Plump Packages (Trans, Holiday)
It’s Christmas Eve, a woman is alone for the holidays. All she really wants for Christmas is a nice, warm lady to share her bed with. Mr Claus hasn’t been performing his husbandly duties as of late, leaving Mrs Claus wanting some attention. Mrs. Claus somehow finds out about the woman and decides to give them both what they want. Turns out the Mrs is a very dominant lover.
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She had seen the look upon Nicholas’ face before. The furrowed brow as his eyes searched upon parchment. The pipe in his lip didn’t smolder-he’d long since given it up. Yet it stayed clenched all the same as a thick finger trawled through the names. Every so often Nicholas would reach for a quill, and strike one out. Just as he’d done time after time-for so long a stretch that even memory failed to grasp it.
And so sat Sarah, her mug of coco all she had to warm herself. She pursed her lips and breathed across the rim of the mug. The dark surface eddied and rippled, and she watched it as Nicholas went on scratching. She thought, as she often had, of asking him to take a break. Then she glanced at the calender and knew better. A week away meant keeping conversation to a minimum. But there came time she couldn’t. All day she had sat here, downing cup after cup as Nicholas scrawled through the list.
He’s already checked it twice, she thought. What use is a third?!
She took a deep breath, and turned towards her husband. Quil in his hand and pipe wavering-she almost smiled. She could just make out the features all seemed to give him on those cards. The rosey cheeks, the child-like smile full of wonder. But then came the crows feet, the pinches of age. The small sigh he gave as he lifted his spectacles, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
It was then she cleared her throat.
“Nicholas? Love, get some coco at least. Please?” she cooed.
Nicholas turned to her. His ashen, worried face at last tinged as he laid the list down. He gave a chuckle, one that still managed to fill her heart with warmth. He pulled the pipe from his lips, and laid it upon the table with a sigh.
“Well, I do suppose a small break wouldn’t hurt,” he said.
Sarah smiled, and rose from her rocking chair. It creaked and swung, and finally came to rest as she approached the stove. The pot of coco sat upon a burner, still warm from the morning. She heard Nicholas sigh as she filled a mug. It held his likeness-one of thousands left by children the world over. She grinned as she lifted it and brought it over to him. Nicholas glanced up, his smile widening as he gripped it tenderly.
“Ho, look at that old sod! Why on earth would anyone craft a cup of a face so old?” he said. She heard the joke thousands of times before. And just as every other time, she bent and kissed Nicholas tenderly on the cheek.
“I happen to think he’s very handsome actually,” she said. She took her seat in the rocking chair again as Nicholas drank deep. He gave a deep sigh, and closed his eyes for a long moment. It was the most rest he’d had in months. Sarah leaned to the side, and reached for her knitting. The needles danced in her hand as her husband seemed to melt into the folds of the cushions. She watched him for a moment, and dared to clear her throat again.
“Is everything in order?” she said.
Nicholas opened an eye heavy with exhaustion and gave a nod.
“Oh, of course. Has been for months. But-well, you know,” he said. The mug met his lips again, and Sarah giggled.
“You’ve yet to forget a single one,” she said. Sarah arched her brow, and gave a shrug. “And since you’ve that boy helping you now-”
“Don’t,” said Nicholas, his tone a shade of dour seriousness. “Don’t say his name. Because the moment you do-”
“Nicholas, come now,” said Sarah. Her needles paused as she looked over at him. “Superstitious at your age? At your status? What fear do you have of him? And he’s so polite!”
The tip of her husbands reddened nose twitched. He sat the mug down, and took a deep breath. “I know, I know dear. But he just-well, you know how he got his talents, Don’t you? And all that work with-with the-”
“Oh, what of it? You certainly are no stranger to demons yourself, mister. It’s not as though people stopped believing in Krampus. You know-neither of you are that different. Why, I’d say Jack is at least honest about the kind of man he is,” she said with a smirk.
