A Late Christmas Gift. Wholesome Christmas date with an elf. by Demi urging. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Finally shoving the last of his teetering friends through their front door, Rick washed his hands of the inevitable hangovers they’d earned for being lushes and resolved to ignore any stories he might hear of a night spent hovering over a bucket. Already midnight and the only reason he hadn’t been stuck driving back and forth for another hour was the fact that Sally had chosen to stay in John’s bed for the night; how much sleep they would end up with was debatable. None of the half dozen of them seemed to understand just how much blackmail material Rick would have if he were the sort to have his camera up the whole party. Another Christmas passed as the clock ticked into the next day and it seemed he’d be single again into the new year. He thought he would have gotten over it by age thirty, but the pity date from last year awakened a desire his teenage self would call him a moron for having. The same woman had a boyfriend this year, so Rick couldn’t ask again even if his pride would allow it, and he would instead get plenty of sleep while everyone else counted down. It hadn’t been a nice date, either; she stayed for a single kiss at midnight and left without another word. At least the traffic on the way home wasn’t horrible. Those who drank themselves into a stupor seemed to have made their way home without too many flashing lights, or fallen where they still lay. The concept of sleeping face-down in someone else’s carpet, splitting headache on the way, was never appealing to Rick, so his friends instead put him in the position of cab driver/babysitter on the evenings they couldn’t be bothered to take care of themselves. He grit his teeth and drove with his nice, warm bed in mind; working himself up to a froth never helped anything. This was the way he knew it would go well in advance. The only sign of the holidays in his life was the box of fudge sitting on his counter, sold in a box mimicking wrapping paper which hadn’t seemed so pathetic at the time. He wouldn’t even eat it that day. Sleep had to come first, then he had a whole day off in the morning, since the boss knew most of the team would be useless if he had them come in that week. Which meant Rick could get one over on all of them by working his ass off at home, leading into a new year where he didn’t have to break his back with paperwork for a good week or so. Probably more, as the constant interruptions of the office would be safely away and he could simply focus on the job at hand. Climbing the stairs rather than risk meeting lovers in the elevator like the year before, he smelled something delectable. He thought one of his neighbors must have made actual food instead of subsisting on beer and crackers like his friends had. Maybe he would eat some of that fudge after all, since a glass of water and a handful of crackers in the face of a home-cooked meal seemed inadequate. It had to be Miss Thompson, as the woman living on the other side would at best be shoving instant noodles down her gullet. Rick thought that the old gal had gone off to the country for the day to visit with her kids, but the smell of ham didn’t lie and it was absolutely coming from their floor, getting stronger as he approached his own apartment. Taking a final sniff of the good life and tempering his expectations, Rick turned, opened his front door, and was smacked in the face with a bouquet of aromas that sent his mind back to Christmas dinner with mom and dad. Rick shut the door. Wrong apartment, he thought. But when he checked the address, expecting to be on the wrong floor somehow, he was met with the very same number he saw every day. He considered calling the cops, but wanted to know the actual situation before making that decision. So, flicked-open pocket knife in hand, he pushed the door open again. “Aren’t you coming in?” A slender, bright-eyed young woman in an apron and a horribly ugly holiday sweater three sizes too large, only bare leg showing underneath its hem, was standing in the entryway. She giggled, fluffy blonde locks bouncing around peaked ears, and took Rick by the hand, gently tugging him inside. “Come on, silly, it’s nice and warm. I have a fire going that’s the perfect size for snuggling and supper just came out of the oven.” Ah, so a crazy person broke in. At least they… “Fire!?” Rick pulled himself out of her grasp and ran inside, desperately trying to remember where he kept the extinguisher. But he stopped when he saw what she really meant: his television was showing a video of a fireplace and putting out the smooth jazz version of a Christmas carol while a heater stationed below it provided heat along with what looked like a genuine bearskin rug. Tittering followed as the girl joined him. “I am sorry I couldn’t have a real one tonight, but