the homes where the Fucks lay asnooze in their town. All their windows were dark. Soft groans filled the air. The Fucks were all dreaming wet dreams without care. When he came to the first flophouse on the square. "This place will work for a start," the old Inchy Pimp hissed, And he jumped into the window, empty bags in his fist. Then he crept into the living room, on the tips of his toes, past the discarded condoms and piles of clothes. And into the parlor, the Inch gleefully strolled. In the middle of the room was a polished stripper pole. Laid out beneath it were wondrous sex toys galore. "They won’t need these!" he chuckled, as he started his chore. Then he slithered and slunk, with his heart starting to sing, Around the whole room, and he stole every plaything! Dildos! And Sybians! Anal beads! Balls! French Ticklers! Massagers! Butt plugs! And dolls! And he stuffed them in sacks. Then the Inch, the old baddie, Threw the sacks, into the trunk of his Caddy! Then he snuck to the bathroom. He took every pill! He took the ribbed condoms! All the sensual thrills! He cleaned out the bathroom of the last drop of lube. Why, that Inch left nothing but one single pube! Then he threw all the junk into the car with scorn. "And now!" growled the Inch, "I will take all the porn!" And the Inch grabbed films, dirty books and magazines, When a small voice almost made him jump out of his jeans. He turned around fast, and he saw a young Fuck! Petite Cindy-Blew You, who was naked as buck. The Inch had been caught by this 22 year-old miss, Who'd got out of bed to use the commode for a piss. She gazed at the Inch and said, "Mister Pimp, why,” "Why are you taking our Pornography? Why?" But, you know, that old Inch was such a clever old prick, He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick! "Why, my dear sweet vixen," the bogus Pimp dissembled, "This smut is terrible!” he said, with nary a tremble. "So I'm switching it out, for something much less of a bore." "I'll be back in a flash. With something much more hardcore!" And his fib fooled the minx. Then he patted her bottom, And he went to the loo, never knowing she caught him. And when Cindy-Blew You curled up under her sheet, He grabbed the last bag and chucked it in the street! Then the last thing he stole was their pole for stripping! Then he jumped out the window, practically skipping. He left nothing, no cuffs, no rope. no whips for whipping. And the one drop of lube he left was a crock, It wasn’t enough for even his tiny cock! He did the same thing to every house on every block, Leaving drops much

Hospitality For Santa A gullible girl finds a Christmas Night Visitor. Based on a post by tomthumper. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It was the night before Christmas when Betty Boots was awakened from her wet dream of big dripping candy canes; by a thump, and then a clunk from her apartment's living room. Her big blue eyes popped open as she listened to a rustling, then a man's voice; cursing? Excited, Betty slipped out of bed and crept towards the living room, the cool night air raising goose bumps all over her voluptuous body. The red frilly negligee she wore was frightfully thin, but Betty didn't mind the cold. She was convinced she was going to catch Santa Claus! Eight years ago, when she was just eighteen, she had hidden behind the couch as Santa put presents under the Christmas tree at her parent’s home. She’d just returned from college, after semester finals. But even when she was an elementary lass, friends had tried to convince her that Santa wasn't real. But Betty was a special girl. She really, really loved Santa. Eight years ago, as Santa slipped the last present under the tree that night, her mother had come out of the bedroom wearing only a pair of white stockings, stiletto heels, and hair ribbon; and gave Santa a very friendly hug. In return, Santa gave Betty's mum a very sexy workout that night. Betty got the gift of a very sexy education. Unfortunately, the next day when young Betty's salesman Dad called from the airport, about to board his rescheduled flight home; Betty had told him all about Santa's exciting visit. Dad had gotten very upset and yelled at Betty’s mum. He hung up and they never saw him again. Betty's mum was angry, and threw Betty out of the house for good. From then on Betty had to go back to college, but since the dorms were vacated til past new years, she had to turn to some fraternities, who were always happy to help the plucky, busty, blonde beauty. They were eager to trade boarding for services. But it’s 8 years later. Sneaking towards her apartment living room, Betty was very excited. It was Christmas and Santa had come to visit her! She wasn't angry about Santa causing her parents to split or her abandonment. She had never connected the events. No, Betty was as happy and excited as a particularly naïve schoolgirl. Santa was in her living room! She tried not to skip with glee, as she slipped into the unlit room. Santa was bent over the entertainment center. Perhaps, Betty thought, he was leaving a holiday music CD in her stereo. She hoped it was someone sexy and sophisticated like Britney Spears or Katy Perry. Betty flushed. Santa had sure slimmed down since the last time. He had the firmest butt that showed off very well indeed, in his tight blue jeans. He must have started going to the gym because his muscles bulged beneath his black sweater. He still wore a red Santa hat, which made sense since he was Santa. "Oh; Santa," she said, half out of happiness to find him bringing her presents, and half because; Wow! He was really built. Santa was startled and turned around. Betty was confused. Instead of being old with a white beard, he was young, with chiseled features, short spiky black hair and green vigorous eyes. But then again, Betty thought, Santa was a magical man. Perhaps this was how he appeared to lonely young women who were positively bursting out of their lacy intimates, like her mom had done, some 8 years earlier? "I'm sorry Santa," said Betty in a bashful voice, after flicking on a lamp. Santa was looking very nervous. He had dropped his bag of presents with a clank; and if she didn't know better, she would have said he was about to make a break for it. "I'm sorry Santa," she repeated, edging over to him. "I know I should be tucked in bed like a good girl. But I got so very excited when I heard you delivering my presents." Santa's mouth dropped open, and it took him a moment to say anything. "Santa?" he finally managed to say, in a marvelously deep voice. "You can't fool me, Santa," Betty said proudly, sticking out her magnificent chest. "I'm smart. You’re disguising yourself! You may not look like Saint Nick, but who else would be bringing me presents tonight? The Easter Bunny?" "I; I guess you caught me," Santa said, googling at Betty's buxom tits. The fabric of her red negligee was light and sheer, almost transparent. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra and her sizable jugs jostled together amiably. Santa could even catch the hint of her tit's dark areolas. "Well," he gulped. "I should go." He reached to pick up his sack. "Lots of boys and girls to visit." "Oh no, Santa!" Betty exclaimed, clutching him to her bosom. "Please don't go yet! Have some milk and cookies. Mama taught me to be extra hospitable, and be good to you." Santa got a strange look on his face as the buxom blonde rubbed up and down him in her small frilly teddy. Without her noticing, he flipped up the back of her nightie. He broke into a grin. This girl had gone to bed without any panties! "Okay," he said. "I'll stay a bit." He settled down in a brown comfy chair and let Betty serve him his milk and cookies. "Any beer?" Betty got Santa a tall cool one, which he guzzled, in one swig. "Ah!" He plopped the bottle down and looked up at Betty, who was hovering over his extended leg. Facing away, she was removing his boots for a foot massage, and accidentally giving him a preview of her equally blonde nether locks as well. He stretched and then grabbed her round the waist and set her on his lap. Then he asked with a grin. "So what do you want for Christmas, little girl?" "I thought you'd never ask, Santa!" exclaimed Betty. She giggled as she slid further up on his lap, making him go Ooof! and slip his hand up the back of her nightie; all the way up to her shoulder blades. Betty was so excited, she paid no attention to Santa's paw. "But you have to ask me the other question first, Santa," demanded Betty, bouncing on Santa's lap. "Holy" Santa caught himself just in time as Betty gave his lap the bouncing of its life. "What question honey?" "The naughty or nice question!" Betty said impatiently. "What's wrong with you, Santa?" Santa was breathing the sweet scent of Betty's hair; so had to shake his head to answer the question. "Oh, yes! Naughty or nice. Sorry, my girlfriend; I mean, Mrs. Claus left me for one of the elves." He eased his hand lower until it rested on her full round ass. Man, this chick was all curves! "That's awful, Santa!" said Betty, opening wide her full round lips around the 'aw' in awful. "Yes. I walked in on them," said Santa. "Have you ever seen an elf with a twelve inch dick?" "Not on an elf." Betty shuddered. "But twelve inches is a lot for any gal to take, let me tell you." She blushed, realizing that Santa was studying her closely. "Hmm, So you know exactly how she felt," he said, giving her bottom a squeeze. Betty giggled and wiggled. "So Santa has been all alone since June, and what with my work; I don't get to meet cute little scamps like you, except for around Christmas." "Poor Santa!" cried Betty. "So there's been no one to; relieve all the pressure?" Betty grinned as her hand involuntarily slid over the hump between his legs.. Santa might not be twelve inches, but she was pretty sure he was pushing eight or nine, judging from what a bumpy lap she was sitting on. "Yes, it's just been me and the reindeer," said Santa. "Oh, Santa," Betty said in a shocked voice. "You haven't been using Cupid or Comet that way, have you?" "What way is that?" asked Santa, running his finger down between her soft ass cheeks. "You know." Betty squirmed. "Like when a woman bends over and a man takes his; candy cane and slides it into her stocking." "Oh, reindeer-style," Santa drawled. "No, I've never gotten that desperate." He locked Betty in his gaze. "What about you? Have you been a good girl this year? I hope you haven't been getting your stocking stuffed, too much. Though you're very, very stuff-able." "Well..." Betty looked very guilty. "I've been, pretty good?" "Betty," Santa said sternly. "Remember who you are talking to." Betty tugged at the neck of Santa's sweater. "Well, I honestly didn't know about my mistletoe print dress, until Mr. Stevenson and Mr. Johnson took me into the coat room, and explained," she said in a defensive tone. "It was lucky Mr. Johnson told me to take it off, cause while they were performing the traditional punishment, Mr. Stevenson splattered all over me with his big dick! Santa's eyes widened as he imagined the banging of Betty Boots in the coat closet. His pants were getting tighter and tighter, nuzzling Betty's sexy bottom. "I got pretty tipsy as well," admitted Betty. "But I did a good deed! I gave Tim, the office boy, a hand job cause of his cock cancer." "Cock cancer?" "Yes," said Betty, biting her lip trying to remember. "He was afraid he might have cock cancer, and the only way to know was to; you know, try to cum. But he didn't want to find out all alone. So I;" Betty grinned sheepishly. "I gave him a hand job." "And?" asked Santa, shifting with exquisite discomfort. "Oh, he came really, really well!" Betty giggled. "I decided to really make sure he was A okay, so I sucked on him till he came again." Betty licked her full lips. "He tasted very healthy!" She glanced at Santa nervously. "I like tasting cocks. Is that naughty?" "Ho Ho! No!" Santa bounced Betty on his knee, watching her tits jiggle as her ass pounded his bulge. "Except Santa isn't sure if you're not just a little naughty," he said. "The last time I looked at you closely, was when you were still in high school." He wiggled the end of her button nose. "You were in the shower getting all soapy. My how you've sprouted since then!" "In the shower?" Betty squeaked. "Oh gosh, I wasn't using the shower head was I? You know, the naughty way." When Santa nodded, Betty turned bright red. "But, but I have to, cause if I don'