“SARAH!” cried Nicholas-not with a yell, but with a boom that most certainly didn’t befit Father Christmas. “I told you not to-”
But no sooner had the words left the lips of Saint Nick, there came a pound at the door. Slow it was, but loud enough to reverberate the thick wood within it’s frame. Far too loud for an elf-and as the door still stood, it couldn’t have been Krampus. The couple sat there, the fire crackling as they stared upon the wood.
“I-I told you not to speak his name. Never call him until he’s needed. I’ve told you, Sarah!” said Nicholas, his jowls shivering as he rose. His footfalls were careful and quiet, a kind reserved only for his duties. He approached the door, and smoothed his hands over his massive red coat. He took a deep breath, and clasped the handle. It pulled back fast and slipped from his grip. Wind howled from outside with such force it almost put the fire out. A moment later, the wind died. The flames sprang back-and the shadow upon the door spoke.
“Well. Happy holidays old one. Care to invite me in?” came a rasping, clawing tone.
“I most certainly will not-” Nicholas started, only for Sarah to guffaw. She placed her knitting to the side and rose, beckoning with her hand.
“Oh Nicholas, how dare you! He’s going to freeze out there. Jack dear, come on in. Can I get you a cup?” she said. She had already busied herself back at the burner-only to hear the cabin door slam behind her. She jumped, and turned back to face the pair.
Nicholas stood by the door, his arms crossed. He stared without a word over towards the table where the list lay. Sarah’s eyes followed-and when they stopped, she felt a shiver dance across her spine that even the Pole’s couldn’t bring. She always felt that, even with the years since the warlock had come into their service.
He stood, dark tattered coat about him with Nicholas’s pipe in hand. A streak of grey ran at his temple. One that hadn’t been there before-or had it? He lifted the pipe to his lips, peering at it from tired eyes. He lifted his free hand-a pale, boney and scarred thing that flitted from the arms of his coat-and snapped his fingers. The blue flames that danced from the tips ignited the pipe. The boy, one only in comparison to Nicholas and herself, took a long drag. Smoke plummed from his nose as he regarded the list, the heady aroma of tobacco filling the hut quickly.
“You’ve been a busy one, haven’t you Nick?”
“ ‘Tis the season,” said Nicholas behind gritted teeth.
“Funny. I don’t see my name here. Have I been so bad, old one?” came the rasping tone. He turned to Nicholas, and gave a wide grin.
“No more than usual,” grunted Nicholas.
Jack gave a laugh, and turned towards Sarah. “Good to see you again, Lady Sarah. Kept him straight and narrow for me?”
The chill-which had gripped her so hard before-gave way to a pleasurable warmth. It rippled from between her thighs up to her cheeks. She would never dare tell Nicholas-but Sarah loved when Jack smiled at her.
“Oh, the best I can!” she said with a giggle. She turned back to the stove, and reached above to the cupboards. Her hand pushed the santa-faced mugs aside as she reached towards the back.
“The usual, Jack?”
“We give guests no less. Isn’t that right, Wotan?” said Jack.
Sarah tried to hold back her smirk as her husband grunted.
“You are a guest I suppose,” said Nicholas. “Though of invitation, I can’t recall myself giving,”
Sarah pulled the drinking horn from the back of the cupboard. It’s dark sheen glinted, and she sat it upon the counter. She opened another cupboard, and pulled out a brown, clay cask stopped with cork. She pulled it free, and lifted the horn. A pungent aroma of apples met her nostrils as the amber liquid met the brim. No sooner had she filled it than a pale hand clasped it from the side. She released it, and met the eyes of the warlock as she turned. The warmth returned-and with it, a blush that made Nicholas snarl.
Jack simply grinned, a crooked smile that he’d given her countless times. He lifted the horn, and reached within his coat.
“A gift for a gift,” he said. He tipped the horn back and imbibed with greed. His hand pulled from his coat-and revealed a single envelope. He pushed it towards her, and Sarah took it with widening eyes.
As soon as her fingers met the envelope, she felt the hairs of her neck stand on end. It was a peculiar feeling, not unlike the one time Jack had-
“What business of yours is it to give my wife-” cried Nicholas, but Jack only laughed. It was a sound like reeds snapped underfoot.
