Kinky Christmas Novels & Stories

I feel an arm go round my waist and I'm pulled to sit on Damien's legs. "Now, you Mrs Forrest, has been a very naughty girl lately" he whispers in my ear and I feel a smile creep up on my face. "What are you going to do about it Santa?" I hum. "I might just have a special candy for you to suck on" He smirks and I chuckle before pulling his face for a kiss. His hands go to squeeze my bum making me smile against his kiss. We pull apart grinning, when we noticed a small figure standing by the corner. We both turn to see Roxy looking at us with his eyes wide opened. I bite on my lips. We're fucked! "Why is Santa kissing mommy, and not daddy?" He puzzles. Merry-fucking-Christmas The Very End

She cocked out her hip and sucked lazily on a candycane, those bright eyes of hers wandering over my now steely dick. "How's this? Do you like your naughty Christmas slut tonight?" Katie purred, tracing her lips with the candy cane. I was speechless for once – well, she'd been able to do it to me before, but this time really tied down my tongue. "Mmmm, looks like I'm not the only naughty one here, huh?" Criss-crossing her steps, Katie sauntered onto the edge of the bed and crawled up like a cat. She'd watched too many strip dance movies with me – or maybe just enough. "Ohhh yeah, you're definitely on my naughty list with this big bare cock..." She grasped it and ran her lithe fingers down my

Her mother busied herself in the kitchen, pointedly not asking for help. Ayana found herself alone in the living room, staring at the Christmas tree and wondering how two weeks had already become an eternity. "You shouldn't do that." She spun. Nelson stood in the doorway, his expression dark, conflicted. He'd rolled up his sleeves, exposing corded forearms that had no business being that distracting. "Do what?" "You know exactly what." He stepped closer but stopped short of entering the room, like an invisible line held him back. "Walking around dressed like... looking at me like..."

Jennifer chuckled and retorted mockingly, "CEO? Do you really think she became CEO through her own abilities? Without Jeremiah and me backing her up, she's just a useless loser." Charles looked at Jennifer in disbelief. His eyes were filled with shock and anger. Annoyed by the noise, I told the bodyguards to drag the two of them farther away. I crouched alone by the seaside. The winter wind blowing from the ocean was icy and piercing. Little by little, I scattered Noelle's ashes into the sea. I said softly, "Today is Christmas, Noelle. It's also the day you were born. I'm letting you return to the ocean."

For a lot of things, in addition to this hellacious debt she’s incurred, for which I’ve dutifully assumed responsibility. And then there’s this teeny, tiny, absurdly naughty part of me that forces me to shift my mental attention from the horror note that is a ticking time bomb, back to the questionnaire that’s staring me in the face. This is no arbitrary sex questionnaire. This is the crucial final phase of the interview process for the Kinky Kris Kringle Christmas Auction. A highly exclusive, private, invitation-only affair I accidentally stumbled upon while inadvertently ripping open a “Personal and Confidential” envelope on my boss’s desk.

By the time Yves Golding got home, it was already midnight. I was lying in bed, staring at a photo of him and Melissa Lane. His abs showed faintly beneath his red Santa suit as she leaned against them, eyes shyly closed. Their colleagues had left comments below the post, saying that they were a perfect match and that Yves was quite bold. Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!"

And those white whiskers and long, flowing beard…I shudder just to think of those whiskers tickling me in soft and pink places. But it’s just a fantasy. I mean, Santa isn’t real, right? So it’s not like I’m going to get what I want on my Christmas list anytime soon. 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.

"Christmas, I never heard of anyone use an alias as Christmas, Duke. What does this 'Christmas' do to make us take the benefit in this case?" Duke lifted his hand and claps it once. "This is what I'm talking about. So, this Mr. Christmas is one of Klyde McMarrow's client who buys smuggled women from everywhere and then he'll auction it to them. He's this kettle looking guy, you know what I mean? Bald, short and fat, he has this annoying laugh and he's in love eating this bread wherever he goes, he has it in his pocket and much it like a 2 year old kid." Duke began with gestures he uses and is not that really necessary.

“Oh, as if you don’t know how high society uses months to plan a simple party. If it’s taking four weeks to plan Thanksgiving, how long do you think they’ve been planning Christmas?” “Yeah, you’re right. I watched an episode of KUWTK and Kris Jenner admitted to using six months to plan the Christmas party,” I shuddered at the thought of all the details that would go into the planning. Meanwhile, Funke gave me a double-meaning knowing smile. “What? You don’t think I’d be doing this soon, do you?” I asked incredulously and she shrugged. “Who knows, maybe that’s why you’ve been watching every episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. To prepare you for those days, I mean, you are marrying a b

“We were told to ask if you wanted it stored or disposed of.” “Oh, get rid of it,” she replied eager for them to leave so that she could discover the contents of the boxes they hadn’t unpacked. “Kinky Christmas,” she added as she closed and locked the door behind them. “Let’s see what daddy Santa has bought for me.” Lots and lots of sex toys was the answer, she discovered. Vibrators in all shapes, colors, and function, a harness, padded restraints, and other bondage equipment that she was only vaguely familiar with. She began to unpack them from their wrapping and positioning them in the armoire, along with the different types of lube, trying ignore the heated