A Festive Fucking

The time of year it's entirely appropriate for a man to empty his sack into a stocking

‘Twas a few nights before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
But that’s not strictly true, as something *was* stirring,
For under a duvet a vibrator was whirring.
I was attempting to relieve my frustration,
By applying some liberal clitoral stimulation.
Though I was having success, and my toes they did twitch,
It just wasn’t enough to fully scratch the itch.
I sought something more substantial in my Christmas stocking,
To put it quite bluntly, I needed a cock-ing.
For a festive family gathering is great, with one snag,
It presents next to no opportunities to shag.
I’d been home for three days; a Christmas vacation,
And my sex life had halted, a total cessation.
Until then I’d been active, after all, ‘tis the season,
Not that I needed to justify the reason.
In short, I was horny. I needed some action,
To get out and find some mutual attraction.
So despite the later hour, and my family all sleeping,
Out of the house I found myself creeping.
(It wasn’t that late. Perhaps just gone twelve?
Certainly enough time for my plans not to shelve)
Wrapped up in layers, looking quite the sight,
I ventured out into the cold winter’s night…

​

Now my parents they lived in a quaint English village,
Far from a bastion of loot, rape and pillage.
It offered *one* option for social interaction,
A solitary place where my plans may gain traction.
So huffing and puffing, I passed the golf club,
And headed towards the old village pub.
Now for those unaware a ‘pub’ is like an old bar,
And could look quite similar, glanced from afar.
But a bar is for young folk; an iniquity den,
While usually pubs are just full of old men.
So I hoped and I prayed that I’d not be in limbo,
And some others from Uni might have come home for Crimbo.

Entering the establishment my hopes started to fade,
The average incumbent older by many a decade.
And worse, as I entered, I was met with a cheer,
And calls of ‘Oh look, young Alice is here!’
This was the place of my childhood home,
So I was known by many, before I set off on my own.
I immediately wrote off my plans for a quickie,
For to do so in here would be more than tricky.
So I sat and I chatted with old neighbours and friends,
Hoping my horniness, the quaintness, would cleanse.
And it would have worked, had I not glanced from afar,
An attractive young man, stood behind the bar…

​To save all your sanity, I’ll now skip ahead,
To when things started heading toward a shared bed.

​

The evening passed by, with laughter and booze,
And soon all the all old men returned home to snooze.
But I wasn’t for sleeping. I stayed till the end,
Determined to make at least one new friend.
The young man was Jack, his Dad owned the place,
But all I could picture was riding his face.
As we’d been chatting, I’d been very flirty,
A polite way of saying I’d been very dirty.
There could be no doubt as to my intention,
Intending my words to provoke an erection.
As the pub emptied he asked me to stay,
I could have one final drink and help him tidy away.
Not that this happened, for as he closed the door,
I leapt on him quicker than a Christmas time whore.

​We kissed and we groped and fuck me he was hung,
But I wanted to sample the skills of his tongue.
In no time time at all my knickers did drop,
And he lifted me up onto the bar top.
I parted my legs as far as the taps would permit,
And pulled his face forward right onto my clit.
To my delight, Jack had some skill,
His tongue working magic right up until,
He pulled back his head, said “My turn next, is it?”
I just about slapped the cocky little shit.
“Make me cum first, give me my ‘O’,
Then you’ll get yours, when it’s mine turn to blow!”
To his credit he smiled and got straight back to work,
His tongue like a snake, an odd little quirk.
In no time at all, I felt my whole body tingle,
In seasonal terms; my bells started to jingle.
My thighs gripped him tight, holding him in place,
As perched on the bar I came on his face.
Jack stepped back, job done, looking so smug,
So down came his trousers, it was my turn to tug!

​Jack had a large cock, of that there was no doubt,
Proportionally it was long *and also* quite stout.
But that didn’t at all phase your heroine Alice,
As I set to my work, as if almost with malice.
First I was teasing, just sliding my tongue,
From the tip of his cock to the perineum,
He liked his balls played with, of that I took note,
So I kept a firm hold, as his cock hit my throat.
My tongue worked its magic as my lips gripped his shaft,
Blowjobs an area where I’ve honed up my craft.
But before I can finish; confound my luck,
He pulls back my head, says; “I want to fuck!”
(For clarity here, I wasn’t very annoyed,
I just like to know my skills are enjoyed)

​I pull off some layers, ’till I’m in just my bra,
At which point we panic, as outside passes a car.
There was no need to worry, it was just passing by,
So we get back to work, a hungry look in Jack’s eye,
He sucked on my tits, but he wasn’t that fussy,
All he really wanted to do was get in my pussy.
So I leant on a bar stool, and over I bent,
Within seconds inside me is where his cock went.
He held onto my hips as he fucked from behind,
I pushed back against him, and my arse I did grind.

It didn’t take long; he was already close,
And I didn’t help things by being verbose.
But there’s one final thing before calling it quits,
What he really wants to do is to cum on my tits,
I slide off his cock, and kneel to the south,
Preparing to make the final moves with my mouth.
But in that same instant, as though it was planned,
His cock just starts cumming right there in my hand.
It sprays me all over, splattering face tits and tum,
Had I not spun around, he’d have made a real mess on my bum.
He stands there panting, as though quite in shock,
While I dutifully tongue bath, and suck clean his cock.
I then depart to the bathroom, my face quite the scowl,
To suffer the indignity of wiping down with paper towel.
When I return he’s cleaning the bar,
It seems some of his cum had splattered quite far.
I leave him to it, as I start to dress.
Quietly enjoying how we’d made such a mess.
“Will I see you again?” he asks, masking his sorrow,
“I think there’s a chance I may return tomorrow…”
The words having been spoken, and with glint in my eye,
I pull on my jacket and wave Jack a goodbye.

And thus ends my story, a festive delight,
So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night…