“Oh come off it. I’ve worked with you how long now? Sarah’s heart isn’t mine-never was,” said Jack with a smirk. He took another drag, and stepped away from the lady herself. Smoke blew from the corner of his mouth as he sat the pipe beside the list.
“Besides, I’ve my own lady to keep in good graces,” he said.
Nicholas snorted, and jeered at the warlock. “Oh? Which one?”
Jack snickered, and placed his gaze upon the rotund man. “Well now, look at that. Got a bit of the old dander still, don’t we? Why, I bet you’d love for nothing more than those mitted hands around my ne-”
“Boys, really now! It’s christmas! Must we?” said Sarah, looking up at them. The men fell silent, and Sarah sat the envelope atop the counter. Next to the clay flask-of which, she’d no doubt make use yet.
Jack gave a sigh, and gazed down at the list. He jerked a thumb towards it, and tilted his head towards Nicholas. “Well, barring any yuletide murder, are we off then? Thrasher, Gnasher and all the other beasts ready to go?”
Nicholas closed his eyes, and gave a deep sigh. His arms fell to his sides as he shook his head. “Jack, you can’t keep calling them that. Marketing, boy. Marketing. But yes. I’m ready when you’re ready,”
“As ever, old one. Lady Sarah?” said the warlock as he turned. “Do give my regards to the elves. Be sure to tell them I’d like a trip back to Alfheim, should any of them have time off coming. I’ll gladly pay my way,”
He gave a deep bow, which Sarah returned with a curtsey that made Nicholas groan. “Why, of course Jack! I can contact you the usual way?”
“The sigil will always work ma’am,” he said as he rose. “And-a last request? Don’t open your card until dear Biflindi and I are off,”
Sarah blinked, but gave a slow nod. Jack returned it, and turned towards a fuming Nicholas who guarded the door. “Aye, let’s be going then. The winds howl no less for men of good intent than ill-and we’re a mixed bag,”
Nicholas shook his head, and muttered as he gripped the door handle. He shoved his shoulder against it as Jack raised the collar of his coal-colored coat. It gave at last with a roar of the wind-and the two were gone. Into the cold, freezing night. Sarah closed her eyes, and gave a sigh she gave every time the pair were off.
Like opposing sides of the looking glass, she thought. She perished the thought with a snort, and reached for the mead-filled flask. As she did, her eyes fell upon the envelope. Red as a poinsettia it was, with no seal or name. Her hand tarried from the warmth of the mead and gripped the envelope. It pulled back with ease-and revealed a crackling piece of parchment within. She pulled it free, and unfolded it deftly. As her eyes met what lay within, the warmth-real and palpable, from places she was far too embarrassed to admit-returned to her cheeks.
“Ohhhhhh my,” said Sarah, “Ohhhhh my my my,”
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Nina was a good girl. She had been most of her life. Which is what made the constant barrage of the holidays so incredibly damning.
She sat on the couch, her mug of coco and obligatory ugly sweater all she had to keep her warm. She sighed as the christmas special on her screen-of which she couldn’t remember the name of-met its natural conclusion. The stars kissed under mistletoe, the town’s parade was saved, and even Santa was there. All these people, all with someone to wrap their arms around. Or hold.
Or kiss.
It was the last detail that had her reaching for her remote. The screen was off a moment later, a smooth black piece of glass. Without it, the entire house fell into a deathly silence. In that moment, Nina wasn’t sure which was worse. The false happiness of the Lifetime network stars making her chest ache-or the realization of how enveloping the quiet of her own house was. Nina had tried-really, she had. She got a sweater! She got coco! She even made all the obligatory posts on social media-though the last made one of her friends launch into a tirade about “the war on christmas”. But none of these rituals made a single person materialize in her home.
She hadn’t even got an invite to the office Christmas party. A punishment which-compared to this-would have been a blessing.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if this had been the first year. It wasn’t so bad the first year-she had enjoyed having an evening to herself. But one year became five, and the cold quiet of Christmas had spiraled out into every month. She had stopped getting those random lunch invites she so dreaded before. Her inboxes sat empty on all her socials. Being thirty-five, she thought it was a result of her age.