Elf on a Shelf: Part 3 It's hard to punish a girl as good as Honey, but he'll try. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. In the second week of February, Honey Lane sat on a tall stool in the corner next to Zach's kitchen counter, sulking as she watched him walk slowly around the table at which sat a girl and two boys between the ages of 7 and 10. The dour silence of the spacious industrial loft suggested more that the children were completing a college entrance exam with a severe proctor, rather than completing Valentines to be distributed in class the following Monday. Honey crossed her long legs and sighed again, earning a piercing glare from Zach. She had been looking forward to helping Zach's niece and nephews with their Valentines for a couple weeks, Until she received a call from the Health Department, advising her to take precautions due to a Covid outbreak in her dumpy apartment complex. and now she was only allowed to observe the kids from five feet away. She crossed her arms and sighed again. This was the worst punishment ever. Zach continued circling the table, trying not to notice how Honey's folded arms pushed her tits together, the neckline of her fuzzy sweater dipping between them. Beneath the soft woven folds, the silken white skin of her tits probably still bore the red marks of his passion, his teeth and lips remembering the feel of her shuddering with pleasure under them only moments before his sister dropped her kids off for the afternoon. Jesus Christ; she just uncrossed and crossed her legs again, totally oblivious to the way she flashed him an upskirt every goddamn time she did it. Unless she wasn't oblivious to it; with Honey, it was hard to tell. Zach could tell that Honey was just dying to hop down from the stool, scamper over and huddle with Amarie, Fallon and Logan, as they wrote their names on the stupid little perforated papers and stuck a pencil through the pre-punched holes for a stupid commercial holiday that was supposed to celebrate love. Honey would ask them questions about their classmates, help them choose the right stupid Valentine message for the right classmate, put stickers and shit on the cards, and generally sprinkle that fairy dust that she seemed to bring to anything she did. She was a born nurturer and would make this whole thing magical for the kids, but it couldn't be helped. Honey had scared the shit out of him and she needed to learn a lesson. It would be hard, but he just had to be strong. She would not be getting out of this. Not this time. "Done!" Fallon yelled, slamming his pencil down on the table. Logan looked up from where he was working on his third personalized Valentine message, apparently trying to sign each of them in rudimentary calligraphy, and frowned, "You just put 'F' on all of them," he said in disgust, "It looks like you're giving them a bad grade; he said, shaking his head and returning to his careful scrivening. "I am. Everyone in my class is a jerk. What are these things supposed to mean, anyway? All these cards sound stupid. Like you'd really walk up to someone you like and say 'Let's swing!' I haven't asked a girl to swing in years. I'm too old for swinging," Fallon griped, looking at his Spiderman sticker cards. A snort of suppressed laughter came out of the corner of the room, followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor in a fit of coughing. "Fourth Fucking Place! On Your Face, Maggot!" Zach roared. In the corner, hidden among the gym equipment, Zach's friend and loyal wingman Terry promptly scrambled up into pushup position again without a word. "Thirty-two," the children said in unison, prompting Zach to put another dollar into a large money-stuffed jar labeled "Language Arts Scholarship" in the middle of the table. Amarie sighed and looked longingly over at Honey, who smiled ruefully and gave her a little wave from her stool. "Why is Miss Honey on the naughty stool, Uncle Zach?" she asked. "Cards," Zach ordered, walking over to block Amarie's view of Honey with his massive body. Amarie resignedly turned back to signing her pink and purple mermaid cards that came with scented tattoos. Zach knew Amarie would be a problem. She adored Honey, and there was very little that Amarie's big brown eyes and reddish curls couldn't talk him into. She had a tender heart that couldn't believe anyone deserved to be punished; especially not someone as soft and sweet as his Honey. Goddammit. Honey leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the tightly muscled wall of Zach's back, then reached her hand up under his t-shirt and began gently scratching him. She could feel the warmth of his skin seep through the tight cotton, and smiled as she snuggled into him, still grazing her fingernails across the skin of his back. Zach's mind flashed back to this morning when her nails were not so gentle as he pounded into her tight, wet pussy, her nails digging deep, scoring his flesh in her ecstasy. A noise of pleasure escaped him before Zach disguised it as a barking cough, and quickly stepped away until he was a safer distance away from the irresistible vixen sitting, most deservedly, on the naughty stool. Shaking his head to clear it, Zach tucked his t-shirt back into his jeans and folded his arms. "Miss Honey is on the naughty stool. I ll tell you why. The other day when I got back from the race in California where I had to drag Terry's ass across the finish line in Fourth Place Behind The Fucking Bubbleheads," Zach ranted, before pausing to collect himself and continuing. "I go over to get Miss Honey at her apartment and find her giving a fucking haircut to a naked guy in her fucking living room!" "You cheated, Miss Honey?" Fallon gasped in disbelief, at the same time Logan called out "Thirty-six!" Zach fished a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and put it into the jar, taking a one out for change. A foot stomped on the floor and he glanced up to see Honey with her hand raised in the air, outrage written on her face. He raised his hand, blocking his view of her face and the heart-melting effect it had on him, and looked away dismissively. "He was not naked! Cade had a towel on!" Honey yelled in protest. Zach strode over to her, took her chin in his hand, trying to think of something harsh and authoritative to say, but got distracted by her plump lower lip instead, remembering how it felt to suck it between his own and have her open her mouth, hungry to accept his tongue. He could smell the faint strawberry scent of her lip balm and closed his eyes, clenching his jaw in an effort not to kiss her. "No talking on the naughty stool," he murmured, his eyes dipping down to let his gaze rove over her soft tits, loosely wrapped in her fuzzy sweater. Honey smirked and kissed his palm. "Miss Honey would never cheat," Amarie said with resolute confidence. Honey nodded in agreement and thanks to the young girl, tossed her long hair over her shoulder and grinned up at Zach. "Towel or no towel, I still saw Cade's nuts when she was goin' after him with the Flowbee," Zach explained, turning from Honey as Logan opened his mouth with a look of question, "And no, 'nuts' doesn't count as a swear," Zach finished, pointing at Logan. Zach resumed his rounds of the table, continuing his story. "So, of course, I reacted like anybody else who saw another guy's nuts in his girlfriend's living room, and she has the balls to tell me not to yell because it's not good for Cade." "I think 'nuts' should be fifty-cents; 'balls' too," Logan said, thoughtfully. "They might not be swears, but they are; indelicate." Zach turned to Honey and silently mouthed the word "indelicate?" to her, a discomfited look on his face. Honey bit her lips, and another snort of laughter erupted from the corner where Terry was still in starting push-up position. "Fourth Place, Maggot! You Got Nothing To Laugh About Except The Size Of Your;" Zach roared, before pausing and breathing deeply and continuing in a calmer voice. "Anyway. Turns out, this guy Cade just got back from a tour and was dealing with some PTSD when he saw another guy's balls in his living room, too, only his girl wasn't exactly giving the other guy a haircut. So, after a bit of trouble, he was living on the streets. No job. No money. Nothing. Then, a few days ago, Honey sees him eating some of the food she left out for a stray cat," Zach said, his voice constricting as his throat tightened. He turned away from the kids to hide his face for a moment, only to meet Honey's deep blue eyes and a whole new set of problems; like not remembering anything he was talking about before. She reached up and stroked his cheek, and then he felt all the blood in his brain drain down below his belt. Fucking hell. "Miss Honey helped him, though, didn't she?" Amarie said expectantly, more as a statement than a question. "What? Yeah. Of course, she did," Zach said with exasperation, looking down into Honey's face, and trying not to laugh at her stubbornly set jaw. "Miss Honey never fucking heard of "stranger danger," or met a wreck of a person she couldn't care about. So, she takes this 'Cade' in, feeds him, gets him washed up, takes him shopping at the Salvation Army, and then takes his ass to the library to write up his fucking resume and apply for jobs, for cryin' out loud," Zach said, putting another two dollars into the jar before Logan could remind him. "When I got there, Cade was there in her living room with his nuts showing under the towel, getting a vacuum cleaner haircut, because he'd gotten a job interview with a moving company." "Yeah, but if she wasn't cheating, I don't see what she did wrong," Fallon said, applying a scented mermaid tattoo to the back of his hand. "Is this what mermaids smell like?" he wondered. "Yeah, well, just as I was cooling down, this 'Cade' starts in on me for letting Honey stay in that piece of crap apartment of hers and taki