there was no fireplace so this is the best I could do. Now, let’s get you fed while it’s nice and piping hot and then we can open presents.” A glance around the room revealed a small pine tree, dazzling with ornaments and laden with expertly-wrapped boxes underneath. Rick’s dining room table held more food than it ever had before and glimmered with candlelight that danced gleefully as the girl dimmed the lights and retrieved the last item from the oven, coming around with a ceramic dish of bubbling, hot food to finish off the spread. She pulled a chair out for him to sit, pouting when he declined. “What is this and who are you?” Rick discreetly tucked his knife away, it wouldn’t be difficult to throw a slight thing like her out without it. She hung up her apron in the kitchen and grinned back at him. “Christmas dinner for my sweetie, of course. I have green bean casserole, honey-baked ham, gratin potatoes, and two kinds of pie. I know you don’t like sweet potatoes, so those are out. Oh, and a surprise dessert too, for later. It’ll start getting cold soon, so why don’t I make you a plate? Though I suppose we’ll have plenty of leftovers to get fat on.” While she scooped things up, Rick considered his plan of action. The way she bounced to a beat, humming along with the television, the points of her ears held the rhythm, and he wondered how they were held on so well. Spirit gum? Rick reached out and tugged on one of the girl’s ears. She yelped, tightening up so as not to drop the plate, and asked him with a tremble in her voice, “Sweetie, please don’t.” When he released her, she set his place at the table and did the same for herself. He went with her for the moment and took his seat. “Merry Christmas, my sweet one. While you were away, Santa came along and dropped off a bunch of presents for you. I thought you would like the surprise and we could eat first before talking, but I guess I crossed a line, haven’t I?” She quietly poked at a pile of green bean casserole, watching his fork with great interest. It seemed important to her, and what chance was there that the food wasn’t edible, so Rick put a bite of ham in his mouth, the girl brightening up as he started to eat. Not only was it not inedible, it had to be one of the most delicious things he’d had the pleasure to shove in his face. Mom’s cooking, with its nostalgic advantage was still blown out of the water, and Rick felt sorry that he would never get to taste this for the first time again. With that, he tried to savor what was left, but too soon it was all gone and the girl was carrying out a plate of apple and chocolate pie with ice cream on the side. This too didn’t last and something about her constant giggling as he enjoyed her food warmed him inside in a way he couldn’t very well describe. It was a wonder he wasn’t crying by the end. As he finished the last bite of chocolate pie, she wrapped herself around his neck from behind, softness and warmth pressing into his back and fluffy, blonde hair tickling his cheek. “Messy boy~” she said, and leaned forward to smooch a crumb off his cheek. Before Rick could object, as little as he was inclined to, she had already slipped away to put dishes in the sink and his back felt uncomfortably cold with her absence. “That was pretty good… amazing actually.” Rick said, “But seriously, who are you? Did one of my friends hire you or something?” He dismissed the idea. “No, my mother? She’s one of the only people with a key to my place. Unless it was the landlady?” The girl stretched in the warm air with a luxurious moan escaping peachy lips, the neck of her overlarge sweater spilling over a shoulder, exposing so much wan skin underneath that it was impossible for her to be wearing anything underneath. She curtsied, at least there were shorts underneath the sweater. “I’m an elf!” she proclaimed, “Didn’t you hear me? Santa came by because you were such a good boy and we set all this up for you. Well, not to toot my own horn, but I set it up, Santa brought presents. I’m Sugarbell, and I’m here to make your Christmas wish come true!” She’d taken a pose as if there should be celebratory confetti shooting out and stood there in awkward silence. Rick sighed, so it was a crazy chick after all. “Okay, miss elf, why don’t you get out of here before I have to call the police. How did you get in here anyway?” “Magic?” Sugarbell looked crestfallen, her ears drooping. “And lockpicks… I mean, that’s what elf magic typically is; I’ve had decades to practice after all. It was actually good luck that your neighbor was on vacation because I didn’t expect you wouldn’t have a baking dish for the casserole and I didn’t want to overload the sleigh.” “You’re not giving me a good argument not to call the police. Can you at least take off the fake ears so we can really talk about this?” “Fake? Sweetie, I said I was an elf after all. Is that what the problem is? In that case, I do have something that could help with that.” She skipped over to a green sack by the door and plucked out a wrinkled, yellowed piece of paper. “Ahem, ‘Dear Santa, I’ve been a good boy all year if you don’t count that stuff that my sister says and all I really want is a girlfriend.’ and then there’s a colored pencil drawing of a girl with black pigtails who I think is your crush. ‘It’s okay if I don’t get one, I know that’s asking for a lot, but it doesn’t look like mom and Dave are going to be able to give out lots of toys this year, so don’t worry about it if you can’t. Merry Christmas. BTW I’m making snickerdoodles this year, so make sure you grab your share before Dave can steal them all again.’ and there’s your signature.” She handed the letter over for inspection. It was definitely his handwriting, his drawing skills from almost two decades ago… “So you were sent by my mother. You could have just said that and we’d have been fine. Sorry, she’s pushy but I know she means well… should have told me I’d have company and I would have skipped that party. Anyway, what’s your actual name?” “Sugarbell. And I wasn’t sent by her, Santa brought me. Here, look.” She tugged on her ear, leaning up so Rick could look closely. It was either real or the seam of the rubber was so well hidden that it might as well be. “I suppose this would be a little hard to believe for an adult. Sorry, I haven’t actually spoken with a human for a few years.” Rick shook his head. “Your makeup’s good, I’ll give you that.” “Seems you still don’t believe me, huh? Then here.” She handed over a bundle of lockpicks taken out from who knew where and strolled outside with an impish grin, saying as she closed the door, “Now lock it and see if I can’t magic my way inside.” He wasn’t going to give her an easy time of it, whatever her plan was, and turned the lock, the deadbolt, and put up the chain. Even if she had another set of picks hidden someplace, it wouldn’t help against all of that. Then he watched, dumbfounded, as the chain wiggled out of its place, the deadbolt turned on its own, and the knob turned. Sugarbell pushed the door open, threw herself against Rick and locked her fingers behind his back, though he didn’t push her away like she must have expected. By its own weight, the door closed and left the two alone in the dimness of the entry hall. “See?” she said, nuzzling her chin into his chest, “I didn’t even need the picks in the first place because this building doesn’t have very good locks. I’ll speak with the building manager soon about getting one that’s more secure. Or maybe commission one from the workshop.” “So that crazies don’t break in while I’m out?” Rick angled his hips so the elf wouldn’t notice a certain reflex to her melding to his shape. She was incredibly soft in his arms, just short of purring, the smell of peppermint coming off as she rubbed against him. Sugarbell stared up at him, her wide, green eyes shining with reflected candlelight. “But I’m not a crazy. I…” The oven timer cut her off and she clicked her tongue in disappointment, reluctantly disengaging the hug to go deal with dessert. When Rick came around the corner, she had opened the oven door and seemed content with the contents. She left it open for things to cool and went to the bearskin rug in front of the television, so big for the room that it bunched up against the walls in that corner, took a seat and patted the place beside her for him to take. Convinced enough by the magic show at the door, Rick sat next to her in front of the fake fire. She rested her head against his shoulder and twined her fingers in his with no resistance. “Umm…” he said, “You got me, I guess, but what is all this?” “It’s a little embarrassing,” she said, “You see, back when we got that letter, we were using a new kind of mail bag and, as we would soon find out, letters would sometimes get caught in the seams. And the elf in charge of distributing letters wasn’t especially conscientious. Rather than going through the trouble of digging out the trapped ones as he knew there would be, they instead ended up in a pile in the corner of the sorting room. It wouldn’t have been that much of a problem, aside from that one elf’s termination we would have just sorted through when we found the pile and spread out what good will we could. But then we arrived at your letter.” “I mean, I was a dumb kid. It’s not something I would ask for these days.” Sugarbell airily giggled, her cheek burned against his arm. “Sweetie, that wasn’t the problem. We get so many requests for things like that; puppies, little brothers or sisters, a bunch-a edgy ones for weapons. Usually, we’d plan on whatever we could. Are the parents getting a pet? Is someone pregnant or likely to be? If not, a stuffed animal or baby doll would do the trick, and plastic weapons are wholesome enough as it is. The trouble came in an