Yet her friends seemed happy.
Her “friends” had other friends, people they still went out with.
Nina closed her eyes, and lifted her coco to her lips. She pretended it was the kinda-cute lead actor from that shitty special, and held in the tears. A thought occurred to her then-of the strange little thing she’d done earlier that month. She almost laughed thinking about it. The letter she had wrote-to Santa, of all things. It was preposterous, she knew. But her therapist had told her to vent her feelings, hadn’t she?
Dear Santa, it read, Please. Send someone. Anybody. I don’t even care if they’re attractive. Just-please. I don’t want to be alone anymore.
She had stood in line with parents and their children a whopping ten minutes to drop the letter into the bin. One bound undoubtedly for an incinerator. She had smiled and played the part of a busy mommy doing due diligence.
Yet she felt no better after the letter disappeared into the box with countless others.
She pulled the mug from her lips, and set it on the end table next to her. She gave a sigh, and stretched herself over her couch. Her head met a throw pillow, and for a moment she thought of taking a nap. Why the fuck not, she thought. Sleeping in was the least of a gift she could give herself.
Then came a knock at the door.
Nina bolted upright, her heart pounding against her ribs. She glanced at the clock on the wall behind her TV. Nine PM. Her mind wracked trying to think of who would be at her door. Much more, why they’d choose such an hour.
Carolers maybe? Didn’t that fall out of fashion like, YEARS ago?
Nine rose from the couch, her blood warm in her limbs. Her knees popped as she turned out of her living room, and faced the door. She eyed the door from the hallway, thinking to an umbrella she kept by the stairs. She tiptoed towards her, her hand outstretched towards it when the knock came once more. Nina slammed a hand over her mouth before she could scream. It wasn’t a loud knock-not something that rattled the door. More of a polite, careful tap upon the wood.
Nina dropped her hand from her mouth, and tiptoed towards the door. The umbrella forgotten by the stairs, she took a deep breath as she gripped the handle. She turned it ever so slowly, and pulled back. The hinges groaned as a sliver of streetlight came into view. She glanced outside-and her fears gave way to the twisted brow of puzzlement.
For on her doorstep stood a plump, rosy cheeked woman. Her silver hair was tucked away beneath a red velvet cap-on season, but not unfashionable. Her chest was cloaked in the same material, oddly form fitting given her age. In green leggings and black boots, she certainly looked the part of a caroler. Nina gave a small smile-and the women did the same. The sight of her grin, it thawed the part of Nina’s heart that withdrew from the world. She opened the door wider, and tilted her head.
“Uh, hi? Where’s the rest of your troop?”
“Troop?” said the woman, her brow arching slightly. “What troop? Oh, do you think I’m-Oh, dear me. No, I’m not one of those. Haven’t had the voice for it in years!”
The woman laughed, her hands clasped around her stomach. Nina stifled a smirk-the woman on her stoop made her think of someone. She couldn’t place who in that moment, and tucked the thought towards the back of her mind.
“Uh, okay. Can I uh, help you ma’am?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she seemed to remember herself. She patted down her plump form-from breasts to hips to butt-and paused. She pulled a red envelope from behind herself, and held it in front of her. The envelope seemed to capture Nina’s attention-like the woman, something about it seemed all too-
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Nina. The raw-wire panic from moments before awashed itself over her yet again. She stepped back-the door knob still in her hands.The door came with her as she stepped back. The woman glanced up from the envelope, and gave a wide grin.
“Oh, why thank you Nina! I was hoping I could come in!” she said with a tone that held so much holiday cheer Nina could already imagine whoever’s granny this was chopping her to bits.
“U-uh, ma’am? I don’t know how you got that letter, but-”
“A friend!” said the woman, a boot already in the door frame. “Why, my husband and I have this marvelous boy that works for us. Too many tattoos for my liking, but-”
“W-who is your husband?” said Nina, her eyes cutting towards the umbrella. It seemed such a stupid thing to ask, but if she could just keep this weirdo busy-
“Oh, Nicholas! Nicholas Clause! He’s known you all your life,” beamed the woman.