Elf on a Shelf: Part 2 Life in hob-along mode. Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When she woke the next morning, Zach was standing next to the bed with a pain pill and a glass of water. "Terry's gonna be here in about half an hour. I could make you some breakfast?" he said, putting the pill and the water into her hand. Honey shook her head, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'd; I'd like to take a shower before I go; if that's okay," she asked. "Right; uh; I'll just set it up for you. I'll get your things together after you're done in there; if you still want to go, that is; Honey closed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you," she whispered, unable to look at the silent pleading in his face. When the shower was ready, Zach carried her down the stairs and set her down in his large walk-in shower on the bathing chair he'd set up for her. "I, uh; I warmed up the water. The; soap and shampoo stuff is right here," he said, gesturing to a collection of bottles put down within her reach. "If you need anything, I'll be right; right here," he said, sitting down on the toilet, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Honey nodded and took off her nightgown and panties, putting them on the floor outside the shower. She leaned down and began unwrapping the velcro the straps on her boot, finding that she couldn't reach the last one. She opened her mouth to ask for help, but Zach was already sliding the door open to undo it for her. When he disassembled the boot around her foot and lifted it away, a slight whimper escaped her when the motion bumped her ankle slightly. Zach's eyes flashed to hers as she tried to cover herself with her arms, "I'm okay," she whispered. Clenching his jaw, Zach nodded, stood and left the stall. The water felt like heaven after the sad sponge baths she had given herself in bed. Her skin came alive in the heat and flushed a deep pink. "Is that too hot? You're getting red," Zach said, standing next to the door looking concerned. "No; it's perfect," she sighed. She twisted around to reach the shampoo and tipped it over, groaning as she watched it roll out of reach. Zach reached into the stall and returned it to her, growling in annoyance as he watched her try to squeeze some out with only one fully functional arm. Soon, he stepped into the shower with her, clad only in his underwear. "I don't know how you think you're going to do this by yourself; he grumbled, glaring at her as he massaged the shampoo into her long hair. "I'll figure it out; put a folding chair in the tub or something," she said, trying not to notice that the fabric of his underwear was leaving nothing to the imagination the wetter it got. "A fucking folding chair will slip. I'll send this one with you. You still can't reach shit, though." "I haven't done this before. I'll get better as I go." "Yeah, but until then, you'll; Look, you need to give me a call when you; so that I know you're okay." "You wouldn't be able to hear me talk; the water makes this growling noise," she said. "Well, why the fu; never mind. You call me before and after. No longer than 10 minutes, or I send Terry." "And he just does whatever you tell him? You're really kinda bossy." "Glad we sorted that out. Put your head back." With a smirk, Honey leaned back, letting him support her with his arm as he rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. After one minute, Zach began swearing under his breath. "I've been rinsing this shit out of your hair forever and there's still more! How the fuck is this possible?" Honey began giggling, despite the pain it caused her shoulder. "I guess you should allow me longer than 10 minutes to shower, then; she murmured. "Ten fucking minutes, or I send Terry." "Do you have any conditioner?" "Any what?" "Never mind," Honey said, trying to control her face. When he finally released her from being rinsed, Honey grabbed the loofa and put some body wash on it, washing what she could reach with her right arm while Zach glared down at her. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grated, roughly taking the fluffy sponge from her and then washing her with surprising gentleness. When he delicately supported and washed her broken ankle, he waited until he finished before looking up at her, "Remember, doctor says you can take off your boot for a while now and then, so that should help with the smell. I'll pack the extra sock so you can put a clean one on and wash the; well, just how the fuck are you going to do the laundry?" he asked, as if she created the concept of dirty laundry just to bother him. "Hand wash?" she suggested. "That won't work for these boot socks! They smell like gangrene or some shi;" "Well, now you're just flirting; she said, smiling up at him. For a moment Zach's face went completely blank, his eyes slowly traveling down her naked body as his face turned bright red, then he turned away and cursed under his breath again. "Grab onto my arm and I'll finish you up," he said, clenching his jaw and holding out his forearm to her, as he diligently looked away. Cautiously, she took his arm and tried to stand, rising wobbly on her left leg. Before she could gain her balance, her hand slipped on his wet arm and he pulled her tightly against him before she could fall. Body to body, they clung on to each other in the hot spray, each of them shaking. "Honey; you may notta noticed, but I'm hanging on by a fucking thread, here," Zach said quietly in her ear, "Try not to get yourself killed for two seconds." Honey nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist so that he could move his arms again. She felt him move the loofah between her legs and begin washing her private area, looking around the shower stall as he did. When Honey cringed and her breath hissed between her teeth, he stopped, "What's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her face. "It's; rough; she said, quietly. "Yeah, but it was fine when; oh; right; sensitive. Okay; he said, swallowing as he tossed the loofah aside and hesitantly reached his fingers between her legs. Honey leaned her forehead on his chest and closed her eyes, gasping when his fingers made contact. "Is that; is that okay?" he asked. She nodded and tried to move her legs further apart for him. Zach gently washed her, trying to think of sports scores, laxative commercials, or the accounts payable at the club, but inevitably his cock noticed that he was holding the woman of his dreams naked in his arms. When she shifted against him, trying to keep her balance, a breathy grunt escaped him as she inadvertently rubbed against him. "I'm sorry; she whispered, trying to give him more room. "Don't be; you're perfect; it's fine; he said, trying to think about anything but how it would feel to slide his cock between her slippery lips right at that moment. "Let me just get the; water; he gritted, reaching for the shower sprayer and directing it between her legs. Honey gasped and whimpered as the water pulsed against her clit, down her labia and over her anus again and again, feeling Zach's eyes on her as he did it, intensely absorbing her every reaction. She trembled as she held on to him, trying to remain calm. Finally, she raised her eyes up to him and opened her wet lips and whispered, "Zach; ?" "Hey, how do you guys want your eggs?" Terry asked, sticking his head into the bathroom. "Get The Fuck Out Of Here, Maggot!" Zach roared, as Honey squealed and released him, quickly ducking down to where Terry couldn't see her on the shower chair. "Scrambled, it is," Terry said, ducking out of the bathroom and leaving them alone again. Zach watched Honey begin to shiver as the room cooled off and handed her a towel. "Let me know when you're dry and I'll wrap up your leg again," he said, looking around the bathroom uncomfortably before wrapping a towel around his waist and taking off his wet underwear from underneath. After securing her ankle in the air cast, Zach carried her back up to the bedroom, turned his back to her, and blocked Terry's kitchen view of the loft as Honey dressed. When she finished, Zach turned around again, his mouth hardening into a grim line when he saw she had put on her elf dress again. "You're; going, then," he said, frowning as he watched her wince at the pain in her shoulder as she tried to tie the thick red ribbon belt behind her back. He stepped behind her and took the belt out of her hands and began brusquely tying it. "I want you to stay," he said to the back of her head, tugging the loops into a tight knot. Honey hobbled around to face him, "Enough to tell me why you wanted to send that message to someone?" she asked him, her dark blue eyes somber. "You; you wouldn't want to stay if I did," he murmured, stroking the soft velvet covering her arms. "Then, I guess I should go," she said, looking away before she could start crying again. "Wow, nice apartment!" Terry said, following Honey inside her apartment with the bag of her clothes. "The blood stains really bring the room together; "Say what you will, it's all mine," she said, hobbling over to the sofa and curling up, exhausted. "Here's your mail. I gotta text Zach, he's going nuts; well, more than usual, anyway," he said, handing her a stack of envelopes. "Arrived at hellhole; Angel has typhoid; the tweakers give their love; send food stamps," he said aloud, typing into his phone as Honey went through her mail. "Let me go set up the bath chair; just the thing to class up the joint," he said, disappearing to the bathroom. When Terry returned, he found Honey white as a sheet, reading a letter. "Whoa, kid; you okay? Need a pain pill? Let me take you back to Zach's. You look like you really do have typhoid; he said, kneeling down next to her. "Um; yeah, I'm fine," she said faintly, then cleared her throat. "Would; would you mind taking that laptop with you when you go deliver the charity gifts to

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, afte

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 4 Finding real love, at last. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. Driving home the next day felt like waking up from some kind of dream until I pulled into our driveway and Munchkin came running out to greet me. As I was getting out to reassure him that he hadn't been abandoned, the reality of my life settled right back in. I went inside, and Lane and Mary grunted their hellos without looking up. Ah, home. I texted Erin that I made it back safely, and she replied almost immediately saying what a great night she had, and how much she missed me already. It was going to be a long three weeks until she rotated back to the hospital in Petoskey. Luckily, life was as busy as always, and time flew by. For the first time since I was a child, I could honestly say that I was happy. My happiness lasted until the day before Erin was scheduled to return. I got my first inkling that something might be wrong when I called to see if Wilma wanted me to pick up any groceries for her from town. She didn't answer, which was strange, and the call went to voicemail. Even if she was napping, she was a very light sleeper and would normally answer by the third ring. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, so I went straight to Wilma's to make sure she was alright. Everything seemed fine when I pulled into the yard, but there was no answer when I knocked on her door. I tried again, but there was nothing but an eerie silence. Fearing the worst, I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and went inside. I called Wilma's name and, hearing no reply, went quickly through the house trying to find her. When I got to her bedroom, I could hear a low moaning sound from the attached washroom. I ran in and found Wilma collapsed by the bathtub. She had slipped and hit her head, injuring her hip and arm in the process. She didn't have her phone with her when she fell and had been unable to move, so who knows how long she had been lying there. I called 911 for an ambulance and then called Erin and suggested that she meet us at the hospital. It took forever for the paramedics to arrive, and longer still to get Wilma loaded into the ambulance. