by Lucy Wild
Carol knew these men. They were men of business who often frequented her brothel.
“How are you?” asked one.
“How are you?” returned the other.
“So old Christmas has passed at last.”
“So I am told.”
The phantom moved on. Carol was inclined to surprise that the spirit attached such importance to trivial conversations but she assumed some hidden meaning would soon become apparent. They reached her brothel and though the clock suggested she should be there, she was not.
They went on to an obscure part of town, recognised as a place of ill repute, whores here worked the streets, their clients disgorging quantities of spunk in the open air without a care in the world. Here they found a low browed shop where two unsightly villains shared out the contents of a bag of stolen goods.
“Little good they did her in life,” said one. “She should have sold all and enjoyed her time more with a good screw.”
“No truer word was ever spoke,” replied the other. “These were took while her body laid in bed, she was unable to mind for her breath was no longer in her body. I thought she would no longer need the blankets nor curtains of her abode. She won’t catch cold now and I took her panties too for she won’t need them where she’s going.”
Carol listened in horror to this dialogue. “Spirit,” she shuddered. “I see that the case of this unhappy but obviously unconnected to me in any way person might be similar to my fate unless I change my ways. But what is this?”
She recoiled in terror for before them now was a bare uncurtained bed and a ragged sheet covering something up that was hard to see in the darkness. Carol wished to lower the cover to see the face underneath but had no power to do so. She thought, if this woman could be raised up now, what would be her thoughts?
She lay alone with cat tearing at the door and rats gnawing beneath the hearth. “This is a fearful place. Let me leave it but I shall not leave its lesson behind. Let us go.”
The spirit shook its head.
“If there is any person who feels emotion caused by this death, show them to me, I beseech you.”
The phantom spread its robe and in an instant they were in a room by daylight, a woman pacing up and down, clearly expecting someone. A man walked in, looking gloomy and downcast.
“Is it good or bad?” she asked.
“Bad.”
“We are ruined?”
“Unless she relents?”
“She is past relenting, she is dead.”
“To whom will our debt be transferred?”
“I don’t know. I wish I could have resisted the call of the whores nor taken advantage of the no upfront cost pricing system with its shocking rate of usurers interest.”
“It is not your fault alone. I accompanied you to the orgy after all.”
“Perhaps the debt will be transferred to a kind hearted creditor. They could never be so merciless as the old crone.”
Their hearts were lighter, they were indeed happy the woman had died.
“Can I see tenderness connected with death?” asked Carol.
The ghost conducted him through several streets and as they went Carol looked around her. They entered Bob Fuckwit’s house and found the mother and children seated around the fire. All were quiet, so very quiet.
In came Bob Fuckwit and took his tea, children by his side. He spoke pleasantly to them. “It is a green place where he is. Oh my little child!”
He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it, leaving the room and going upstairs. He sat on a chair that had signs of someone having been there lately. Returning to the fireplace he told them all of Carol’s step-nephew whom had been so kind to him, asking what ailed him when they bumped into each other in the street. “He said he was heartily sorry to hear of what happened. It was as if he knew Teeny Tit himself. We’ll never forget him will we?”
“Never!” cried they all.
“I know when we recollect how mild he was, we shall not quarrel ever again.”
Mrs Fuckwit kissed him and Teeny Tit’s essence was with them.
“Spectre,” said Carol. “I get the feeling that the anonymous dead woman who was clearly not connected to me in any way, was nonetheless someone of importance. I have literally no idea who it might have been. Who was it?”
The ghost took him to his house yet its cock pointed away. “My house is yonder,” said Carol. “Why do you point over there?”
They hastened to Carol’s whorehouse where the office was there but no longer the same, the figure in the chair not herself. They went on, reaching an iron gate of a churchyard. Here the spirit stood among the graves and pointed down to one.
“Before I look at that stone to which you point which will obviously be someone nothing to do with me, answer me this. Are these the shadows of things that definitely one hundred percent will be and nothing can change them, thus rendering this entire adventure utterly pointless in every respect, or are they the shadows of what might be?”
Still the ghost pointed down at the grave. Carol crept towards it and following the cock, read upon the stone of the neglected grave her own name, CAROL CHRISTMAS.
“Am I the woman who lay upon the bed?” Carol cried in shock, utterly amazed as the spirit rolled its unseen eyes and slapped its forehead. “Hear me spirit, I am not this woman! Why show me if I am past all hope? Could I suck you off in return for being saved?”
The cock began to twitch for the first time and Carol took it in her hands. “You are interceding for me, assure me that I may yet change the future with an altered life and I’ll take you into my mouth this instant.”
The cock trembled.
“I will honour orgasms in my heart, I will indulge in White Christmas with all and sundry, I will let cock after cock into my pussy, take on men and women and enjoy sex for the wonderful thing it is, I swear. I will live in erotic past, present and future. The spunk of all three shall remain within me.”
She brought her mouth to the cock and sucked him into the back of her throat, almost gagging as she licked around the bulbous end, feeling heat on her tongue, rocking her head back and forth whilst the spirit remained frozen in place.