Now with both boots firmly within Nina’s home.
“Oh, Santa Clause huh? That’s your husband? Ain’t that nice,” said Nina. She took another step back, and calculated how quick she could clasp the umbrella. If it would be strong enough to-
“He most certainly is! So busy this time of year, what with the children and all. He’d make time for letters like this,” said the woman, lifting Nina’s letter. The very one she had dropped off right in line with all those others.
The one that should be in an incinerator. Not in a stranger’s hands, with her full name and address on it.
“-but, well. Then he would never get any time off. Not that he does much of that to begin with,” said the woman.
Nina muttered an “uh-huh”, and pondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea to call the police. She eyed the umbrella, then the archway of her living room. If she was just quick enough-
“Did you enjoy the dollhouse he brought when you were nine?”
The panic nina felt, the electric live-wire of her nerves gave way to full blown fear and confusion. She turned her head towards the woman by degrees, her chest rising as the adrenaline hit.
“What?”
The woman smiled, and tilted her head towards Nina. “The Barbie Deluxe Dreamhouse-complete with the car! That was a hot item that year, if memory serves. And you were good the entire year! Ate your veggies without a fuss and everything. Did you like it?”
Nina’s lips wavered for a moment, her thoughts word salad in her gray matter. Her eyes twisted shut, her jaw clenched as she ordered words to her tongue.
“Ma’am, I don’t know who you are or who put you up to this, but I’m really not in the mood for tricks. If you’ll please just leave, I’d really appreciate it,”
She opened her eyes-only to feel a pang of guilt right away. The woman-not an unattractive woman, despite her age-looked immensely sad. She peered at Nina, her cheeks reddened as she spoke.
“I-but why? Tricks? I don’t do tricks-not anymore. Nina Trodsworth, isn’t company what you want most this holiday season?”
Nina swallowed the lump in her throat, and took a deep breath.
“Yeah, but being the butt of a joke is god-awful. Did Steve from the office put you up to this? Is he in the street or something?” she said.
The woman’s face screwed into a pout as she shook her head. “Steve Shrute? Absolutely not! That toad! He’s such a misogynist loaf! Why, he’s never made the list! All that brown nosing hardly equates to good behavior. And his pranks!” said the woman with a grimace. She shook her head-and looked angry enough to practically spit.
“No, I would never work for such a-such a bully. I’m here of my own volition-and, frankly. A bit of kinship. You’ve been alone for years now, haven’t you dear?”
Nina-against all the screaming in her head-pursed her lips into a tight line. She gave a small nod, and stared at the woman. Her smile returned, and she held up the envelope once more.
“What some would call desperation? It was the right thing to do. So I’m here to grant you this wish-if you’ll have me,”
Nina stared at the envelope once more-and took a deep breath. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply.
“Sure-what the hell. But if this turns out to be a trick or some shit, I’m calling the cops right away. Got it?”
“Oh, there won’t be a need for that,” said the woman. She tucked the envelope back into her pants-to what pocket, Nina couldn’t say. Nina nodded, and tilted her head towards the living room.
“So uh, come in I guess. Get the door if you don’t mind. And what’s your name, miss?” she said.
The woman beamed once more, and lifted a hand. She snapped her fingers-and the door, ten feet behind her, without a single person or gust of wind to tug it, slammed shut of its own accord.
And locked itself.
“Oh, why I’m Sarah! Sarah Clause!” said the lady.
At that, Nina almost grabbed the umbrella.
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“So wait, let me get this right. This guy like-sends the kids directly to hell? In a giant bag? And this is like-a thing that still happens?”
“Why yes! He works all over the world, just like Nicholas. You wouldn’t believe how many potential dictators he’s stopped!”
“Is-is this that wizard guy, or krampus?”
