Naughty Little Elf (5)

I was still draped over Nick’s chest, limp and glowing, every muscle humming from the way they’d just wrecked me. Their cum leaked slowly and warmly down my thighs, thick and sticky, a filthy reminder of how thoroughly they’d claimed me on this throne. The fairy lights twinkled lazily above us, casting red and green shadows over sweat-slick skin, the grotto still heavy with the scent of sex and pine.

Marcus’s fingers traced lazy, filthy circles on my inner thigh, teasing higher each time, brushing the sticky mess between my legs. When he grazed my swollen clit, I jolted with an oversensitive gasp, hips twitching.

“Still needy?” he teased, voice low and amused, already knowing the answer.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head against Nick’s neck. “No way. You two destroyed me. I can’t take another…”

Nick’s hand slid down my spine, cupping my ass possessively, squeezing the tender flesh. “Liar,” he murmured against my temple, lips brushing my skin. “I can feel your little pussy clenching every time we talk dirty. Still fluttering like she wants more.”

He wasn’t wrong. Aftershocks kept rippling through me, tiny sparks that made me ache even though I was sore and spent.

Marcus dipped lower, gathering the slick mix of their cum and my own wetness on two fingers, spreading it over my folds in slow, deliberate strokes. “So fucking soaked,” he said, almost reverent. “Look at this mess we made. Our cum dripping out of your greedy holes. Fucking beautiful.”

I whimpered, hips shifting instinctively into his touch. My clit throbbed under the lightest graze.

Nick shifted beneath me, spreading his thighs wider so I was fully open to Marcus’s hand. “Let him play, baby,” he whispered, voice dark and coaxing. “Let us make you squirt for us. One more time before you go home. Give us everything.”

The word *squirt* sent a fresh rush of heat through me. I’d only done it once before, alone, with a toy and it had scared me how intense it felt. But with them? I wanted it. I wanted to lose control completely.

Marcus slid two fingers into me easily thanks to how stretched and sloppy I already was. He curled them slowly, searching, until he found that spot deep inside that made my breath hitch.

“There it is,” he murmured, pressing firmly. “Right there, baby girl.”

Nick’s hand joined in, thumb circling my clit in tight, steady strokes while Marcus pumped his fingers in and out, building pressure with every curl.

“Oh fuck! wait…” I gasped, already overwhelmed. It was too much, too soon after the last orgasm. My body felt raw, every nerve ending on fire.

“No waiting,” Nick growled softly, nipping my earlobe. “You’re gonna give it to us. Gonna soak Santa’s throne like the filthy little elf you are.”

Marcus sped up, fingers thrusting faster, curling harder against that spot while Nick rubbed my clit relentlessly. The pressure built quickly, unlike before, deeper, and more urgent. I could feel it swelling inside me, a heavy, aching fullness that made my thighs tremble.

“Marcus… Nick… I can’t, it’s too…”

“You can,” Marcus said, voice rough with lust. “Let go, baby girl. Squirt all over our hands. Show us how good we make you feel.”

I tried to fight it, embarrassed by how loud I was getting, how my hips were bucking uncontrollably. But they didn’t let up. Nick pinched my clit lightly, Marcus added a third finger, stretching me again, and the pressure snapped.

I screamed.

The orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave. It was sharper, wetter, and different from the others. My pussy clamped down on Marcus’s fingers as I gushed, squirting hard in messy, forceful spurts that soaked his hand, Nick’s lap, the velvet throne beneath us. Wave after wave of liquid heat pulsed out, dripping down Nick’s thighs, pooling in the creases of the red cushion.

“Holy fuck—yes, that’s it,” Nick groaned, holding me tight as I shook violently, sobbing through the aftershocks.

Marcus kept thrusting through it, drawing it out until I was boneless, tears streaming down my cheeks from the intensity. “Good girl,” he praised, voice thick. “Look at you. Squirting like a fucking fountain. So perfect.”

When it finally ebbed, I collapsed fully against Nick, trembling. My body felt wrung out, empty, utterly spent.

Marcus withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean while watching me with dark eyes. “Taste yourself,” he said, offering the glistening fingers to my lips.

I sucked them obediently, tasting the salty, musky mix of all three of us. Filthy. Perfect.

Nick kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my tear-streaked face. “You’re incredible,” he whispered. “We’re never letting you go.”

I smiled weakly, still floating. “Good. Because I’m yours.”

Marcus chuckled, wiping his hand on his discarded tunic before helping Nick ease me upright. My legs were jelly, cum and squirt dripping down my thighs in thick, sticky rivulets. I didn’t care. I felt claimed. Ruined. Owned.

They dressed me gently. Nick slid my tank top back on, Marcus helping with my shorts, both of them stealing kisses and touches the whole time. Fingers brushing my nipples, thumbs swiping over my swollen lips, low murmurs of praise.

When we finally stood, the throne was ruined. Dark, wet patches stained the red velvet, an unmistakable evidence of what we’d done. Puddles of my squirt mixed with their cum glistened under the fairy lights.

Marcus grinned. “Definitely burning it.”

Nick wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Or keeping it in my garage. For memories.”

I laughed softly, leaning into them both as we walked toward the exit. Snow was still falling outside, fat flakes drifting past the glass doors. The cold air hit my flushed skin like a slap, making me shiver.

Nick tugged me tighter against his side. “You okay, baby?”

I nodded, biting my lip. “More than okay.”

We stepped out into the quiet night, the world hushed under fresh snow. I looked up at them, Nick’s beard still dusted with glitter from my elf costume, Marcus’s hair mussed, both of them looking wrecked and satisfied.

They didn’t say goodbye. They just kissed me again, one on each side of my mouth then turned back toward the grotto to clean up.

I stood there alone for a moment, thighs still sticky, body still humming, snowflakes catching in my hair.

And in my head, I whispered to you, the ones who’ve been reading every filthy second of this:

*Merry Christmas, folks. I’ve already gotten my perfect Christmas gift tonight. What’s gonna be your filthy Christmas gift?*