by Skye Warren
“Oh god yes,” I moaned. He pushed me back onto the bed and pulled off my jeans tossing them aside, before dropping to his knees in front of me. He kissed up my thighs and I watched him, absently feeling my own breast, too excited not to touch myself. He peeled my wet and useless panties from my body and tossed them aside before lapping up my pussy with his tongue.
He worked my clit, sucking and nibbling it, and I dropped back onto the bed. I gripped his hair, fingers laced through his thick locks, and let him do this thing. He ate my pussy like a starving man, licking and sucking like wild, clearly loving it. I took him and let him do what he wanted with me, moaning and losing my mind.
The night had led to this. I knew it was going to end this way, but part of me never wanted to admit it. It had to end this way, with this gorgeous man’s body against mine, his fingers inside of me, his mouth on my clit. Pleasure rocked through me, wave after wave of excitement.
“I can’t take it,” I moaned, sitting up. “Stop, you have to stop.”
He pulled back, his eyes questioning.
“Fuck me,” I said. “Now. Please. Fuck me.”
He grinned and stood. “I can never say no to that.”
He took off his pants and his black boxer briefs, revealing his thick, hard cock. I marveled at it as he stroked himself, spreading my legs wide. He pulled me to the edge of the bed and stood there, his heavy cock against my pussy.
I was aching for it. I wanted it so badly I could barely breathe.
“Do it,” I moaned. “Please. Don’t tease.”
“Teasing is half the fun,” he said, smirking at me. “I’m enjoying you writhing around there, begging for it like a dirty slut far too much to stop.”
“Please Trent, fuck me.”
I felt him press his cock against my entrance and slowly push in.
“Is this what you want?”
“Oh fuck, please, fill me,” I moaned.
He thrust once and pleasure mingled with pain flooded my body. His cock was thick, huge actually, and I had no clue how he even fit inside of me. But he was deep inside me, smirking, and slowly pulling back. The pleasure was tinted by the pain, making it that much more intense as he slowly began to thrust, pulling back and pushing forward.
He felt my breasts, teasing my nipples, before taking my hips and pushing in and out again. I groaned, taking his full length, shocked at how easily he filled me.
“Is this what you’ve been thinking of all night?” He asked.
“Yes,” I moaned, admitting it. “Ever since I saw that picture, I needed to fuck you. God, I needed this.”
“I know,” he grunted, moving faster. “I know you need my cock. You’re a dirty fucking girl for me.”
“Yes,” I moaned, losing myself. I was giving myself to this night, letting myself have what I wanted and not bothering to worry about the consequences. I’d worked so hard to get here and now I was going to fuck this perfect man.
His thumb began to work my clit as he fucked me, rocking in and out. I moaned loudly, head tipped back, pleasure rocking along my spine. He worked me deep and hard, fucking me like an animal, taking me.
“On the bed,” I said to him, sitting up suddenly.
“What?”
“You. On the bed. Now.”
He grinned at me. “Taking charge?”
“Get that big cock up on the bed and let me ride you until I come. Now.”
He did as he was told, climbing up onto the bed. I straddled him and slowly slid down his thick cock, taking it deep inside of me.
“Good girl,” he said. “Go ahead. Ride it. You fucking earned it.”
“Oh yes,” I moaned, working my hips, riding him up and down. My slick pussy swallowed his heavy cock, and it felt incredible, better than incredible. It felt too good to imagine.
I was in ecstasy as I rode him, up and down, hips rocking back and forth, rolling along his skin. His grunts and groans only made me work harder, shoving myself down, fucking him, taking his big dick.
I could feel the orgasm building inside of me. I worked faster, sweat dripping down my spine, hips going in circles, taking him, working him, grinding on him.
When the orgasm came, it came hard. It swallowed me, ripped through my body, tipped me into that place that can’t be described. It was pure bliss, and when it was through, I felt ravaged in the best way possible.