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already being triaged by their emergency team. I took a few minutes while I waited for an update on Wilma's condition to call the rest of the family and give them the news. Alison came directly to the hospital after class, and Sharon brought Mary and Lane as soon as they got home from school. Erin arrived a few hours later and broke down when she saw me. Finally, just after nine, the doctors gave Erin an update. Wilma was in rough shape; she was badly dehydrated and had a moderate concussion, a fractured wrist, and a bone bruise on her hip. It would take her weeks to recover in the hospital. The good news was that she would make a recovery, given enough time and support. Erin and Mary decided to stay with Wilma in the hospital while Sharon dropped Alison at her dorm and drove Lane back to the house. By midnight, Mary had nodded off in a chair in the corner of Wilma's room, while I waited outside with Erin. "You should go home, Davis. There's nothing else you can do tonight. Thank God, you found her; I am not sure what I would have done if you hadn't. I already lost Grampy; I am not ready to lose Gran as well. They are all I have." I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close. "You have me, now, too. And the girls. And you know Lane would do anything for you, you just need to ask. I was serious about what I said in Grand Rapids, Erin. I love you." Erin pulled me closer but didn't reply. The following week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Wilma was improving far quicker than the doctors had anticipated, but she would still be in rehab for at least another two weeks. It was impossible to hide Wilma's accident from the rest of the family, and they descended on the hospital like vultures; or, more accurately, their lawyers descended on the hospital while, for the most part, they stayed far away where it was warm. The one exception was Erin's stepfather, who flew in the next day. "For Christ's sake, Erin. Haven't you done enough harm as it is? Do you want your Gran to die alone on the floor of that dingy old shack of hers? It's time for her to move into a care facility that can look after her. Be reasonable!" When he failed to persuade Erin to act on his behalf, his attorneys requested an emergency court order, alleging that Wilma lacked the capacity to make her own medical decisions, that Erin was not acting in her best interests, and that one of Wilma's children should be appointed as her legal guardian. Wilma was furious when she learned of his actions, but there was little she could do to stop him until she was discharged from the hospital. Both sides knew that her doctor's recommendation would hold a lot of weight with the judge, and it was not good news for Wilma when it came. "If Mrs. Anderson is to return home, she will require around-the-clock care and company. If such care can't be arranged, then I recommend that she be placed in a long-term assisted-living facility that can treat any lingering effects from her fall, and from her late-stage cancer." Erin took the news like a physical blow, and she staggered backward to a chair. We didn't have the resources for 24-hour nursing, and it would be impossible to arrange it with such short notice even if we did. "I'm sorry, Davis. I need to be alone for a while to think." She left without looking back or saying goodbye to Wilma, and I just let her go. I wanted to ease her pain, but I knew that there was nothing I could do. She had lost, and her family had won. I was despondent as I made my way towards the exit, so much so that I nearly ran into Alison who was finishing up her shift at the hospital. "You look terrible, Brother, what happened? Is Wilma alright?" I explained to her about the doctor's recommendation and Erin's reaction. "No one has had the heart to tell Wilma, yet. She's recovered from the fall, but this news is going to kill her." Alison looked at me for a minute, before her mouth quirked upwards in a smile. "I'll do it." "What do you mean? "I'll do it. I'll look after Wilma. I am wrapping up my clinical practicum tomorrow, and I was planning on working this summer. I will look after Wilma instead. Mary can move in with us as well, and I can teach her what she needs to know to care for her when I'm not there. Once her school year is done in June, she and I can spell each other off, and I can still pick up some shifts here and there." It was an amazing offer, but I couldn't let her do it. "Alison, I can't ask you to give up your job for the summer. You need that money for your living expenses at school." "You're not asking; I'm offering. And since you've paid for my tuition so far, I am debt-free and can take out a loan to cover my last term." "I didn't cover the tuition, it was your;" "Davis. Really? Our mother, who never met a five-dollar bill she couldn't snort or inject, left me a college fund? Please. I am not an idiot. I love you, Big Brother, and I love what you have done for me and the others, but it's my time to step up now as well. Let me do this." I felt a heaviness lift from my chest as I hugged Alison and lifted her off her feet. I tried to reach Erin to let her know about Alison's offer, but I drove to her apartment, and she wasn't there, and she must have turned her phone off. I figured she must have gone to Wilma's, so I headed that way. I pulled in just as the sun was setting and found her SUV parked in the laneway, crosshatched by the lengthening shadows of the trees. I parked and saw a lone figure at the end of the dock, still wearing her scrubs. I could see whitecaps on the waves as they smashed into the dock, and I knew she must be freezing, so I grabbed my jacket out of the back of the truck and went to join her. The footing was treacherous, with patches of ice hidden by the gloom and spray, but I made my way carefully to Erin and wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and leaned back against me. "Am I doing the right thing, Davis? Gran could have died. She would have died if not for you. Can we risk that happening again? Am I just holding on to the past?" When she was finished, Erin lapsed into silence. "You are doing what Wilma asked you to do. I know your stepfather says that she isn't mentally competent, but I tell you, if she's not mentally competent then none of us are." "But it doesn't make a difference anymore. You heard what the doctor said, and I can't go against her recommendation." "You don't have to, Erin. Alison has offered to move in with Wilma to look after her, and she will teach Mary to look after her as well. Between the two of them, Wilma can stay in the house until the fall, at least, and then we can see." Erin turned towards me in her excitement but lost her footing on the slippery dock and fell backward into the water, pulling me with her. Now, in the summer, that kind of accident might be cause for some laughter and an embarrassing story around the dinner table. In late April, however, spending any time in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan could rapidly prove fatal. The shock from the cold when Erin hit the water caused her to gasp involuntarily, and she took in a mouthful. I had a half-second longer to prepare myself and managed to keep my mouth closed as I submerged, but I could immediately feel the cold in my extremities. The ladder that would normally have been at the end of the dock had been taken out for the winter, so we had no choice but to make for shore. Time compressed as I struggled to pull us through the water while Erin coughed and vomited. Finally, we dragged ourselves onto the shore, wet and shivering. I felt clumsy and weak from the cold, and my clothes felt like they weighed a hundred po

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 3 How did we ever get here? Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. "When I was fourteen, Mr. Johnson introduced me to a friend of his, Henry White, who was a master plumber. Henry was a high-functioning alcoholic whose temper had driven away all his old apprentices and journeymen. Luckily, I was always big for my age, and Mr. Johnson assured Henry that I was seventeen, turning eighteen in the next few months, so he took me on with the promise to make me an apprentice as soon as I was old enough. By the time that Henry learned my actual age, he had come to rely on me so much that he kept me on." "But what about school? Don't you need a high school diploma to become an apprentice?" "One good thing about growing up in a small town is that most people know the score. I made it to school when I could, and Henry and I worked a lot on the weekends, while Alison watched the rest of my siblings. Most of my teachers let me through with C's and D's, even though I must have missed half of my classes. Everyone knew that I was working with Henry and that I would need my high school diploma to become an apprentice, so they just kind of let me slip through. "I had well over 6,000 hours of experience plumbing before I even turned 18 and could formally become an apprentice. By that point, Henry was a significantly less functional alcoholic, and I was doing everything for his business; all the plumbing and all of the invoicing. He just signed off on the work. If anyone had ever looked into it, he could have gotten into real trouble, but we did smaller jobs for folks who didn't have a lot of money, so no one ever noticed or cared. "Just about the last thing that Henry did before he passed was to swear out my application to become a master plumber. Then one day I showed up for work, and he had died in his sleep. He didn't own much of anything, other than his tools, and he didn't have any family that I knew of, so I just kept on working." After a few minutes spent lying together in silence, I thought that Erin might have drifted off, but she had one more question for me before she did. "When did your mom leave?" I had never told anyone that part of my story; even my brother and sisters thought that Mom had just left one day, leaving me in charge. The reality was so much worse. "By the time Lane started school, Mom had already left us. Not physically, but in all the other ways that matter. She didn't work, and she regularly brought her 'boyfriends' back to our house to trade sex for drugs. Any support she got from social services went straight into her arm or up her nose. I was working long hours by then, to pay the rent and put food on the table, so sometimes that meant that Mary or my brother would be at home with Mom when I wasn't there. I knew it was playing with fire, but there was nothing I could do about it other than pray. "Normally, when I got home, I would blow my horn as I pulled into our drive and Lane would come running out to hug me and tell me about his day. So, I knew something was wrong when I came home late one evening, turned off my truck, and he still hadn't come out. I went inside, and Mom was sitting stoned in the living room watching TV. I asked where Lane was, and she just waved toward the back of the house. Alison and Sharon were out, so Mary and Lane were home with her by themselves. I found him in the room that we shared, cowering in the corner, with little Mary guarding the door. She was only eight at the time. "After a few minutes, I got Lane to tell