unfortunate fact: you were in the top hundred of the nice list that year.” “First of all, I don’t believe you, but why would it be an issue?” “Top hundred and a random assortment on top of that get their wish, period. According to our records, you didn’t submit one… had we known what you wanted, we couldn’t very well kidnap someone and brainwash them, but we absolutely could have an elf facilitate a meet cute and stick around to help out a burgeoning romance. Of course, we didn’t find your letter in the pile until this year. It wouldn’t do for us to get off with as light as a card and a toy anymore, so here I am.” Sugarbell hugged his arm tightly to her chest and kissed his cheek. “I’m your present this year. Sorry it took so long for your wish to come true.” Rick reeled from the stream of revelations, not the least of which being that Santa was a real guy. And here was an eager, adorable, blonde thing clinging to him, unwittingly giving him quite the show as her sweater’s wide neck dipped down with her promised land hiding behind a tantalizing, flickering shadow. He averted his eyes, hoping she couldn’t feel his heart going crazy through his palm, but her puckish smile said that she knew very well the effect her supple, inviting cuddliness was having. He paused. “So Santa just gave me one of his elfs? What, did you draw the short stick?” “We’re not slaves, you know. It’s a career.” Sugarbell sidled into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. There was no way she couldn’t feel the toy soldier poking her thighs from below. “Upon discovery of your letter, several of us thought that we could still make your wish come true, so we put out a call for volunteers. I won.” Before he could respond, she leaned into him, rocking him onto his back while she straddled; her warm, green eyes glittering in the false firelight on the tv as she came in for a transient peck on the lips. Then she teased him by hopping up and padding over to the kitchen. From where he lay, Rick watched her pull a tray from the oven and came back to the fire to kneel beside him. He asked, “People volunteered to be with me?” It was hard to imagine even two women fighting over him. Sugarbell frowned like she knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later and could no longer be postponed. “Fifty girls and ten guys entered the pool. We played rock paper scissors for the position and I won the tournament. Of course… if you don’t want me, I’m sure we can drop someone else off for you; any one of them would love to take my place.” “I just can’t believe it.” Rick sat up and drew her into his arms, sitting her on one leg so the soldier couldn’t get in the way. It seemed that she prepared to be rejected at this point, and he’d said so much to make her think he would, threatened to have her removed by the authorities after all. “It’s a lot to take in, you know? How the heck was I in the top hundred? I don’t remember doing anything especially great. Why not give my place to one of those prodigies out saving the rainforest or whatever?” She’d relaxed in his arms, nestled into the crook of his shoulder and curled in her slender legs. “We take lots of factors into consideration. Most of the ones you’re talking about are going to be rewarded in their own way, or they’re doing what good they do because it fulfills what their parents want from them, and some of them just want attention. Even now, you don’t believe that you deserve something nice, so you tried to push me away.” “And I thought you were a home invader.” “Nuh-uh.” She wiggled herself up until her lips touched his earlobe and whispered, “It’s only home invasion when the owner doesn’t want you there. Who laid out milk and cookies? Wasn’t that you?” Her nuzzling and shimmying had tugged the overlarge neck of her sweater so far down across one shoulder that she was in danger of revealing herself from just the swell of her breast with every breath, not that it seemed she would mind. Sugarbell wagged her pert butt in his lap, her fingers wandered underneath his sweatshirt and sweetly tugged at the shirt underneath when she found it was tucked in. The same breath which raised her chest came to him as a cool breeze on his neck. She said, “Tell me, what’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do, that you couldn’t without a girlfriend?” One corner of his undershirt came free from his jeans. It was too fast, Rick hugged her tighter, trapping her hands to squirm uselessly against his belly. He grabbed her sweater and pulled the neck back off her shoulder, saving her from the risk of exposure. Giggling wildly, she plunged her hands under his sweatshirt and tickled his armpits without mercy until it was just too much to bear and Rick fell, holding in forced laughter, onto his back. But it didn’t end, Sugarbell seized the moment of weakness and took hold of the sweatshirt’s hem, pulling the