“Shit yes,” I gasped, slowing down. “That was what I needed.”
He grinned, grabbing my hips. “Good. I’m here to please.”
“One thing left now.”
“What’s that?”
I climb off him, kneeling to the side, and took his cock in my hand. I opened my mouth and licked him root to tip, tasting myself on his skin and loving it. I began to suck him then, sucked him hard. I slid up and down his cock, taking as much as I could into my mouth, but he was just so thick. I could barely take him, but I worked hard anyway.
“That’s right,” he groaned. “You want to swallow my cum, don’t you?”
I responded by using both hands to jerk his shaft as I sucked his tip. He groaned, pushing me down, pressing his cock into my throat. I took him then moved back, sucking again and working harder, faster.
“Shit,” he groaned. “Go ahead. Keep going. I’m fucking close.”
His whole body tensed as he came, and I swallowed every drop of his warm cum.
When I finished, we collapsed onto the bed together, spent and sweating. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. The room was warm and comfortable, and I didn’t want to go anywhere.
“That was amazing,” I said softly. “Everything. The sex, the hunt, the game. It was all amazing. Thank you.”
“Do you want more?” he asked softly.
I sat up, looking at him. “What?”
“There’s more. There’s a lot more. I can show you.”
I stared at him, not sure what to say. I could feel that my life was on the verge of changing, and if I accepted this, it would become something I never imagined. I would become someone I never pictured. I couldn’t decide if I was afraid of that or if I wanted it more than anything else.
Already I’d changed, just over the course of a night. And as I thought about it, I knew that I liked the way I changed.
But I didn’t know him. He was still a stranger to me, even though I sensed something in him. Something kind, tender, loving, and strong. He was giving to charity and he was nice to me, soft and easy.
“Yes,” I said finally. “I want more.”
“Good.” He kissed me, held me, and took me places I never, ever thought I’d go.
THE END
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Part XIII
Taken by Santa by Bella Love-Wins
A Standalone Holiday Short Story
Chapter 1
Dakota
I just discovered that honesty is not the best policy. No, the truth can get you in a shitload of trouble if said honesty is shared with the wrong people, in the wrong place, and at the wrong time. Like five minutes ago, when I wrote the number ‘0’ on that bright pink sticky note. I should have left the piece of paper blank, or declined to participate, or even better, I could have just written the number ‘1’.
How bad would a white lie have been at a time like this, anyway?
I’m at a half-empty strip club on ladies’ night, for Christ’s sake.
Four days before Christmas.
This should be a safe place to tell the truth, but I realize now that I’ve baited myself, and lying was realistically the best option. I’m surrounded by nine women who are all here in celebration for the bachelorette party I organized for my sister, Dina, before she gets married on Christmas Day, no less. For as long as I can remember, Dina has dreamed of a Christmas wedding. She wants everything white, snowy and sparkly, and that is what she’ll get.
Tonight though, is all about getting a little wild and a bit dirty. We’ve been t
hrowing back shots, dancing, and ogling the male strippers on the main stage of the Blue Bayou strip club.
We’ve also been playing party games. They were fun right up until ten minutes ago when I passed the reins to Veronica, the resident hot blonde girl with big blue eyes, a healthy helping of boobs and long legs, who can pretty much get any man she wants anywhere she goes. She decides that we need to play a weird version of Have I Ever. Except in Veronica’s game, the rules are different. All ten of us have to play at the same time, by writing down our honest answer to one question and placing the handwritten responses in Dina’s cock-shaped party hat. The question is, how many times have we each had an orgasm as a result of a man’s mouth traveling south. My sister, as guest of honor, gets to pull each response from the hat, and she has to guess who wrote each answer.
Shit.
I should have written the number ‘1’, because it’s not just the case that I’ve never had an orgasm from below-the-belt action.
I’ve never had an orgasm.
Ever.
