by Alison Tyler
“Never had a chance. We’ve mostly used the tub when it was full of guests.”
She was right, of course.We’d only put in the hot tub early this fall, after a successful summer gave us the spare cash. During the slower parts of the fall and early winter, we’d been busy with postseason repairs and redecorating and getting ready for first Thanksgiving and then Christmas, and collapsing in small, exhausted heaps when we weren’t up to our eyebrows in some house project. And we’d gotten used to thinking of the tub as the guests’ domain, not ours.
Important safety tip: take time for ourselves more often.
“Like it?”
“Oh, yes.”
She was purring, but she still sounded much too coherent. I crouched over her, cupping a breast with one hand, pushing two fingers of the other inside her. So hot and tight, gripping against my hand. Slow in-and-out fucking, pushing against her swollen G-spot, my thumb on her clit and the relentless caress of the jet. She was so hot that I expected the snow to sizzle as it hit her, but it just melted, joining the water that made her body gleam. “Are you going to come for me?” I whispered in her ear, and she convulsed silently.
I didn’t let up, though. Lucie, once she got going, could come for a long time. There’s nothing I like better than seeing her become utterly boneless with lust, and she certainly obliged, bucking and contracting against my fingers in wave after wave of orgasm and cooing softly.
Until suddenly her noises weren’t soft anymore. She bucked back against me, almost pushing me over, arched, and howled her pleasure to the snowy night, drowning out the carols, drowning out the howling wind. Drowning out everything but the roar of my blood.
The sound echoed through my clit, ringing me like Santa’s sleigh bells, only much sweeter. I’d forgotten, after years with Lucie’s quiet ways, how hot a screaming woman can be. (Okay, I hadn’t forgotten it. I just hadn’t let myself spend too much time being wistful over the one thing missing in a great relationship.) These unfamiliar—yet entirely Lucie—noises galvanized me, pushed me toward the edge as fast as a touch might. I ground myself against Lucie’s shuddering body and added my own cries to hers.
We slumped down together, boneless. Somehow, we managed to arrange ourselves so we were supported on the seat and not in danger of drowning. I can’t speak for Lucie, but I know in my case brains weren’t involved in the process. I pulled her close, cuddled her still-shuddering form against me.
“Wow,” she choked out, and buried her face against my shoulder. A little while later she repeated it. “Wow.”
“I’ve never heard anything that beautiful, love. What broke the dam?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The jets. You. The contrast between hot and cold.You. This amazing storm.You. Christmas Eve magic.You.”
All around us, the roof tops and holiday decorations of Provincetown were disappearing under snow. Our own deck was getting buried except right around the hot tub, and the lights on the backyard trees were obscured by snow. We’d freeze getting back to the apartment, and cleaning up once the storm was over would be backbreaking. And at some point I’d have to think about all the income we weren’t getting from the canceled bookings. But for now, safe inside our private Christmas Eve of steam, hot water, and desire, that didn’t matter.
“Hearing you let loose like that was the best Christmas gift you could have possibly given me, love,” I whispered to Lucie.
She giggled in a floaty way, still on a post-orgasmic high. “That’s good,” she said.“I didn’t have much time to shop. But I think I can give that present over and over—now that I’ve found it.”
Mulled Wine
Dominic Santi
“Why does your dick taste like mulled wine?”
If Glen and I were monogamous, that would be a problem. Fortunately, we’re not. So I grinned when I looked down at him and said, “I stopped at Jake and Karl’s Christmas party on the way home.”
“Oh, indeed!” Glen leaned forward, once more sucking my dick into his mouth. His short blond curls bobbed against his Santa hat and his blue eyes twinkled up at me. I loved watching his cheek bulge out as my dick hardened on his hot, wet tongue. He sucked me long and slowly, like he was drawing the flavor off my skin to differentiate each of the specific tastes.
“Cinnamon, clove,” he laughed, pulling back so his saliva dripped off my dickhead. “Perhaps a hint of allspice.”
I shivered as he flicked his tongue down my shaft, like a snake smelling. He paused to suck my skin into his mouth, massaging with his tongue before he worked his way back up, and swallowed me deep. He was panting when he finally came up for air.