whole thing up above his head in a smooth motion and trapping his arms in a cottony prison. She laid herself over his chest and at last succeeded in untucking his shirt. His bulge rested against the pleasant warmth of her thigh, rubbed against it with her subtle motions. Eagerness burned in her rosy cheeks. Her downy, golden hair fell around their faces, dividing them from the world, but a few deep breaths later, her giggling petered out and she rolled off, spending the last of her laughter beside him on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, we haven’t even eaten dessert yet.” she said breathlessly, jumping up and scurrying back to the kitchen. Rick discarded his sweatshirt; it was already getting too warm for him. Watching on as Sugarbell’s perky rear bounced away did nothing for his erection, begging him as it was to just get on with it already. It didn’t have long to calm down before she returned with a plate of tiny, pink cookies. “No, don’t get up,” she said as she set the plate down, “Go ahead and try one, I’ll pick a present for each of us.” The first bite exploded with crispy flakiness and a sophisticated undertone of strawberry. Rick snuck a second cookie before Sugarbell had time to return with a couple gifts. “These are incredible!” he blurted through a cheekful of crumbs. She took one for herself and examined it between pinched fingers. “I wish I had more time to make them. It’s the little touches that make the difference, but I wasn’t able to let the egg whites get to room temperature before I beat them. And I know they say you can use a hand mixer to get the same results, but I think merengue needs the personal touch of a handheld whisk, even if it takes longer.” “What are you talking about? They’re delicious.” Sugarbell sat next to him and kissed his cheek, sliding a present into his lap to open. “They’re called sugarbells. My mom’s version is so much better than mine.” Rick looked at the gift tag, but the sender’s name was in Cyrillic so it was hopeless to try reading it. “Where did all these come from anyway?” “Let’s see… that one’s from the workshop, most of them are. The sender is an elf named Tart. Technically it’s actually Tort, but that’s what he prefers.” “Are all your names foods?” Rick asked, pulling at the ribbon’s knot to avoid ripping the exquisite wrapping job. “Well, you have to understand that the same clan has been working with master Clause for centuries, so there’s an element of tradition. Ever since we split off from the Daoine Sidhe, and I’m glad we did. Better to be named snow-this or sugar-that than leaf-this and leaf-that, don’t you think?” He nodded, getting a fingernail under the last bit of tape and sliding the box out from the wrapping. Inside, there was a whistle shaped exactly like a hotdog. “Umm, I guess that’s a cool novelty.” Sugarbell plucked the whistle from his hand and gave it a brief toot before setting it aside. “It’s a weenie whistle, get it?” “Nope.” She shrugged and said, “I suppose that is a pretty old reference at this point, oh well.” Rather than carefully preserve the beauty of the wrapping on her gift, Sugarbell plunged her fingertip under a flap and ripped the paper off in a single ragged chunk. She tipped the lid up to see inside, yelped, and put the package out of reach. “What was it?” Rick asked. The box was on her other side and she leaned in the way of his arm when he started reaching around to get at it. “Well, it was, umm,” she stammered, eyes darting back and forth until she realized there wasn’t a way out of telling him the truth. “It’s something of a gift to both of us… from the workshop’s confectioner.” She waved him close and whispered with a warm breath against his ear, “Edible underwear.” Before he could respond with his own bewilderment, Sugarbell crawled away to fetch another pair of presents from the pile. She wouldn’t look him in the eye when she thrust the next one into his hands. Did she think she hadn’t already crossed the line from adorable into suggestive, or was it just too much to be hit smack in the face with the implications? This self-conscious side of her was adorable in its own way too. He decided to prod her. “Alright,” he said, “New rule: no hiding anything, and presents have to be tried out right away. Okay?” Sugarbell nodded solemnly and began drawing the hem of her sweater up, laying bare her tight, smooth belly, and was saved at the last moment when it crested her ribs and Rick caught her wrist. His bluff overwhelmingly called, Rick let her off easy and kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I just meant we should show off what we got. No need to strip right here and now.” To break the tension, he tore open the little box she’d given him, no time to worry about the packaging, and out came what looked like earrings with little jingle bells on. “Well that’s cute, but I don’t have pierced ears. Maybe I