me what was wrong, and he showed me his arm. Earlier, he had been in the kitchen and had bumped into Mom while she was cooking something on the stove. In a burst of rage, or maybe just evil, she grabbed his arm and held it against the burner. You can still see the scar on his arm today. "That was the end of it. I asked Mary to stay with Lane in our room, I packed Mom's things into the one suitcase we owned, and I drove her to the bus station. I bought her a ticket to Grand Rapids, gave her all the cash in my wallet, and waited with her until she boarded. I told her I would call the police if she ever came back. "Before she left, she spat on me and told me she wished I had never been born." I marveled at how flat my voice sounded, but to my surprise, my cheeks felt wet. I thought I had lost the ability to cry long ago. "Can you imagine that, abandoning your own mother? I'll probably burn in hell, but it was the only way I could think of to keep my brother and sisters safe. I haven't seen her since, although she used to call a couple of times a year asking for money. I didn't feel too bad about hanging up on her when she did, though, since she was still collecting family benefits for us all. Lane barely remembers her, which is likely a blessing, so I made up the story about Mom going away for the weekend and never coming back. "Since then, I have done what was needed for us to survive. When Alison finished school, she wanted to stay home to help look after the others, but I convinced her to go to college. I said that Mom had put aside some money for her tuition, but of course, that was a lie. I have been making the payments for her, but I wanted her to have the chance to just be young, for once. To get away from all of this, at least for a while." "But what about you, Davis?" "I don't matter." "Well, you matter to me." While I was speaking, Erin had wrapped both arms around me and was now holding me tight against her body. When I finished, my body was wracked by waves of uncontrollable grief, but she held me through it all. Eventually, as I started to calm down, she gave me gentle kisses on the nape of my neck and whispered to me in a soft voice. I don't remember what she said, but I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The power came back on early the next morning, and Erin and I were the first people to wake up. She lay beside me with a small smile on her face. "You've had some hard times, Davis Crawford, but you have come out the other side. You're pretty amazing." I felt a sudden burst of both elation and fear as I returned her smile. "Thanks for listening and not judging me. I've never told anyone some of the things I shared with you." "It was my pleasure. Now let's get up and make some coffee." Looking out the window, the snowdrifts were over two feet high in places, but I knew they weren't going to get any lighter as the sun came out and they started to melt. "I am going to get started on the shoveling if you want to start on breakfast." Erin gave me a bemused look. "Or maybe, I am fully capable of shoveling snow, and we can get it done twice as fast by working together." A few minutes after we started, Lane came out to help. At one point, when Erin was on the other side of the yard, he started to speak. "I heard some of what you said to Erin last night. I never knew what Mom did to you, what you did to protect us. Thank you." "Ah, Bud. I never wanted you to worry. Mom wasn't well for a long time, and she made some terrible choices. But she's gone now, and you will always be safe with me." By the time we finished, we had worked ourselves into a lather, so I suggested to Wilma that she get a snow plowing service for the winter. She gave me a look that implied that somewhere there was a village searching for its idiot; and that idiot was me. "Oh, I have a service, but they take so long to come that they are useless if they bother to show up at all." Erin jumped into the conversation, looking pissed off. "It's part of my family and the McDougal's ongoing campaign to get Gran to move. I have told them how dangerous the game they are playing is, but they just don't seem to care." I thought for a minute, before walking a little ways away and making a call. When I returned, I had some good news for Wilma. "Go ahead and cancel your current service. If they aren't going to do the work, they shouldn't have a problem with not getting paid. I called an old friend of mine from school who runs a snow removal company out of Harbor Springs, who owes me a favor or nine. From now on, you will be at the top of his list." Erin and I texted just about every day between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we talked most nights when she wasn't working. We were both insanely busy; Erin was providing pediatric coverage for two hospitals that were three hours apart, and I was working as much overtime as possible, to save up for Christmas. Some weeks, the only time we had to meet in person was Sunday afternoons at Wilma's. Mary, in turn, was flourishing under Wilma's guidance. It seemed like she was channeling her emotions into her art, and I began to see the kind and thoughtful sister reemerge that I thought I had lost forever. She wouldn't show me the painting she was working on, but Wilma said she was making good progress, and that was all I needed to know. As it got towards mid-December, our thoughts turned to Christmas. Since Wilma's family was still boycotting the holidays, we decided to have a joint celebration like at Thanksgiving. Erin was going to be working at the hospital in Petoskey on Christmas Day, but we promised to keep Wilma company and to bring her a Christmas meal that she could eat on her break. In typical fashion, she tried to convince us that she would be fine with cafeteria food, but we would hear nothing of it. When we got to Wilma's house for lunch on Christmas Day, she had stockings laid out by the fireplace with a present for each of us. Santa must have had a very healthy budget, because he brought Lane a new fishing rod, Mary a set of expensive paints and charcoals, Sharon a contribution to her college fund, and Alison a specialized nurse's bag with a personalized stethoscope. Rather than a present, my stocking came with a small envelope that contained a pair of tickets to the traveling production of "Moulin Rouge" that was pl

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 2 Dancing, and other forms of sentimentality. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.  As we finished the prep work, I asked Wilma about her day with Mary. "She is a good kid but is carrying a lot of anger and shame. We spent most of the day getting in touch with that anger. It takes some people years before they can express their emotions through art; it took her about five minutes. But we had to take some breaks to clean up the paint splatters afterward before they stained." "Oh shit! Sorry about that. I can pay to replace anything that;" "Nothing to apologize for; I asked her to express how she felt, and she did it in the way that felt right to her." "Well, I appreciate your taking the time. I am just her big brother; I feel so lost when it comes to parenting." "Being a parent doesn't mean that you know any more than anyone else, and it certainly doesn't mean that you know any better. For what it's worth, I think you are doing a fine job with your family. I know that you don't have your parents around to say it, but this old woman is mighty proud of who you are and of how you have stepped up for your brother and sisters. They are very lucky to have you." I turned away so that Wilma wouldn't see me getting choked up. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had said they were proud of me. Soon enough, though, it was dinner time, and Erin came into the kitchen with that same look of amusement on her face. "Sorry to bother the chef, but Lane needs some help that only a big brother can provide." When I gave her a quizzical look, she blushed. "It seems like he is going through puberty, which can pose; some new challenges. When I was assessing his ankle, he; well, indicated his interest in me in a way that can be difficult to hide, particularly while wearing sweatpants. It's natural for his body to react that way at that age, and it's nothing for him to feel badly about, but he was mortified. I think he could use a bit of brotherly guidance and understanding." I went to the living room and saw that Lane was curled up on the couch and looked like he was fighting back tears. "How are you doing, Buddy?" He couldn't even look at me he was so embarrassed. "I am so sorry; I just couldn't help it. I don't know why it started to get bigger, and I wanted it to stop, and it wouldn't and then she saw me, and;" he continued as he fought back a sob. "Can we just go home?" "Erin is a doctor. She knows how the human body works and has seen that kind of thing a hundred times. She isn't mad at you or embarrassed. She just feels bad that you feel so bad. This is just part of getting older and growing up. "Did I ever tell you about what happened in Miss Iron's class when I was a freshman? Miss Iron was a bit of a legend among the male students at our local high school. She was the youngest and prettiest teacher, by far, and even though she always dressed professionally, the clothing style had yet to be invented that could fully conceal her bountiful natural endowment. "Well, I liked Miss Irons a lot. She was one of the few teachers who looked past my difficulty with reading and writing. So, I developed a little crush on her, which was fine until the inevitable; hmm, physical demonstration of my crush; happened in class one day, just before she asked me to collect everyone's quizzes. I tried to delay, I tried to ask a friend to do it instead, but eventually, I had to stand up. It took me until my junior year to live that one down." As Lane listened to my story, he turned to face me and his second-hand embarrassment for me helped to push his embarrassment to the side. "So, what happened?" "Miss Irons was lovely and kind like she always was, but I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me or to get hit by a bolt of lightning. Things would have been fine if she hadn't mentioned what happened to the principal, who called Mom. She didn't find the story funny at all." I hadn't thought of the aftermath when I started telling Lane this particular story, but as they say, might as well put it in four-wheel drive and keep going. "Mom was mad?" "By then, Mom was pretty much always angry. I did my best to keep her away from you and the girls when she got that way, but yeah; she was mad." "Are you mad at me?" "No, Bud, I'm not. In a few years, once your embarrassment has died down a little, I will tease you mercilessly about this because that's what brothers do; and maybe threaten to tell your girlfriend, if you fall behind on your chores or homework. But I will never get mad at you for something that you can't control. And I promise that Erin isn't mad at you either." Just then, Mary poked her head in to tell us that dinner was on the table. "Are you safe now, or do you need a few more minutes." "I'm good. Thanks, Dad." After I helped Lane hobble into the dining room, we got down to the business of eating and teasing each other, but not necessarily in that order. It felt good; almost like what I imagined a real family would feel like. Eventually, the conversation turned to more serious matters, though, and