“How’s about you give me all the gory details, hot stuff, while I feast on your exceptionally delicious dick and get you naked.” He once more kissed down my shaft, this time untying my shoes with one hand.“I’m in the mood for something festive.”
I saw no reason to argue with the man sucking my dick. Just as I’d expected, Glen had ambushed me when I walked in the door. “Festive” barely began to describe his attire. He was naked except for the Santa hat and a shiny steel ring encircling the base of his cock and balls. A large pair of jingle bells hung from the bottom of the ring, swinging merrily on red and green curly ribbon below his freshly shaved scrotum and his upthrust cock. On one nut he’d painted LUV, on the other, U, in what I had no doubt was the spearmint-flavored, glow-in-the-dark, red body paint I’d seen him admiring when he was perusing the latest and greatest at his favorite online sex-toy store last week.
“God, I love the way you have fun,” I laughed.The sound segued into a moan as he deep throated me again. He hummed the first bars of “Jingle Bells” along with the CD he had playing in the background, his voice vibrating over me until I was shaking.Then he pulled his mouth off my dripping dick and slid the first shoe off my foot.
“The wine, my love…”
I balanced my hands on his hat as he deftly peeled off my shoes and socks and disposed of the pants puddled around my ankles.
“Jake sent me an email I couldn’t refuse as we were closing up for the day. I followed him home, reminding him you and I had plans, so I couldn’t stay late.” I looked down meaningfully into Glen’s sparkling baby blues. He slurped my dick back into his mouth, rewarding me with a sucking kiss that left me shaking. “B-by the time we got there, Karl and his buddies had a fucking orgy going on. There must have been thirty people roaming around the house, and it was barely six.” I threw off my jacket and tie as Glen sat up and yanked open the buttons on my shirt. I tossed that aside as well.“Four guys in elf hats were straddling the coffee table, trying to fuck in a daisy chain to ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.’ Fantastic hors d’oeuvres, bowls of mint-flavored condoms—and lots of mulled wine. Fuck, that feels good!”
I moaned, grabbing Glen’s head as he again dove down on my dick. He was laughing so hard I was surprised he didn’t choke. I fucked in and out of his mouth, panting hard. “I told Jake I was only going to play for a while, and I didn’t want to come as that would interfere with our plans here. That’s when he dunked my dick in his wine and told me they’d be going strong all night, if we wanted to ‘come’ by later.” As Glen looked quizzically up at me, I locked my fingers in his hair. “Up to you, sweetie. At the moment, I’m right where I want to be.” I tipped his chin up so our eyes met and held. “I wouldn’t miss our holiday tradition for the world.”
Nodding, he winked and went back to licking my dick. Then he licked his way up my belly and up my chest and neck until we were swallowing each other like anacondas. Still kissing me, he grabbed hold of my dick and led me into the living room.
A fire was blazing in the fireplace. The coffee table had been pushed aside. In its place was Glen’s exercise mat covered with red satin sheets. A pile of holiday throw pillows on the mat glowed in the firelight. On the floor on a short wooden tray were two full crystal water goblets and a silver bowl of unwrapped candy canes. Still holding my dick, Glen led me onto the middle of the m
at and pushed me down on my back. Facing me, he dropped to his knees and straddled my head, so his scrotum hovered over my mouth.
“Read your Christmas cards, hot stuff,” he said, lowering himself until his painted balls were almost touching my lips and those damn jingle bells rolled forward to tickle my nose.
I could read, all right. “I love you, too,” I laughed, sticking out my tongue. As my taste buds exploded with the taste of mint, Glen squatted farther down. I filled my mouth with the firm, smooth heat of his low-hanging balls. He moaned as I washed them clean, licking and sucking with the same fervor he’d shown my shaft, tangling my tongue on those damn bells and ribbons, and worrying my lips over the body-warmed metal of his cock ring. Even over the mint, I could smell sweat and soap and the scent that was so uniquely my man’s.
When Glen shoved a pillow under my head, I groaned in anticipation. “I’m going to choke on these fucking bells.”
“No, you won’t,” he laughed. He grabbed a pillow for himself and turned around. The bells jingled merrily as he again positioned himself over my chest. He squatted back, his cheeks spread wide, revealing the beautiful pink pucker aiming right for my mouth. His warm, hard cock pressed against me and those damn bells rolled back beneath my chin. I resisted the urge to lick as he leaned forward and lifted my legs, spreading them wide and bending them back under his arms. He’s just enough shorter than I that we fit together perfectly. My hard-on pressed against his chest.