can get them put on a clip or something.” He wouldn’t, jingle bell earrings were a step too far into avant-garde fashion. But Sugarbell took these too and said quietly, “They aren’t earrings…” She held them up to her chest, pinned against each hidden nipple by a fingertip, and wiggled a little to make the dangling bells tinkle, then deposited them in the pile. They didn’t expound on the bells’ actual use as she tore open her next gift and pulled out a filmy, red babydoll that was also tossed in the pile. “So,” Rick said, uneasy in his seat, “Are there going to be any of these that aren’t… romantic?” At least Sugarbell looked ruffled too, swaying on her knees after pulling out another couple gifts. “Most of these are from elfs who wanted to be with you tonight instead of me.” She stuffed a cookie in her face rather than continue explaining. They opened the next wave of gifts in one fell swoop of torn paper and ribbon to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment. Out came a matching set of horrendously ugly sweaters in their respective sizes and a book titled ‘guide to faeries’ which Sugarbell suspiciously slid underneath the pile without mentioning in any way. Rick said, “Well, at least we haven’t found any dildos…” There was a pregnant pause as Sugarbell’s eyes flicked toward a long, slim present leaned up against the wall. A whole pile remained under the tree and the growing heap of wrapping paper would start getting in the way soon enough, so Rick got up and retrieved a trash bag from the kitchen, noticing as he shoveled paper inside that the long package was gone. Its box was in the heap, and an interestingly-shaped lump had appeared underneath the sweaters. Sugarbell had clearly made an executive decision on the matter and he wasn’t about to question her judgement. Another present for him: a rather nice shaving kit which was, she said, a twin to the one given to Santa that year by the blacksmithing department at the north pole. One more for her: a plush octopus doll with pose-able tentacles. They continued until there were only two boxes left and their pile hadn’t added anything more touchy than the lump that neither of them were willing to discuss right then. Sugarbell reverently set each box before them and for the first time went to the trouble of finding an edge to peel back instead of ripping the thing to shreds in a festive feeding frenzy. “These two,” she said, “Are from Santa himself.” Once the paper was free, she folded each length into little squares and added them to the pile of presents as if they were themselves as valuable as anything else there. In the first box, addressed to Rick, there was a wooden doll in the shape of a tiny, flaxen-haired elf complete with a red dress and curly-toed shoes festooned with actual, minuscule bells. The other package, Sugarbell’s, opened to reveal a group photo with dozens of short people trying to get their heads in frame all at once, almost crowding out the wizened man in the center. She held it close to her chest for a long moment and set it aside. “Good thing that’s the last of them, garbage bag is near to bursting.” Rick said. “That wasn’t the last one.” She tugged on his shirt to keep him in place before he could retreat to take out the trash. “What do you mean, did I miss one under the tree?” Sugarbell crawled behind him and when he tried to look, gently turned his face away. Moments later, the muffled sound of wool dropping on the carpet came amid the atmospheric caroling and the crackle of fire. Pale arms enveloped his neck and naked softness pressed against his nape. “You still have one more present to unwrap.” she whispered. He took her hands in his and pushed down his feelings; this was too good to be true. “It’s okay, I understand everything now. I had a lot of fun tonight and I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t have to go that far for someone like me.” She slid down his back like dripping cream and he felt her lips lay a line of pecks up from his neck to his ear. “There’s such a thing as being too nice, you know. A girl might get her feelings hurt like that.” Her tongue ran the length of his earlobe and she nibbled at it as a penalty. “I’m not wearing a bra, can’t you feel that?” She rubbed herself against him to ensure he would feel her firm nipples tickling across his back. “Does it feel like I’m forcing myself? Or do I seem like the kind of girl who would act this way for just anyone? We found that letter six months ago… I’ve been watching you, falling in love with you, for so long.” “There’s no way…” “No way someone like me could fall for someone like you?” Sugarbell bit his neck. “But I know who brews the new pot of coffee when he doesn’t even drink it. I know who picks up random garbage before the custodians can get to it, who stays late on his days off because the whole team shouldn’t have to. It’s hard to think of examples