Sarah chuckled, every inch of her jiggling. She laughed so hard she almost spilled her Vodka spiked eggnog. She had asked for “mead”-whatever that was. Nina had just stared at her until Sarah hand waved the comment away. “Whatever is strong and stiff then,” she said.
That was four cups and a few layers ago. Nina hadn’t wanted to take off her sweater. She was all too aware of how much “holiday cheer” had packed around her stomach. But buzzed and with company, it didn’t seem to matter. At the least, she’d have one hell of a story to tell monday.
The door.
The door had closed and locked itself.
She had been too shocked to say anything, but the thought kept worming it’s way back. Along with plenty of other things. This woman-she seemingly changed outfits every time Nina got her more eggnog. The red velvet always remained, but there was less and less of it each time. Nina hadn’t spied a coat hanging from the pegs in the hall. And those leggings seemed to only grow tighter.
“Jack would never. He’s cantankerous, but he loves children! Just like my husband,” said Sarah. She took a deep sip from her eggnog, and wiped her lips on the back of her hand. She turned towards Nina, and gave a wink.
“Just don’t let either of them hear you say that. No dear, I was speaking of Krampus. Now he on the other hand-phew. Let’s just say I’m very glad I turned him down. A looker beneath all that fur, but that temper,”
Nina nodded along, her head heavy and warm with drink. She took another sip herself, and tilted her face towards Sarah. “So how long has this been going on? I mean I don’t doubt what you’re saying, it’s just all…” she said, voice trailing.
“A lot to take in?” giggled Sarah.
“Uh, yeah. I mean. Finding out magic is real by way of Mrs. Clause wasn’t how I thought my evening was gonna go,” replied Nina.
Sarah snorted, and gave a shrug. She sat her mug down on the end table, and spread herself upon the couch. Try as she might not to, Nina’s eyes darted all over the woman’s form. It wasn’t a conscious thing. Rather, something only the lubrication of alcohol could have so freely allowed. When Sarah turned back towards her though, Nina’s eyes met the woman’s own.
“Well, it’s hard to say. Magicks always been around in one form or another. Rather, it’s the belief in it that hasn’t. All of you with your cars and your space shuttles. You really think you’ve got it figured out, don’t you?” said Sarah. She rolled her eyes, and waved the comments away with her hand.
“But in the end, it’s the child-like hope something different can happen. That’s what drives it. That momentary wish for something magickal. It’s adorable really,” said Sarah.
Nine grunted, and regarded the woman for a moment. Her grip tightened on her cup, and rather than speak she took another sip. While she did, Sarah turned towards her with a slight smile. She moved upon the couch, her wide soft form coming closer by the inches.
“I mean, that’s what made you want to write that letter? Isn’t it?” she said.
Nina nearly choked on her drink. She managed to swallow what was within her cheeks, and sat her cup on the end table. “I mean, uh-yeah. It’s been years now, and I just-” she said, stopping herself. She held up her hands, and gave a weak laugh.
“I was just sick of an empty house. I get this the rest of the year, you know?”
“Oh believe me, I do. Nicholas is a good man, really he is. But his work-it leaves so little time for…attention due elsewhere,” said Sarah. She lifted a hand to clear her throat, the tinge of her cheeks growing more intense.
“I’m sorry, that was perhaps a bit too much information,”
Nina snorted, and shook her head. “No, I get it. Girls in the office say the same thing about their husbands. You uh-you could maybe solve that, you know? Like-”
Sarah busted into laughter and rolled her eyes. “Dear, our workshop doesn’t make those kinds of toys. And the elves are all far too short without multiple stools. It’s just such a hassle, you know?”
Whatever words could have met Nina’s tongue died in the warmth of her cheeks. Sarah looked at her, and busted out laughing again. She widened her legs a bit more as a hand dropped over her inner thigh.
“Besides-not all of them like my kinds of package. Filthy little bigots,” said Sarah.
Nina blinked, and pulled her gaze from Sarah’s lap.
“Excuse me, what? You’re friggin’ gorgeous! The hell is wrong with them?” she said.