“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, blowing gently. I arched up, shivering as his lips came down. Then he was kissing my hole.With a heartfelt moan, I stuck out my tongue and indulged in the long, slow lick I’d been longing for.
I felt Glen’s groan in every bone in my body. His hole was beautiful, a tight little pucker. It swelled up warm and tangy and sensitive when I worried it with my tongue. As I wet him to glistening with my spit, Glen’s kisses deepened. I pulled my legs farther back, opening myself wider to him as he dug in deep.
“Fuck, that feels good.” I gasped as he drilled his tongue into me. Putting my fingers on either side of his spit-covered pucker, I spread his cheeks wide. He was tonguing me harder, wiggling his ass, leaning back farther as I stretched him. I licked one finger, put it in the center of his pucker, and rubbed.
Glen went wild. He rocked his chest over my hard-on, leaning back as he feverishly licked my hole.
“So good!” he panted, squirming uncontrollably as I pressed my fingertip in. As much as Glen loved sixty-nining, his concentration went all to hell when I penetrated him. He licked and sucked my hole for all he was worth, but every other thought process in his brain drained south to where my lips and fingers were. I slowly spread his sphincter, working in both index fingers up to the first knuckle as I gradually stretched him open and lapped my way into him. What he was doing to my ass was driving me nuts. Glen went wild, moaning and writhing and tongue-fucking me as the muffled bells jingled against my neck. I washed him with spit until his hole was dripping and I was shaking.Then I reached into the silver bowl.
The candy canes had been Glen’s idea. He’d spent hours on the Internet, researching and later taste testing and “environmental” testing various brands until he found the perfect ones that were wide and strong and smooth enough for what he had in mind.The week before our first Christmas together, he’d seduced me into another of the mutual rim jobs we loved so much. And he’d brought out his pièce de résistance. I’d never come so hard in my life.
He moved in with me the next day. Every year since, we’d celebrated our anniversary the same way. I knew what was coming tonight. So did Glen. He groaned at the soft clink as I wet the candy cane in the water glass. I kept licking, gentling his hole open even as I spread his cheeks wide with the fingers of one hand.Then I pushed his hips slightly up, ignoring those damn bells as I touched the wet candy to his pucker. Very slowly, I twirled the tip of the cane.
His pucker clenched, quivering as I rubbed the sticky peppermint into the spit. I licked around the stick, careful not to penetrate him, my mouth tingling with the onslaught of mint. Glen panted and shook above me. When my lips were as sticky as his hole, I licked him wet again.Then I blew softly over his skin.
Glen jerked up hard, crying out as I turned the cane sideways and rubbed it back and forth. Each time I blew, he shuddered hard.
“You know what’s coming next, hon,” I whispered. I dunked the candy cane in the water again. Spreading him wide, I again dug my tongue in deep. He was so warm inside, so smooth on my tongue as I drilled through his trembling gate. I sucked the sides of his sphincter, savoring the flavor of his skin blending with the mint on my taste buds. This time, when I withdrew my tongue, I had the dripping candy cane waiting. I touched it to his now loose and slippery hole, and slowly, deliberately twirled it in.
Glen bucked up, yelling and clenching his ass muscles as I gradually worked a good inch of the candy cane past his now darkly flushed and slightly swollen pucker. I took the candy out, tonguing his minty, hot hole while I dunked the cane in the water again. Then I fucked the slippery, sticky toy back into him, slowly working my way up. As his tongue flicked erratically over me, I slowly and relentlessly slid the peppermint inside him, watching the red and white stripes disappear to the two-inch “safety” line Glen had painstakingly marked on the cane.
“You like?” I growled, keeping up the long, slow fucks as I licked my minty spit up the back of his balls and over the metal ring surrounding the base of his rock-hard dick.
“Oh, God, yes!” he groaned, grinding his cock against me as I twirled the cane in and out of his ass like a barber pole.“It’s hot, and it’s cold, and it burns, and I love it! Fuck, I love it!”