since there are so many of them. I’m sorry that I can only think of little things now, but the little things add up, shouldn’t they? If only the really big things counted toward being good, there would be so few good people, wouldn’t there?” “I mean, as long as you’re okay with it.” There was some rustling behind his back as Sugarbell wriggled and reached back, producing her little, denim shorts so he could see and dropping them. The girl hugging herself so tightly to his back was wearing nothing but panties and moaned into his ear, “Carry me to the bed, please?” Libido won out; Rick turned and scooped her up to a giddy squeal, blessed with a handful of bouncy ass, and hurriedly carried her to the his room to set her down in bed. She’d done her magic in there as well, ceiling hung with red and gold garlands, mistletoe above each doorway. The bedspread was made with a quilted comforter patterned with reindeer frolicking across the tundra. It was obvious that she wanted to end up in there from the start. Sugarbell pulled his head down for a kiss, prodding between his lips with the tip of her tongue, eagerly melding herself to his body, mingling her tongue with his. They came apart with a heavy breath, forgetting how long they had been under. She covertly undid the buckle of his belt and tugged his pants down into a heap at his feet, then delved underneath his shirt again, spread her delicate fingers across his chest, and pressed herself into him as he drew it over his head. Abruptly, she tweaked his nipples and retreated before he could retaliate, plopping herself on his bedspread and, calming herself a pinch, spread her knees apart. The one article of clothing between them was a pair of red, lacy panties with a cotton sprig of mistletoe hung by a little bow. As Rick gawked at the dainty outline, Sugarbell squirmed, her own gaze flitting to and from his growing erection, but kept her legs open. “It’s mistletoe…” she said quietly. “Um, yeah.” “You know what that means, don’t you?” In answer, Rick went down to his knees and kissed her thigh. Her fingers twined in his hair and an unrestricted murmur of pleasure came from above, encouraging him to advance toward her heat, laying kisses all the way up her creamy thigh until he was inches away from her warm aroma. The fabric was in the way, but he could feel her silkiness on his lips, against his tongue. Her fingers left their comfortable place in his hair to pull on the knots at her hips, let her panties fall away and revealed bare, pink skin. Rick wasted no time, pushed forward to kiss her again, running his tongue along her lips, pausing to pin in his mind the spots where she moaned or her leg twitched against his head. Already he could feel wetness on his tongue, heat spreading throughout her body. A chorus of gasps and moans fell from above and quick peeks down below showed that Sugarbell’s toes were curling. Pride swelled in his chest as he smooched and licked her most sensitive spots. “Okay, stop~” Sugarbell pushed his head away and sighed, falling back for a second before rolling backwards onto her knees on the bed. “C'mere,” she said, patting the space beside her, “Lie down right here.” He obeyed and had a shock when she took a place between his legs and nuzzled his hard dick against a burning cheek. He would have said something, but a lingering lick up his shaft to the tip stole his words with a moan. Delicate fingers wrapped around it and gently stroked as she nestled against his thigh and lapped at his balls, merrily humming as she took pleasure in the situation. Popping a testicle in her mouth and swirling it around with her tongue, Sugarbell’s pert ass swayed in the air, her other hand wandering up her leg so she could rub herself against her palm. Rick could only reach down to pet her head as she suckled. Soon enough, her fingers were wet with his emissions and she stopped licking his nuts to push his dick between her lips. Sugarbell slowly ran her tongue around the rim of his glans, so sensitive that Rick almost lost himself in the pleasure, but he relished every moment of those bright, green eyes bobbing down on him. She took him deeper into her mouth, rubbing the tip of his cock against the inside, bulging her rosy cheek like a chipmunk. Her hips bucked against her hand and mewls of pleasure escaped from her glistening lips, bringing Rick to the just before the point of no return where his whole body clenched to keep the amazing feeling from ending. And she flopped limp between his legs, tenderly lapping at his balls as his cock twitched for release in her hand. “Come on, sweetie pie,” she said, “Isn’t there somewhere else you’d like to do that?” Rick sat up and pulled her into his lap where her soft slit straddled his throbbing erection. “Do you have any protection?” he asked. Sugarbell bent her head into his chest and sputtered laughter. “Like I said, there’s such