Erin led off the questions. "So, how do you know Gran, and why are you wearing Grampy's favorite sweater? And, for what it's worth, I don't remember him filling it out in quite the way that you do." I blushed a bit as Wilma jumped in. "If Phillip had filled out that sweater like young Davis here, it wouldn't have stayed on him for very long, I can tell you that." "Gran!" Erin exclaimed, laughing while sounding scandalized. "I didn't need that mental image. Heck, none of us needed that mental image." "Oh, don't you worry, Dear. He still filled it out well enough, and it looked equally good on our bedroom floor." We were pretty much all blushing at that point, which I think was Wilma's objective, so I quickly changed the topic. "I am just your mother's plumber. I came out to fix her boiler and then finished the job earlier this week when a couple of parts came in that I needed." Wilma jumped in at that point and added her two cents to my story. "He also brought me my groceries and we had a lovely conversation. He is a real Renaissance gentleman, a rarity these days." Erin looked grateful but concerned. "Did you have enough money to cover the bill, Gran? You know I can help if you need;" I tried to jump in before Wilma could reply. "No need to worry, the bill was paid in full;" "Hogwash," Wilma exclaimed as I tried to finish, turning to Mary before she continued. "Your brother wouldn't let me pay him a cent for the work that he did. Not even for the parts that needed to be replaced! He is a very nice boy but a terrible businessman." I turned to Erin for support. "I figured your Gran has enough going on right now with her health and all. It was the least I could do to help her out." Erin looked at me with a strange expression on her face. I didn't have much experience with women, so I figured I must have made her angry somehow. Most of my interactions with women, including my sisters, seemed to end with them being upset with me for one reason or another, but she didn't sound angry when she spoke. "Thank you, Davis, that was very sweet of you." "Yeah, well; you see, it's just; pass the fish, please." "That still doesn't explain why you're wearing Grampy's favorite sweater. When I was a little girl, I used to curl up in Grampy's lap and snuggle into that sweater as he read to me. He was wearing it when I danced my first dance with him in front of the fireplace. Do you remember that old record player, Gran? You used to bring it out and we would waltz around the living room to Moon River." "I still have that record player here somewhere, let me go see if I can find it." Erin started to protest, but it was too late. "To finish answering your question, Erin, we were here today because your Gran offered to mentor Mary. I tried to politely decline, but your Gran is pretty persistent when she wants to be." "That sounds like Gran. Most of the time when she makes a suggestion, it is really a command." "While we are asking questions, how is Lane's ankle?" "It's pretty badly sprained, and he will need to use crutches to walk for the next couple of weeks. You should bring him to the hospital to get some X-rays done as well, to make sure that he doesn't have any fractures." I could feel myself deflate as she mentioned X-rays. "I'm not trying to be cheap, but are the X-rays absolutely necessary? We don't have the best insurance; we got it through the exchange. I guess it's better than nothing, but the deductible is pretty high, and my other sister, Alison, her college tuition is due soon. But if you say it's important, I will put in some extra hours to make it work." It didn't usually bother me that we were poor. Heck, most everyone we knew, except the McDougals, was poor. But it hit home when you had to tell a beautiful doctor with bright amber eyes that you couldn't afford an X-ray for your little brother unless it was urgent. "Tell you what. I will be working at the hospital in Petoskey tomorrow, so why don't you bring Lane by, and I will take care of him? I will make sure that he gets a pair of loaner crutches for as long as he needs them." "You don't need to do that for us." Erin gave me another one of her looks, this one I was more familiar with; I was pretty sure it was annoyance. "So, just to be clear, you can look after my Gran, fix her boiler for free, and bring her groceries whenever you feel like it, but I can't look after your brother and make sure that his ankle is treated properly?" "Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a bit of a jackass. I'm sorry." "Apology accepted. Come by the hospital at 11 AM tomorrow." Before we could continue, the sound of a 45 playing on an old record player filled the house. You could hear the hisses and pops before Ella Fitzgerald's voice began to sing "

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 3 Being naughty can be a very good thing, if he needs help getting jolly. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "Just when I thought it couldn't get better;" Ginny sighed, lost in bliss. "You certainly know what a woman wants." "I aim to please." Santa said cheerfully, putting one arm around her waist and holding her close while he guided the sleigh. "Think we might've sated you for a while?" "Hmm, maybe for a bit, right?" she purred, stretching like a cat before sitting forward and looking down over the earth, lit by clusters of lights that punctuated the darkness of Christmas Eve. It wasn't long before she began to giggle. "Schilling for your thoughts." Santa said, giving her tit a squeeze. "Well, you probably don't remember, but we've met before," she mentioned lightly, turning her head to wink at him. "I sure remember it." "Oh? Do tell." "Well," she said casually, her thoughts drifting back. "I was sixteen and my girlfriends and I were at the mall. We saw you and decided to sit on your lap. So Cari and I were sitting on you at the same time, squirming our asses on you and kept whispering naughty things in your ears, things we wanted to do to you, you know?" Santa didn't respond for several moments. "See?" Ginny said, smirking. "Told you that you didn't remember." "What; was the date of that, Virginia?" he asked warily. "December fifteenth, eight years ago, about seven-thirty pm," she said. "I still have a photo. Why?" "Because I wasn't in your city on December fifteenth eight years ago," he said with reluctance. "I was in Lahina on Maui, judging a naked limbo contest at a luau." She was silent for some time. "You're; you're sure?" Santa nodded. "Oh, God;" Ginny whispered, her eyes distant. "That means that Cari and I were grinding on some creepy mall Santa; oh, shit, I could feel him getting hard and everything!" Ginny scrunched her face up in revulsion and was flapping her arms in horror. "Oh, God. Blah! Blah! Blah!" Santa's roaring laughter echoed through the darkness as his date for the evening struggled to not puke off the side of the sleigh and onto the unsuspecting town below. Silent Runnings. She always kind of assumed that the sleigh made little or no noise when it touched down on a roof. After all, what kept some survivalist gun nut from trying to blow Santa away with his collection of automatic rifles when he heard some noise he couldn't account for? The sleigh glided silently onto the roof, the blades letting out little more than a hiss and the patter of the reindeer's hooves barely audible. Santa leapt out lightly and assisted her in exiting the sleigh before grinning at her. "Now, I won't be long, just hang tight and stay near the sleigh, if you're within the Gellar Field, you'll keep warm, alright?" Ginny raised an eyebrow in his direction, nonplussed. "Um, 'excuse me? I'm here with Santa Fucking Claus on Christmas Motherfucking Eve. How many times can a girl say that? If you think for one second I'm not delivering presents with you, then you're even more stupid that Krampus. I'm coming." Santa seemed hesitant. "Virginia, I've been at this since Proto-Hittite times, one way or another. I'm kind of an expert and I don't want you to hurt;" "Oh, get real," she snorted, pushing past him toward the chimney. She was glad to note that the 'Gellar Field', whatever the hell that was, seemed to be keeping her warm at this distance. "If your fat ass can fit down a chimney with that huge bag, so can mine." She clambered over the lip of the chimney and eased herself down inside it. Santa watched silently as she wriggled out of sight. There was no noise for several seconds. Finally Ginny spoke, her voice coming up the flue. "Okay, kinda stuck here, with my nose pressed into my own asshole. Little help?" Santa chuckled lightly and reached for a can of grease. Piloting a Ginny. "You're getting better at this, I must say," Santa remarked as he rummaged through his bag of presents while Ginny guided the sleigh. "Last person who drove the sleigh for me, the reindeer resisted a lot. They like you." "Oh?" Ginny replied, twisting the reins slightly and veering the sleigh team southwest. "Who was she?" Santa cleared his throat. "Actually, it was Krampus. Well, he was Pete back then, and it was over six hundred years ago." It took Ginny a moment to recover from her shock and concentrate on guiding the sleigh. Fortunately, the reindeer seemed to know where they were going. "Six hundred;" "Yup," Santa confirmed. "The Belgian monks were still getting the recipe for Stella Artois right the last time one of my kids helped me out." "But what about all your wives you were telling me about?" she asked. "They must've been in the sleigh before." Santa shrugged. "Yeah, people have been in it, I've taken them places, but you and Pete are the only two who have ever helped me on Christmas Eve." She felt herself grow warm, and for once it wasn't because she was wet and horny. "I'm really helping you?" He nodded. "It may be that I'm late because of the donnybrook back at your place, Virginia, but that wasn't your fault, it's just what was meant to be. I was meant to be put behind and now you're meant to be driving this sleigh while I get organized. No matter how many me's there are out there, it won't make a difference unless you're here tonight. It's fated to be that way." Ginny didn't know what to say. She just calmly guided the sleigh, feeling a contentment she'd never quite known before. She was dimly aware of some other shadowy iteration of Santa's sleigh streaking by some miles to the north and waved absently. She couldn't explain why any of this made sense, but it did. She really was different after all. A house below them shone with a golden light in the dark and she turned the reigns easily to guide the reindeer in its direction. There were over a dense residential area, the streets lined with endless numbers of small homes and semis. They glided onto a roof and clambered out. She followed Santa and his present sack down the chimney. In spite of his bulk, he slid down the tight shaft in a way that made her cunt inexplicably wet. "Now that I think of it," she whispered as she wriggled down with him. "How do we get into houses where there's no chimney?" "It was a lot easier before central heating," he answered, almost upside down as he worked his way toward the ground. "For lack of a better term, it's just B & E, I guess. I've got the keys and security codes for every residence on earth." "Wow," she grunted as she twisted and wiggled, her tits squashed to her mouth. If they'd had more time she would have sucked on them for a bit as a reward to herself. "Even Kim