What’s worse is that my sister hones in on my answer like a dog with a bone. She is close enough to everyone to guess every answer correctly. My ‘0’ is her last guess, which isn’t really a guess, due to the obvious process of elimination. I have a perfectly good reason for my answer, and I’m dumb enough to explain it to Dina and her friends, thanks to all the shots I’ve already had. It’s because I happen to be a twenty-one-year-old virgin who has never ever messed around with a guy. I’ve kept that secret so close to my chest that even Dina didn’t know before tonight. It’s not that I’ve been going around telling people that I’m sexually active, but there’s a finality about sharing the harsh truth inside a strip club around the holidays. In this particular setting, people can’t help but want to do something about it, as though deflowering me would make for a special gift.
It irks me that Dina doesn’t flinch for Shelley’s ‘15’ or Veronica’s ‘too many to count’ answers. She has nothing to say for Melanie, who wrote ‘3, but 2 of those times were when my boyfriend used a vibrator’. Sure, those replies attract their fair share of chuckles, but my ‘0’ seems to evoke a silent confusion, followed by a rallying cry among our mostly inebriated group, one that screams ‘get Dakota to sit on a guy’s face before the night is over’.
“We’re serious,” Dina says to reiterate the comments by her excited mob clan of friends. “You can’t afford to let another day go by without finding out the joys of lip service between your legs.”
“Time to make your girly bits sing!” Shelley shouts, and I’m grateful the music in here is turned way up.
“Not gonna happen,” I say, shaking my head. “Not here, not now, not like this.”
I point to the stage, hoping they’ll turn their attention back to the firefighter stripper act. The ripped blond guy with the Santa hat has just thrown down his yellow fireman’s turnout jacket. He’s swinging his red suspenders around to get the women excited for the grand finale of dragging his pants off.
Leave it to Veronica to make my life more difficult at a time when I can be enjoying the show in peace.
“How about this, Dakota? The next guy that walks into this club gets to do you the honor.”
“Aww, hell no,” I say.
“How about, next cute guy who’s willing?”
“Do I look desperate to you?”
She studies me for a moment. “No, you don’t, but that’s the problem. If you knew what you were missing, you would be desperate. Come on, I’ll even help. I nominate myself to warm them up to the idea. Think of it as my Christmas gift.”
I signal to the waitress. I need drinks for everyone around the table except for me. At the moment, I’ll do anything to get them off my back.
“Two rounds of nine black Sambuca shots,” I tell the waitress who shows up in a skimpy green elf costume. It’s Dina’s favorite liqueur shot, so everyone at our table has been indulging.
“Right away,” she answers and returns to the bar with a smile on her face. I make a guess that she’s happy for the big order, and probably happier that we aren’t the usual rowdy male patrons who come in here and stuff dollar-bill tips in the waistbands of her teeny tiny boy shorts as a rule.
Dina turns to me. “You’ve got to do this, Dakota. I never realized you took your conservatism this far.”
“I’m not conservative,” I say in objection.
“Then, what would you call being a virgin at twenty-one? You do realize you’re in your third year of college, right? If you wait any longer, it’ll be weird and freaky.”
“I prefer not to label it.”
“Maybe this party is a blessing for you.” Dina’s gray eyes light up. “You owe me a party favor,” she says, eyes full of mischief. She reaches down to her purse and drags out the keys to her convertible. “And this is what I want. Veronica gets to ask the next acceptable guy who walks in, on your behalf, of course.” She dangles her car keys. “I’ll even let you get your cherry licked in my car, and you know how special it is to me.”
“Girl, have you gone and lost your mind?” I screech. “I’m not doing it. This is your bachelorette party. You’re the one with the license to misbehave one last time before your wedding. And you know what else? It’s all kinds of disturbing, having this conversation with you…my sister!”
“But you’re single. You can do what you want with whomever you want tonight. My vote is for you to go all the way.”
