[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: firstname.lastname@example.org]
“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch. She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else. We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).
“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.
We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past. It was COVID Christmas. No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.
We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night. Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up. It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.
We were determined to make the day as special as we could. Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.
“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.
“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.
She immediately knew what it was. She opened it extremely carefully. The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened. It looked magical in the dimly lit room. The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.
“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss. “How did you know?”
She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery. All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.
“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.
“Yes, there is. Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”
A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.
She was wearing a new red satin negligée. “My Santa suit. Second only to my birthday suit.” She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.
“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.
“You know what they say.”
“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long. Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”
“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.
“You’re not hard to please. You know that?”
“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”
“Show me! Let me drink your eggnog.”
“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.
“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”
“Oh no, Lo. I can’t make a descent woman out of you. You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”
“True. But you know, either way, I’m happy. Deep, deep inside, I’m happy. And you can be too.”
“No, deep, deep inside me.”
She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her. “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”
I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.
I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”
As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.
Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.
Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.
Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”
“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”
“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours? Never mind. I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.
As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account. There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts — a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.
It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.
After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder. Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.
“What?” I asked.
“No, it’s something Lo. What is it?”
“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”
“Well, it’s the next-best-thing. They’re emails about you. Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”
“Exactly! And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.
Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”
“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”
“That wasn’t egomaniacal. That was a gift to humanity.”
“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”
“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”
“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.
“Why? What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.
“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”
“What are you open to doing?”
“Well, after I do myself.”
Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”
“While you jill it?”
“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”
“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”
“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”
“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”
She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.
Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.
As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”
“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”
“I mean a free book for fans.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake. “Sure. Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Photos are also welcome,” she added. “Now do me, Daddy. I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”
“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”
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