Jong-Un?" "Yeah, but he's not getting anything you want to know about for Christmas," Santa muttered. "He's a very bad boy." "So, what, like a leaky bag of flaming panda shit?" she mused, occupying herself as she strained to keep up. "Because that's what he kinda deserves." "Christmas is the one night of the year we don't discuss politics, Virginia." Santa mentioned as he finally freed himself of the confines of the flue and dusted himself off. He helped Ginny out as well, smiling and kissing her nose as she held her off the ground. She blushed and let him put her down, moving to a corner of the living room and watching intently. The house they were in was not big, a modest home for a small family. Santa was rummaging around in his bag, absently noshing on the cookies left on a table near the tree. The tree itself was rather sparse on gifts, something Santa seemed to be rectifying. Ginny didn't notice the other person in the room until it was too late. "So there you are, big man;" Ginny started at the voice but Santa merely stood and turned around, smiling warmly. At the entrance to the room was a woman in a robe. She was older than Ginny, but not more than in her late twenties or early thirties. She had the look of a tired mom. "Been waiting a long, long time to prove to myself that you were real and the presents I couldn't account for just came out thin air," she sighed, nodding. She had sandy-brown hair, done in a long bob. Her face was pretty enough, but you could see in her eyes that sleep was more of an afterthought than anything. "But here you are." "It's good to see you, Linda." Santa said warmly, moving toward her and hugging her. She sighed as he embraced her and Ginny smiled, knowing exactly how content and relieved Linda felt at the moment, whoever the hell she was. "Whoa, did I just get jealous of some girl hugging Santa?" "I can't believe you're here in all your chubby glory," Linda remarked, smiling up at him. "It's a dream come true." Santa nodded. "Little Karen's been very good this year, Linda. She's a real blessing. I brought her the puppy she wanted." Ginny frowned and looked down at a small object that was obviously a puppy, wrapped prettily in Christmas paper and sporting a golden bow on its snout. The puppy panted happily, curled up and went to sleep beneath the tree. "She'll love it," Linda said quietly, her eyes shining. "She'll be so thrilled." "I know she will." Santa said, smiling and placing a hand on Linda's cheek. "Sorry things didn't work out with Bob. He doesn't know what he's missing." "Thanks, I keep telling myself that too," Linda said, dabbing at her eye. "Have you got an STD for his stocking, maybe?" "No," Santa chuckled. "But you need to know that everything's going to be fine, Linda. You've made it this far, you're raising an amazing girl and you own this place now. If I could give you Mother of the Year, I would. But I can't, not my department, so that leaves me to ask; what do you want for Christmas, Linda?" Linda looked into his eyes before her hands reached down and began fumbling with his wide, black belt. Ginny shook her head and sighed, knowing exactly why Linda's reaction was so in

Miracle On Route 34: Part 2 Virginia and Santa face extreme danger together. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Someone attacked Santa with a wicked-looking spiked hand-axe, something out of a sci-fi movie. He batted the weapon aside and clapped his open hands across the man's ears, busting his brain. Before he dropped, Santa grabbed the corpse and swung it around in a wide arc, smashing it into the foes surrounding him and knocking them back. "Shit!" Ginny squealed as one of the targets landed near her. "It's like the fucking Matrix in here!" As he threw the corpse away, he paused very briefly and glanced at her. "Since you happen to be right there, how about a little mood music?" "What?" "I'm just saying some music would be nice if we're going to be doing this," he called. "You're next to the entertainment system, how about putting something on?" "You’re shitting me, right?" she almost complained, wincing as she heard something delicate-sounding and expensive smash behind her amidst the wild brawl. She stared at the multimedia system, flapping her arms in frustration as she tried to focus through the noise. This couldn't be happening. She clutched the sleeves of her plush robe for a moment, trying to concentrate on its soft, fuzzy texture and center herself. She'd almost forgotten the large nerf gun in her hands but ignored it now, fixing her gaze on the mp3 playlist. She pressed a button. "Silent night; Holy night;" Bing crooned through the room. "Not really what I had in mind!" Santa mentioned loudly as he rammed his knee into a man's chin. "Try again!" Ginny bit her lip and pressed the button again, this time rewarded with Gary Glitter singing 'Another Rock And Roll Christmas'. "Still not quite there," he said as he snapmared another foe. "Better, but not quite!" "Well I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "What kind of music do you put on while Santa kills things in your living room?" Santa turned sideways and thrust his foot out, kicking an intruder in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards, rolling head over heels until he thumped into the entertainment system, jolting it and skipping the player. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Perfect!" he declared as he fought, swarmed once again by foes. "Seriously?" Ginny yelled. "Combichrist is Santa's fucking fighting groove?" "I'm trying to figure out why you have it on your playlist," Santa replied. "I don't remember you liking aggrotech!" "Why the hell do you of all people even know what it is?" she shot back, wincing as she watched another body sail into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch before dropping to the floor and leaving a huge, crumbling dent in the stone. 'This Shit Will Fuck You Up!' "I prefer the term 'Hellektro' myself," he added. "And I know all songs, silly. I remember when the Dayglo Abortions wrote that 'Hey Santa!' song back in the '80's, they didn't get presents for” "I didn't ask, why are you answering?" she hissed. "Kill! Kill!" All the while, the pounding rhythms of the music filled the room. "I am a bitch. How do you want me? From behind, or on my knees? I am a slut, please hold me down, I'll be your noise, This shit will fuck you up!" "Well, at least we know why it's on your playlist, anyway!" he mentioned as he broke someone's back over his knee. "Very funny, red man!" Ginny hissed, scowling. She ducked wildly as another assailant flew overhead and landed in the Jacuzzi, his neck slamming against the hard edge with a snap noise and then tilting at a strange angle, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "These guys eat too much red meat!" Santa smashed two heads together before punting a third man in the chest, sending him staggering back until he fell against the entertainment unit, right next to Ginny, his eyes spiraling in his head. She scowled down at him for a moment before smashing the pitcher of nog on his cranium and sending him to the floor. Every single intruder stopped and turned to look at her suddenly, their eyes narrowing and turning very yellow. "Eep;" Ginny said quietly, going pale. They all howled and lunged toward her, even as Santa fought to reach her first. She shrieked in fright. "Darn it, Ginny!" he shouted in what almost sounded like irritation. "I told you not to do anything!" "You said not to use the stupid nerf gun!" she shot back as she dodged wildly and began to run around, evading her pursuers. "I meant don't do anything to get yourself noticed!" he growled as he bulldogged one man's head into the floor. He sprang to his feet and grabbed another man by the back of the head, ramming his face into the stone wall, creating a small crater from which the body slumped only slowly and wetly. "How the hell did they not notice the mostly naked girl in the room?" she yelled, sprinting around the circumference of the room, being chased by yellow-eyed foes. "They're mostly quantum, they don't always perceive real-state things or beings until they're interacted with!" he answered. "They weren't looking for you until you announced yourself!" "Oh, you and your weird physics shit!" she groused, her robe coming more and more undone as she ran. One of her tits was exposed, bouncing annoyingly and the nipple hardening as a cold wind from the endless holes in her walls and windows blew into the room. "Now what?" "Well, since they know you're here, you might as well use the gun," he answered as he tackled a small knot of them who were looking to cut off her avenue of escape. "At least then you can defend yourself if you're careful!" "The fuck am I supposed to do?" she shouted angrily as she clutched the ridiculous, useless gun. "Nerf them to death? Hope I shoot one foam dart down a throat and hope the bastard chokes and dies?" "Didn't you just let me inside all of your orifices?" he pointed out as he spun low, sweeping one foe's feet from under him and then taking him by the ankles to slam him off the floor. "Trust me, Virginia!" "Dammit!" she spat, steeling her nerve, hoping her resolve was harder than her nipple currently was. Taking a deep breath, she stopped running and spun, pointing the gun and pulling the plastic trigger; She yelped in astonishment as coruscating arcs of lightning crackled and lashed out from the muzzle, enveloping several foes, who wailed in glowing agony before disappearing from view. "Jesus H Fucking Tesla!" she exclaimed in amazement as she gaped down at her toy. "Virginia, language!" Santa warned. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another man rushing her, pulling the trigger and watching him explode in a shower of scintillating particles. "This shit will fuck you up!" blared the speakers. The wall splintered next to Ginny and several terrifying creatures barged in, causing her to shriek in fright, they were easily Santa's size, vaguely humanoid but covered in a greyish, segmented carapace, with insectoid heads, evil-looking mandibles and huge claws at the end of four arms. They hissed as the lunged for her. "Fuck fuck fuck!" cried out as she began running. "Fucking hate motherfucking bugs!" She fired wildly behind herself without looking, managing to strike one of the new creatures but only slowing it down. Ginny raced for the stairs, stampeding up them only to find more of the yellow-eyed humanoids waiting for her. "Santa!" she cried out in terror. "Help!" He glanced her way and grimaced at her predicament. "Aw, hell;" With a strength born of the desperation to protect one of his precious children, he surged forward, shoulder-blocking his way through a knot of assailants, springing through the air with astonishing agility, alternately using the wall and railing of the stairs to get to the upper floor, twisting and executing a flying kick that downed a foe about to attack Ginny. "Good thing I wore my enhanced parkour boots tonight, eh?" he muttered as he glared at the foes crowding to get up the stairs or down the hallway at them. "I don't even know what that means." Ginny snapped, backing up warily as the horde coming for them grew in numbers. "If that's some sort of geek speak, then we, are you getting bigger?" "I guess I am," he replied, grimly, glaring at their foes. "I don't expect what I'm saying to make sense, but the other iterations of me, my other selves, they're all coming here, merging with me to help meet the threat." "You're; consolidating?" she asked in disbelief. "That's one way to look at it," he said, his blue eyes flashing. "It's gonna make finishing the Christmas run tight if I get held up here much longer." "Oh, terribly sorry if I'm inconveniencing you, your highness." Ginny said, trying to not sound too snide. He put his body between her and her foes, backing her up against the wall. "They can't come through the wall you're up against, it's the South wall," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency. "You're safe from that angle. You can fire your gun past me or over the rail at the guys down below. Since they're trying to reach you that means they've solidified enough that they can't do crazy things like jump seven meters up to reach you, they'll have to use the stairs." "I thought they were after you." Ginny said hotly. "They were, until you announced yourself with a jug of nog," he pointed out. "Now they want to destroy you to hurt me." "Oh. Sorry." Ginny mumbled somewhat sheepishly. "You can make it up to me later!" he said as he surged forward suddenly, bulling his way through the approaching crowd, clotheslining several at once. Shouts went up and the fight was on again. Santa punched, kicked, elbowed, kneed and wrenched his way through the enemy horde. Ginny swore he was indeed bigger than he had been earlier. His already hard body physique was almost bulging with muscles now, like a Calif