I shake my head. “Are you serious right now? I’m here for you, Dina, not to get my rocks off with some lowlife strip club patron who has to pay for a woman to give him a lap dance.” The waitress returns, and I hastily scoop up the two shots that she puts in front of my sister. “By the way, you’re cut off,” I tell her, knocking them back.
Dina gets to her feet. “That party favor is mine to use exactly the way I want,” she barks. “Everyone here agreed to it, including you. Sorry, sis. You don’t get to back out.” She straightens up, crosses her arms, and turns to face the club entrance. “Get ready, Dakota. You’re up for the next decent looking guy.”
I’m about to vehemently object when someone catches my eye at the front door. I immediately wave over to the waitress for another round. I ask for eleven drinks—three for me, and one for everyone but Dina. Thank goodness we booked a block of adjoining rooms at the hotel down the street.
Two drinks may not be enough.
Owen, my former neighbor and old high school crush, walks in wearing a Santa suit and a fake beard halfway down his face.
Chapter 2
Owen
I walk into the Blue Bayou in a Santa suit. It’s ladies’ night and a few days before Christmas. I’m here to win a bet. My frat brothers have collected a thousand bucks to see me sneak up onstage and do as much of my sexy Santa striptease that I can complete before getting thrown out of the place by some big, mean as fuck bouncers. I’d do pretty much anything for that kind of money, so I don’t mind risking a black eye or two. A grand is just enough cash for me to put a sweet bow on all my last-minute holiday shopping. The truth is, I’d do this for free. I love Christmas, I enjoy strip clubs, and I have no problem getting naked.
There’s a pretty sparse crowd inside, which makes what I have to do that much easier. Straightening out the pillow doubling as a fake belly under my costume, I head to the main stage. My timing is perfect. A firefighter act is wrapping up, and the music hasn’t quite come to an end. The boys start to clap loudly as I step up on stage and proceed to do my thing. Hands raise into the air. The only cluster of women in the place begins to applaud and whistle excitedly.
I’m feeling like a boss. My smile grows as I mentally count my money with the removal of each item of my costume, starting with the thick, black Santa belt. I whip the thing around like a pro for a while, until the pillow drops from my midsection. Removing it from under my suit, I fling it to the side stage area where my friends are congregating, to avoid hurting anyone who’ll give a damn.
T
he red velvet suit jacket is next to go. It leaves me shirtless, with just the red pants, my Santa hat, and black lace-up boots. The music changes over to an upbeat country western version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. I realize I’m sexy as hell, but I’ve never heard a group of people scream as much as these ladies. At the rate they’re going, they’ll probably faint if I remove my tear-away stripper version of Santa pants. To keep them conscious, I wrap up with my Santa hat, flinging it into the audience, directly toward the raucous ladies.
That’s when I notice a few familiar faces.
The woman in the baseball cap that reads ‘Bride-to-Be’ looks just like one of the two sisters who lived on the street where I grew up. The hesitant girl next to her that they’re all pushing toward the stage proves it.
I squint to double-check.
Yes.
It’s Dakota and Dina all right, plus seven or eight of their loudest friends, I’d have to guess. They toast each other with shot glasses, and I notice three who have chosen something different to drink right afterward. One, a brunette, is chugging a beer. Another cradles a rum and Coke, and a third keeps refilling a shot glass with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Luckily, she seems to be slowing her rate of consumption. Otherwise, I might fear for her later on. For me to do my best, all of these lovelies need to be awake and alert. I would hate for my singular talent to go to waste on a bunch of boozers.
I give the ladies a wave and get back to my moves. Before I can finish my potentially award-winning performance, fate catches up to me. Three burly bouncers stalk toward the stage to get rid of me. I’m actually surprised it took them this long. Raising my arms to show them my readiness to cooperate, I step down and begin walking toward my friends, who have quickly made it to the exit.
There’s just one thing.
Dina is outside waiting for me with a leggy blonde I’ve never met.
