Christmas Stories Adults Novels & Stories

“You have a grandmother?” “Yes, but back to santa. I do believe him, and he comes in the New Year with a female sidekick called the Snowmaiden,” Alexander told her. ‘But you can celebrate Christmas any way you want while you’re with me. I didn’t even know the festival existed until I went to live with my grandmother.”

Whenever I asked my mom why Santa never showed up at our house or gave me gifts at Christmas, she would simply say I was a naughty kid, and Santa never gave gifts to naughty children. And maybe she was right. I did a lot of bad things growing up. I know I did. But I changed as I got older, and still, Santa never came. He never brought me any gifts for Christmas. So I started to believe he hated me. Or maybe he just wasn’t real. Yes, he wasn’t real. That was the conclusion I came to—it was the only logical reason. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t care about Santa, gifts, or Christmas.

he whispered in her ear then he backed away a few steps and misted away. Damien looked down at Gretchen's worried face. He'd have to tell her eventually, but now wasn't the time.Things were in motion now that couldn't be stopped. He turned her around then started back to the fire. “So, tell me about Christmas. What do you do? How does it work?” Gretchen crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.“How does it work? It’s a holiday." Damien put his arm around Gretchen.“Yes, my love, I know that. What do we need to do to have it?”

3rd January, 1999(morning) The Warehouse Lana Its a never ending circle. A repeated sequence I experience everyday, locked up in this room with little or no contact. A hollow feeling in my heart whenever I think about my family, the grief I feel whenever I remember those who died in that bloody Christmas party.

Sometimes it was better to let things play out. “Mm. Old man Cabbage asked me to come over today. He says the weird noises are back.” Old man Cabbage was the oldest man in the village at ninety-three years old, yet he was a fit as a fiddle. He lived alone in an extremely old house that creaked even more than the orphanage. His wife died a long time ago and unfortunately they never had any children of their own. After Anderson and Carson went over a few times to help fix certain things in his house, he took a great liking to them both. He considered them his children and grandson. Understanding that, both young men could not bring themselves to charge the old man. The old man insisted on payi

Part One: Eyes of the Wolf Jamie Dalton lifted the grocery bag filled with Halloween candy and took a moment to inhale the aroma drifting from it. For most people Christmas was their favorite holiday but Jamie had always loved Halloween. From the time she was nine years old she made up fanciful stories about the night, stories of goblins and ghosts and all manner of creatures. As she got older the stories became more intricate, the characters more detailed. By the time she was an adult she was weaving in erotic scenes and drooling over the heroines she created.

“Makes Christmas sound a lot more interesting.” I leaned back in my chair, coffee in hand. “You’re assuming your family celebrates Christmas instead of holding an annual shareholders’ meeting.” “We do both.” “I don’t believe you.” “My grandmother once gave my uncle a quarterly financial report in his stocking.” I stared at him, trying to decide if he was serious. “You’re lying.” “I wish.” I nearly choked on my hot chocolate, and Dean looked far too pleased with himself as he reached for the jam like he hadn’t just casually redefined holiday traditions.

I've been ignoring him, but his persistence is becoming problematic. I deleted the message without reading it. The Christmas gala is in two days. The annual event where the city's elite gather to see and be seen, to make deals and alliances over champagne and caviar. I'll need to bring Ava, show her off as my devoted wife, maintain the illusion that everything is fine. She'll smile and play her part because she has no choice. Because I've made sure she has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. And I'll stand beside her, touching her waist, playing the role of perfect husband, hating myself a little more with every passing moment.

I signed for the plain brown box quickly, trying not to look too eager and carried it straight up to my room, locking the door behind me. I sat on the bed and tore the package open. My new thick veiny dildo, it was even bigger and more realistic than I expected, two slutty lingerie sets…one black sheer babydoll and one tiny red crotchless teddy, the upgraded ring light and the sturdy tripod. My pussy clenched just looking at it all. I was soaked again. I snapped a quick photo of the opened box and sent it to HotFantasy88. **Me:** It came. Look what I got 😳 The big one is huge. I’m so horny right now after all that stress.

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As