Sarah smiled-but looked away. “It’s a rather long story dear. Let’s just say I’m a bit more to unwrap than they were expecting,”
“Who cares if you’re chunky!” bellowed Nina, loud enough to bring Sarah’s gaze to her. “I mean, if I looked like you? I wouldn’t have trouble getting a date. Tonight, or ya’ know, ever,”
Sarah snorted, and lifted a finger to wag. “Not quite on the mark dear. I-well, I suppose it would be easier to show you? If that’s not too much,”
Nina shrugged, the power of vodka fusing directly into her brain. She twisted on the couch with a grin, and lifted her hands. “Sure, hell. Got a weird tattoo or something? Maybe a mole? Show me. I promise not to laugh. Scouts honor or something,”
Sarah stared at the girl a long moment before she rose. Her hands met the brim of her leggings as her tongue rolled over her lips. She tilted her head as she looked at Nina-and finally gave a grin as she pulled the leggings down.
Thwack.
Nina heard the sound before the sight before her registered. And that sound, it gave away everything she saw in that moment as real. It wasn’t the first cock she had seen. Much more, the first cock she had seen on a lady. But that didn’t stop it from being one of the biggest and meatiest she had ever beheld. She felt her thighs cinch as she looked at it, the head massive enough to make her jaw sore. A thick vein ran from the tip to the base, with a set of massive balls thrusting it forward.
Nina blinked, her jaw slack as Sarah gave a laugh. One that made every thick inch of the monstrous cock before her bounce.
“Told you they couldn’t handle it,” said Sarah simply.
Nina reached, and downed the rest of her eggnog in a single gulp. She swallowed hard, and looked up at Sarah. She tried to think of something witty to say-something charming.
Instead she slid down to her knees, and reached forward. Sarah didn’t say a word as the girl lifted it. She shivered instead as the head came mere inches from Nina’s lips, and grinned.
“You may,” she said.
There were several attempts. Nina put forth her best effort-twas the season for being kind to guests, after all. And she had invited her in. It was the least she could do. But as Sarah grew hard within her grip, Nina realized her mouth was simply far too small. So she took her shirt off and tried to clasp Sarah’s girth between her tits. If her breasts had been the size of Sarah’s, she might have made it happen.
Instead, the head poked against her lips. The smell of a warm, hard cock filled her nostrils-and made her rise. Her pants slipped away easy enough. As her grip tightened upon the couch, she looked over her shoulders at Sarah. She shuddered as the woman smacked her cock right in the cleft of her ass.
“G-go slow,” said Nina, “It’s uh-it’s been a while,”
“No worries deary-I know all too well what neglect can do to us,” replied Sarah. She leaned forward, the weight and warmth of her breasts wonderful against Nina’s back. She gripped the girls chin, and pressed her lips against them.
Peppermint. That’s what Nina tasted as their tongues met, as she stifled a moan. Sarah was inside her, filling her utterly as she greedily cupped her breasts.
Every thrust rocked the couch to the point of tipping over. Yet the pair kept a grip upon it, even as Sarah’s bucking grew so manic she began to slap Nina’s ass.
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“Oh to hell with you, I told you we should have taken a left turn at Egypt, but noooooo! We just had to stop for sushi, didn’t we?”
“A man can’t subsist on cookies and milk alone, warlock. And you certainly didn’t seem to mind!”
“Whatever. Old one, are we done? Can I get back to my kin now?”
“Certainly-and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”
“Very well. Season be with you, Wotan-”
“Wait-where’s Sarah? She was supposed to be here…”
“Aye. Maybe she tarried off to bed?”
“No, she’s always here when I return…is this your doing?!”
“I don’t cause, I only give opportunity. But, if you’re going to be alone tonight-care for a drink? Maybe we can talk about old times? Not often you get to pull the stopper off that flask…”
“…Well, I suppose,”
“Aye. I’ll get the horns. And Wotan?”
“What, boy?”
“…I had fun tonight. Thank you,”
“…Oh, get the mead already,”
Happy Holidays from the Splathouse Offices. From ours to yours, we hope it’s the best.