a thing as being too nice.” She guided the tip of his cock to her entrance and started putting weight on it, softly grunting with the effort of fitting him inside, squealed when it pushed in the first inch. “Does it hurt?” “Shut up.” she moaned, hugging herself close so he couldn’t see the pain in her eyes and insist they stop. “I just need to get used to it, okay?” Over the next minute her warm tightness enveloped his cock inch by inch until Sugarbell’s butt rested comfortably in his lap and she breathed a sigh of relief. Rick turned up her chin for a kiss, hoping their intertwined tongues would distract from the pain, stroking her creamy, pale skin with special attention paid to her ticklish spots, taking a breast in hand and fiddling with a nipple like a hard pebble. Her sighs of pleasure washed against his chest and she closed her eyes to enjoy each touch to its fullest, savor the feeling of fullness in her loins. She snaked her arms around him, linking her fingers behind his back, and began swirling her hips, gently moving his cock inside her, sliding her bouncy ass across his thighs. He felt like he could burst at any minute, couldn’t resist taking a handful of ass, causing a refreshing whimper against his chest as he squeezed. Rick buried his face in her fluffy, golden hair to keep his senses, taking in the invigorating scent of peppermint and sweat. Little tickles made moaned giggles fall on his ears and Sugarbell slowly became more comfortable with his size, increasing her motion’s intensity until she was almost thrusting against his last inch. Her bright, green eyes appeared again as Rick surprised Sugarbell by flipping her onto her back. He kept the last pace she was comfortable with, guided by her tiny, urging moans to start going faster and deeper. She splayed her arms above her head and gripped the pillow she found there, handing over control to him with her legs wrapped around his waist. Free to go wild, Rick slowly pulled out and pushed himself back in to the hilt, leering at the way Sugarbell squirmed underneath, her breast rippling with sharp breaths. Then again, a bit faster, and again until he was properly thrusting, and he joined the chorus of moans. Sugarbell pulled his head down into a kiss and shakily whispered, “Harder” He grabbed her waist, ramming himself inside her pussy as she wriggled in ecstasy, bright eyes rolled back and she bit his shoulder in anticipation of the finale. It came on like a wave, forcing him as deep as he could go, balls slapping against wet ass cheeks as he flooded her tight pussy and she tightened in gratification, overwhelmed by sensation as Rick pounded inside her. When the moment of passion had passed, Rick laid at her side as she relaxed into quiet contentment. But it didn’t last long before she crawled atop him, laying her head on his chest humming a festive tune. “That was amazing.” he said, absentmindedly stroking her hair. Sugarbell kissed his chest. “Lots better than your hand, isn’t it? Heh, you’re pretty big. Human girls don’t know what they’re missing out on.” Her fingertips traced the way down between his legs, wrapped around his shrinking dick and said, “Good job, mister, wanna take me for another spin?” Rick laughed and she rubbed herself against his chest as she joined in, bright eyes merrily twinkling. “Can’t fault a girl for trying, can you? It is two in the morning I suppose. Christmas night’s almost over and done.” She tugged up the blanket they’d displaced and snuggled herself against him, pointy ear tickling his neck, and hummed a lullaby as the day’s exhaustion made sleep less and less voluntary. The morning sun muddled through snow-filled clouds to gently wake Rick. He’d slept clean through the usual time, had a transient shock before remembering the office would be closed for the week. And he was alone. Last night had to have happened. Peppermint lingered in the air and a hickey stung on his neck, but she wasn’t there. Of course, he thought, it was a monkey’s paw. She’d said she was a Christmas present, and the day had passed… He forced himself out of bed and dressed, then headed for the kitchen. Where a woman in a red turtleneck and costume antlers was using the stove. “Morning, sleepy-head~” Sugarbell cooed, “I’m almost done with brunch so go ahead and take a seat.” “You’re still here.” “Of course I am, why? Oh, I will need to go out for a while after the dishwasher finishes to return what I borrowed from your neighbors, but other than that there’s nowhere I need to be.” “I thought I was only going to get the one night.” Sugarbell turned off the stove and set the table with leftover ham omelets and freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. “That’s not a girlfriend, that’s a one-night stand.” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, “And we still have to continue where we left off after all.” by Demi urging for Literotica