The moment she felt spunk hit her tongue, she looked up to see the spirit gone and she was sucking on a bedpost.
Chapter 5
The bedpost was her own. The bed was her own. The room was her own. “I will fuck in the past, the present and the future,” Carol cried as she scrambled out of bed. “The spunk of all three shall strive within me. Oh Marlene, be praised for what you’ve done!”
She began sobbing as she beheld the bed curtains. “They are not torn down. They are still here as am I. “I want to masturbate, I want a cheeky threeway, I want five men wanking on my face at once, I want an all women oiled up orgy. I want it all!” She ran through to the sitting room. “The pan of gruel will be filled with spunk instead,” she laughed.
For a woman out of practice for so long, it was a splendid laugh. “I don’t know what day it is but I don’t care. I’m going to come every day for a year. Hallo there!” The church bells began to ring as she spoke, the sound glorious to her ears.
Running to the window she opened it and threw off her night shirt, standing brazenly naked in full view of passersby, her breasts free and unfettered, her nipples stiffening in the cold air. “What is today?” asked Carol to a passing man as she ran her hands down her chest to her pussy and pushed two fingers into herself.
“Why today’s Christmas Day,” replied the man.
“Christmas Day! Then I haven’t missed it. The spirits did it all in one night. I say my good fellow!”
“Hallo there.”
“Do you know the sex shop in the next street but one?”
“I should coco.”
“A horny guy. A most handsome horny guy. Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize dildo that was hanging up there, the big one?”
“What the one big as my arm?”
“You are a d
elightful stud. Yes that one.”
“It hangs there now.”
“Go and buy it.”
“What the fuck?”
“I am in earnest. Go and buy it and tell them to bring it here. Come back with another man and I’ll give you a shilling and let you give me a White Christmas. Come in less than a minute when you return and I’ll make it half a crown and anal.”
The man was off like a shot. “I’ll send it to Bob Fuckwit to use on his wife,” whispered Carol, laughing. “They won’t know who sent it and it’s twice the size of Teeny Tit.”
Shaving her pussy was not an easy task for her hand shook as she tried to masturbate simultaneously. The hand in which she wrote the address was not a steady one as she fingered herself throughout but write it she did and then went down to open the door. As she stood there a woman passed, the knockers catching her eye.
“I shall fuck as long as I live,” said Carol patting them with her hand, making the woman giggle and blush with surprise. “Madam you have wonderful knockers. I’m about to have sex with two men. Care to join us? Merry Christmas! Here’s the dildo.”
It was a magnificent sex toy. Carol ushered the two men and the woman inside, taking their names as they went, their hands already on her naked body.
The woman, Liz, stripped in no time at all and together she embraced Carol whilst the men, Ben and Tony, stood watching in eager aroused excitement. Carol disrobed both men, taking a cock in each hand whilst Liz began to finger her. The lust inside her grew until she could wait no longer. The dildo was pushed into her pussy whilst she sucked on one cock and then the other, all the time wanting more and more. The sex toy was so huge and it stretched her such that she gaped when it withdrew, only shrinking as a cock slid into her pussy. Another went in her mouth and she rocked between them, moaning and writhing in ecstasy which only intensified when Liz pushed a finger into her posterior.
All holes filled, she felt as if all her dreams were coming true, her body shuddering as someone rubbed her clit. The cock in her mouth came first, spunk pouring onto her tongue. Tony withdrew and was replaced by Liz, her pussy clamping onto Carol’s face. Ben slid his cock out of her pussy and moved it upwards, easing his way into her ass as he pushed the dildo into the recently vacated hole. She tasted Liz and it tasted of nectar, sweeter than any sugar to be found in the country. She brought the woman to orgasm in a short time before her face was buried in the stranger’s boobs to take part in a tale of two titties whilst Ben behind her grunted and sped up his thrusts.
Someone rubbed her clit in just the right way and at the moment that Ben spunked into her ass, she came. Oh but what an orgasm it was. For so long she’d ignored the calling of her body, refusing to entertain the thought of masturbation. The night of arousal and excitement had sent her ardour to fever pitch levels and now she finally reached the conclusion she’d needed for so long, she almost passed out from the strength of it.
Her whole body shook and trembled, her mouth wide open, her eyes glazed over. Her pussy spasmed again and again around the enormous dildo, the cock in her ass gripped in place as cum spurted into her hole.
She collapsed to the floor, hardly able to breathe as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. The others could only wait until she had recovered and it took such time that they were on the verge of calling for medical assistance before she finally rolled over and grinned at them all. “Please sirs,” she said. “I want some more.”
The morning wore on and they wore her out until at last, sweat soaked and covered in cum, she sat up and bid the men to take the dildo to Bob Fuckwit’s house. She dressed in her best and went out into the street. The people were pouring forth and she regarded all with a smile and a kind word.
She had not gone far when she beheld the two gentlemen who had walked into her counting house the day before. It sent a pang through her pussy to think of the cocks they had shown her.