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; aga

Blizzard Revelations. Two best friends, stranded in a car, find fun ways to keep warm. Based on a post by LindseyLuv. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time. "Hey, Lindsey; you all set?" A tall, shaggy-haired fella came up from the basement guest bedroom, then strode the hallway, and called up the staircase to her 2nd story bedroom, from near the front door. Lindsey felt her stomach flutter once again. Jackson was actually back from college. In his hand, he carried a suitcase of his own, and a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at her as she came down the big oak stairs, and she nodded. "Yep, Jack; just gotta grab my rucksack and lock up, and we're good to go!" She couldn't remember when the two of them had first met. Their parents had been close friends for years, before they'd even been born. So far as she cared, she'd known Jackson forever. They'd grown up together, referred to each other as cousins. The pair had been almost inseparable, all the way up to Jackson leaving for college. Worst yet, his parents had to move; when the corporation shut down the local factory, and his dad had to move in order to fill another management position, or face unemployment at age 51. Lindsey’s anxieties were mounting, until yesterday, when his flight arrived. She'd been absolutely heartbroken last August. to see him go. But he kept his promise, that he'd visit as soon as he came back for the holidays. Which sadly coincided with her own family’s reunion. Her parents insisted that she come with them, but she negotiated a compromise. Jackson would use her car to drive her, on his way to his own relative’s gathering. It just so happened the day he flew back was the day before her Great Aunt's get-together, so while her parents left yesterday morning, she hung around to pick him up at the airport. The plan was for him to stay over that night, then drive the two of them, to drop her at the reunion, seeing as it wasn't too far from his cousins' place. That way, he could drive to his kin, and see them too. Then two days later he’d pick Lindsey up from the reunion, and drive her back a few days later, if she didn't want to stay the whole week, like her folks. She'd nearly tackled him near the baggage claim, when she saw him run down the airport concourse. The pair had spent the evening laughing, eating, and reminiscing. Jackson had plenty of stories to tell her about his first semester at college, and Lindsey eagerly hung on his every word. When he’d finally gone down to the basement guest bedroom, it was well past midnight. She’d already fallen asleep while the two were watching an old favorite DVD title. He’s woke her up and directed her to go up and get some sleep. By the time they were up and about, the next day; they realized there was no way they were going to make it on time. It was getting on for noon when the snow started to fall; lightly covering the driveway as Lindsey dragged her suitcase out to Jackson's car. She knew they were only going away for a week, but she wanted to be prepared, especially with the weather as it was, so she'd filled her bags with as many jumpers, woolly hats, and thick comfy socks as she could. A decision she was starting to regret as she struggled to heave the bulging suitcase into the trunk of her little car. Finally cramming it into the space, she stepped back, taking a moment to breathe. All around her, the snow fell lazily through the air, getting heavier by the minute, and she wondered if it would ease off much, before the two of them left for her great aunt's. 'Oh well, at least it'll be a white Christmas...' she thought to herself, before turning back towards the open door of her house. She loved almost everything about Christmas, but the annual family reunion certainly wasn't on the list. She could count on one hand, how many of her relatives she actually liked, and even then she had plenty of fingers spare. In fact, the only person she really cared about visiting, had just been her house guest. But that visit was nearly over. Only the car ride remained. “Start the car, Jack." "Cool-cool, but hurry up, I don't like the look of this snow. We might end up stranded in a blizzard, if we're not careful; and you'll miss your fam." Jackson shot her a wink. "And I know how much you'd hate that." Giggling at his sarcasm, Linsey ran back into her house. She'd left her rucksack just inside the door, and she quickly grabbed it before locking up and running back down to the car. The snowfall had gotten pretty heavy by now, and she saw Jackson chuck his stuff onto the back seat before getting into the driver's side door, and revving the engine. Burying her face in her scarf to keep warm, Lindsey threw her rucksack in the back as well, before climbing into the passenger side seat next to him. Clicking her seatbelt into place, she turned and gave him a nod, and off the two went. Relaxing back into her seat, Lindsey watched the snowflakes fall as Jackson gently took the car out of the driveway and onto the almost pure white road. Rubbing her hands together in the frigid air, she reached out and cracked up the thermostat a little, before settling back again. It wasn't a particularly long drive, only a few hours, but she could already tell it was going to be a chilly one. The snow wasn't too much of a problem while they drove through the city, salt trucks leaving the roads mostly clear. As they got out into the countryside, Jackson started to take it slower, carefully navigating the narrow lanes as the snow continued to fall. Once or twice they saw the skid marks of cars that hadn't been quite as cautious, and at one point a tow truck passed them, pulling the unfortunate survivor of a nasty off-road skid. The first hour passed quickly. The thermostat did its job, and the car quickly armed up enough for Lindsey to drop her scarf and gloves. The two friends chattered away happily as the miles passed, and the music from the radio helped fill any lulls. However, as the sun began to set, the snowfall only got heavier and heavier. Lindsey could feel herself getting increasingly nervous, finding it harder and harder to see the passing countryside, and could only imagine how hard it must be for Jackson at the wheel. "Damn it;" the young man muttered under his breath, craning forward to peer out between the falling snowflakes. Lindsey could feel the stress radiating off of him, and did her best to stay calm. The last thing she wanted to do is panic him any more than he already was. Pretty soon though, they both realized they were going to have to stop. The snow was falling so heavily now that neither of them could see the road, let alone anything else. Lindsey felt her stomach drop as Jackson shook his head, pulling the car up onto the verge at the side of the road. "Sorry Linds, I can't keep going in this. If we're lucky it'll blow over soon, and we can get going again, but for the meantime, it's just not safe;" Lindsey looked up at him and saw the look of concern on his face. "You might wanna call your folks." Lindsey gave him a worries nod. She could feel her stomach tying itself up in knots as she pulled out her cell phone. They were a long way from anywhere, out there, and if they got stuck overnight it was going to get very, very cold. Dialing her parents, she anxiously waited for them to pick up. "Hey, Dad, it's me. Um, yeah, me and Jackson are on our way, but the snow is; it's coming down pretty hard, so we're just going to pull over for a bit. No need to worry about us, it's all good. We're just going to be a bit later than we thought, that's all. I'll call you when we start moving again. Yep, yep, we'll be safe, don't worry. I love you too. See you soon" The young woman hung up, hoping she didn't sound too scared on the phone. "Ok, what do we do now?" Jackson frowned as he looked down at the fuel indicator. It was getting a little low. "Well, I think we should turn the car off for now, so we don't waste gas until we can start moving again. I don't wanna think about what'd happen if we; you know. Other than that, we just gotta wait it out I guess." Shutting off the engine, Jackson settled back into his seat as snow began to pile onto the windshield. Immediately, the car began to get colder, and Lindsey shivered as she bundled herself up in her coat. Outside, she could hear the wind howling, and she looked over to her friend, hoping for comfort, but only saw herself faced with a worried expression. "It'll be fine, don't worry. We just; gotta wait. For a bit" His voice sounded shaky as he tried to reassure her. Surprisingly, it worked pretty well. For the next few hours, the two sat and talked to try and keep their minds off the weather. Occasionally, Jackson would flick on the wipers to clear the snow on the windscreen so they could check the state of the weather, but it never improved. If anything, it was still getting worse. An hour passed, then two, and it started to dawn on the pair that things probably weren't going to improve that evening. "Maybe; maybe we should settle in for the night;" Lindsey's voice trembled as she spoke, partly from the cold and partly out of fear. "I'm gonna call my dad again;" Jackson nodded, his hands inside his sleeves as she fished her phone out again. "Uh, hey Dad? It's me again. The, um, the snow's not easing off, so we're going too; yeah, yeah I know; We're going to stay here for the night, ok? And we'll drive the rest of the way tomorrow? Ok? Don't worry, we've got loads of clothes and blankets and things, we'll be fine. Yeah, yeah we'll be careful. I know. I love you too. Bye." Lindsey hung up and turned to her friend. "He's not happy, but he knows there's nothing we can do." She let out a long sigh, looking at the floor. "Sorry." "Hey, it's ok, don't; don't worry, you don't need to apologize." Looking back up through the tears, she saw Jackson smiling at her, and felt his hand on her shoulder. Despite the freezing weath