With his whole body shaking, he jerked my legs farther up and drove his tongue into me. I’ve been a slut as many years as my sweetie has. At the feel of his tongue, I relaxed my hole and let him take me to heaven. His hand fumbled as he reached for his crystal glass. He swore loudly as he knocked it over. Bracing himself on one elbow, he dunked a candy cane into my water glass. Then he was between my legs again, his elbows pressing my thighs back and open as his fingers spread my asslips. I could feel the hint of heat on his fingers where he gently caressed my sphincter. In front of me, his asshole still fluttered ecstatically over the candy cane buried two full inches up his butt.
“Don’t move the cane,” he choked out, licking my hole as he wet me. “I need to concentrate.”
Holding the handle of the candy, I left the cane buried in his ass and stilled my hand. I kissed the sticky, mint-flavored flesh in back of his balls as I braced myself for what I knew was coming. But even with all the times we’d done this, I could never really be prepared. I felt the delicious twirl and slide at the same time I felt the heat.Then I felt the cold and the burn and the vibration of Glen’s laughter. I yelled and bucked up and the cane slid in its full two inches in one long glide.
I thought I’d never stop shaking. Glen fucked me until I was twitching so much I could hardly breathe. As my balls climbed my shaft, he shifted, just enough for me to suck his cock into my mouth. I tasted mint as his dick slid down my throat. I felt the burning cold, and the wet heat of his mouth closing over my shaft.Then we were a frenzy of fucking, sucking, juicy holes and dicks as we ground together and sucked each other off and fucked each other with those fucking candy canes until we sent each other into orbit with orgasms that literally had me seeing stars. My balls drained themselves dry, and I sucked his come down my throat until he collapsed on top of me.We lay there for the longest time, totally blissed out and holding each other tight, covered in sticky, minty come with the candy canes still buried up our butts. Finally, Glen lifted his head.
“That is really starting to burn,” he laughed. He was still out of breath as he clenched and unclenched against the candy cane. I dutifully slid the cane free, then tenderly licked his swollen asshole clean. My mouth tingled as much as my hole did where Glen was now washing me the same way.
He pressed
his ass back against my face as he once more kissed my throbbing hole.As our pulses slowed, he turned and snuggled into my arms. His hat had fallen off somewhere during the festivities.When he worked the cock ring off, I threw it and those damn jingle bells across the room. We lay there for a long time, watching the fire and kissing, and laughing when we squirmed at the stimulation in our assholes. It felt good holding him, even though I wasn’t tired.
Actually, I wasn’t tired at all. And when we kissed, I tasted a hint of mulled wine spices from my cock on his lips, along with the peppermint.
“You know,” I said, rubbing my fingers in the sticky come and candy juice on his belly. “It’s not really that late.”
His laugh told me he’d been thinking the same thing.“I’ll bank the fire. But no fucking at the party. I have no idea how the peppermint affects rubbers.” At my raised eyebrows, he shrugged and grinned. “No matter who you have sex with tonight, I want you feeling my love juice burning your ass. Just like I feel yours.” He gave me a quick kiss, then bent to pick up his goblet.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie. Let’s go find us a holiday orgy.”
Melting
Savannah Stephens Smith
Wintertime. Rain. Endless gray, moss creeping over the driveway, and water dripping like a sad lullaby. Coastal living can be good. We rarely have to shovel our driveways or creep along behind a plow truck, shivering and anxious to get home. It’s a gardener’s and golfer’s paradise, and lovely most of the year. But winter’s rains dampen more than the ground.
By early December, I felt as sodden and dispirited as the weather. After shaking off my umbrella to the sound of rain falling endlessly on the carport roof, I closed the door against another long week. Another lonely Friday night awaited: a bottle of white wine and the choice between television and a good novel.
I called my mother on Saturday morning while laundry tumbled in the dryer. As we talked, I realized I missed winter, real winter. I missed the cold, blue light against the walls in the morning when I woke up, a cool brightness that meant there was fresh snow on the ground. I missed the clarity of winter days and the change of seasons. I even missed that hard, flat sky when you could, if you tried really hard, smell the coming snow in the air. My grandfather could always smell snow, and I was convinced that I could, too. I missed the soft hush of snow as it fell silently and turned the ordinary magical. Cold flakes melting on my tongue and the silvery play of moonlight on ice. I even missed ducking snowballs thrown by my brother and sister.