“My dear sirs,” she said, taking them both by the hand and bringing them up to play with her breasts down a side alley. “A merry Christmas to you both.”
“Miss Christmas?”
“Yes, that is my name and I ask your pardon. Here, take this bundle of notes and buy the paupers their sex toys.”
“Miss Christmas, are you serious?”
“Not a farthing less. Do me that favour.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Come in me. Will you come in me?”
“I will!” cried the gentlemen in unison and it was clear they meant it. In sight of anyone who glanced their way, Carol lifted her skirt to expose her shaved pussy and lack of panties. She bent over and pressed her hands to the wall, pulling apart her ass cheeks and inviting them to indulge in a hole each.
They pulled her onto them, one man lying on his back and pushing his cock into her pussy. The other climbed on her back and slid into her posterior, trapping her between them as they thrust up into her, filling her completely as her clit rubbed on the pelvis under her, bringing her to one climax after another. She was exhausted but laughing by the time they both came, two lots of spunk shooting into her and dribbling back out as she made her way along the road. “Bless you both,” she called back to them.
In no time at all she reached her step-nephew’s house. She knocked on the door and a maid answered. “Is your master at home?”
“Yes miss.”
“Where is he?” Carol asked, leaning forwards and kissing the maid. She blinked in surprise before returning the embrace and in a minute they were rolling on the floor in the doorway, hands up skirts, tongues in mouths, bodies burning with heat. Carol plunged her fingers into the maid’s pussy and in return the maid toyed with her clit until she reached a shuddering orgasm, returning the favour with her tongue before passing in and on to the dining room.
“Fred!” said Carol as she stepped inside.
How the man and wife started at the sight of her bedraggled hair and rosy cheeks, her dress askew, her boobs spilling out of her top.
“Who is that?” asked Fred.
“It is I, your unrelated step-aunt who is not related to you.”
“Why does she keep saying unrelated?” asked the wife.
“Because it makes this perfectly acceptable behaviour,” said Carol, whipping off her dress and diving on Fred. She had his cock out in a minute and jerked him and fucked him and sucked him whilst his wife masturbated furiously in observation of the events unfolding. Carol brought the good woman to orgasm with her tongue, bent over with Fred in her pussy. Once this was achieved she turned and insisted he give her a White Christmas, her tongue outstretched as he ran his hand along his shaft, spraying cum over her face in no time at all whilst she laughed heartily.
She spent the day with the pair and returned home barely able to walk. Yet still she was early at the whorehouse the next day, fucking each of the whores and then paying them handsomely for the privilege before insisting they only fuck for pleasure in future, giving them enough funds to go where they would and do whatever and whoever they wanted. The clock struck nine and then quarter past. Finally in came Bob fully eighteen minutes later. Carol sat and scowled at him as he entered. “What do you mean by arriving so late in the day?”
“I am sorry miss for being behind my time.”
“You are? Step this way sir if you please.”
“It is only once a year and shall not be repeated. My wife insisted on a bit of anal before I set off this morning.”
“I tell you what,” said Carol. “I’ll not stand for this any longer. Therefore I am going to raise your salary and raise the angle of your cock.”
Bob trembled and staggered. He had a momentary idea of calling for a straitjacket for Carol as she cried, “Give me the whitest of white Christmas,” she cried, clapping him on the back. “I’ll raise your salary so you can assist your family. Now make up the fire and buy another coal scuttle and then get your clothes off posthaste.
In no length of time Carol was riding Bob’s
cock by a roaring inferno, sweat running down them both. His hands played with her boobs, squeezing her nipples whilst she ran her nails down his chest, bouncing on his shaft until she came again and again. By her third orgasm she could barely speak and when she felt him on the edge, she moved her face to the tip of his cock and enjoyed the White Christmas she had wished for.
She did it over and over that day and no work was conducted that was not sexual. She became a good lover to all men and all women in the town, the city and the country. Some laughed to see how she altered but she cared not, she only cared about where her next climax was coming from.
She had no further intercourse with spirits but lived upon the try anything principle ever afterwards and it was always said of her that she was the cause of every White Christmas forevermore, her ardour bringing pleasure and her enjoyment of sex being without shame or embarrassment no matter how strange the requests or how eccentric her partners. May that be truly said of us all and all of us and as the spirits would observe, let the odd fuck us, every one!
Shelly Homes and the Red Pubed League
I called upon my friend Miss Shelly Homes one day in the autumn of last her and found her in deep intercourse with a very stout florid faced elderly gentlewoman with fiery red pubic hair.
With an apology for my intrusion I was about to withdraw when Homes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.
“You could not possibly have come at a better time my dear Watson,” he said cordially.
“I was afraid you were wrist deep.”
“So I am. Very much so.”
“Then I should wait in the next room.”
“Not at all. This gentleman, Miss Wilson has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful sexual encounters and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in this one also.”
The stout lady half rose from the chair and gave a bob of greeting with a quick little questioning glance from her small fat encircled eyes.
“Try the pussy,” said Homes, relapsing into her armchair and putting her fingertips together as was her custom when in aroused moods.
