Kinky Christmas Novels & Stories

When Noah Levine came back, Christmas had already passed. I'd thrown that reindeer lingerie into a street trash bin. "Babe, I left in such a rush last night that I forgot to give you your Christmas present." He pulled out a sapphire necklace and swept my hair aside to fasten it around my neck. Because he leaned in so close, I could clearly see the red marks on his neck and smell the sickly sweet perfume that obviously wasn't his. Knowing the scent belonged to my own sister made my stomach turn.

He was tall, really tall for a Santa Claus, that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were an icy gray that seemed to bare my soul, uncovering every hidden secret before his eyes. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the way those eyes made me feel, something so distinct yet I couldn't put my hands on it. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his deep baritone causing my heart to thrum so loudly in my chest I could only stand there and gawk like a damn fool.

She even made me wear long heels. It was dark inside. The flickering Christmas lights only did little to illuminate the space. It was cold too. Too cold, but nobody seemed to care. My eyes fell on the giant Christmas tree by the door. For the first time in my life, the sight of a Christmas tree tugged at my guilt. I was still staring at its bright colored red and green ribbons when someone suddenly grabbed it, yanking it off its stand. Then two n***d sweaty bodies came crashing against the glass door.

At least that’s what I thought… It was Christmas Eve and I’d spent it with my girlfriends, drinking wine and getting lit talking about girl stuff and the subject inevitably turned to sex, as it always does when the girls get to drinking, and I, sort of, admitted my secret fantasy. They were just drunk enough to think I was being kinky and laughed it off. One friend suggested I screw the mall Santa — which was really gross; that guy was a lecherous drunk — and another suggested I get an ex-boyfriend to dress up as the Jolly guy in exchange for some hot ex-sex. I laughed with them and we drank more wine but an idea had begun in my chardonnay-soaked brain that by the time I got home, I just had

Mark tugged on the Santa belt like a leash, pulling me off the couch and down onto the soft carpet in front of the Christmas tree. The twinkling lights bathed everything in red and gold, reflecting off the wrapped presents scattered across the floor. My knees hit the plush rug first, the tiny red skirt still bunched around my waist, nipples throbbing from his earlier bites. “On your back,” he commanded, voice thick with need. “Right on the presents. I want to fuck you while you’re surrounded by all this holiday bullshit.”

not something I would wear to work under normal circumstances, but I need to amp up the sex appeal; if he can play dirty, so can I I put on my most sexy black lace lingerie... not that he is going to see that, but to make me feel more sexy and up for the task. Then I put on a skimpy very tight leather skirt ... normally I would always wear leggings underneath, but not today. Uh I still have to remember that this is my job, and there will be other people, so I have to pull a little back on the shirt, nothing low cut... I pick out a tight fitting white tank top that says 'let's get naughty and spare Santa a trip'.

I placed the box in my spare room and swore I would never open it again. I lasted a week. Kinky is wrapping an unattached braid of hair around my hand and getting a hard-on. Kinky is bringing the hair to my nose and picturing a woman hanging from the ceiling with my best friend kissing her. Kinky is imagining my hands running through her remaining short strands and holding her tight while Monroe fucks her mouth. Kinky is dreaming about the three of us writhing together in a mass of sweaty, gleaming flesh.

And what I want tonight is to blow off some serious steam. I just wrapped a twelve-hour shoot doing a solo scene for a Christmas special. Lots of candy canes and ornaments and me touching myself in increasingly creative positions. It was hot—I got myself off three times for real—but it left me wound up and wanting more. So here I am at the most exclusive Christmas Eve party in the city, scanning the crowd for someone—or someones—to help me celebrate the holiday properly. The music's loud, bass thumping, and everyone's already drunk and handsy. I love it.

My thighs shook, nails digging into his chest. He followed seconds later, groaning low and deep, hips bucking as he came inside me, filling me with heat. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me down against his chest, holding me there while we both caught our breath. The Christmas lights twinkled above us. Home Alone played on, Kevin’s victory music swelling in the background. Jack kissed my temple, voice soft and wrecked. “Merry Christmas, Mara.” I smiled against his neck, still trembling. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

Dawn said excitedly. Kevin laughed, and said, "Oh, I can't wait to see that letter to Santa! Dear Santa: Please bring my whole family a trip to Fantasy Cay so we can all fuck and suck together. I have been a very naughty girl all year, and want to be even naughtier. Love, Dawn." They all laughed, and as Vickie expanded the video screen, again, she said, "I always do have a hard time figuring out what to get you two for Christmas."