My favorite thing about Christmas is not just the day itself. Sure, I’ve always loved spending the day with family and drinking spiked eggnog while watching Chevy Chase and Randy Quaid in National Lampoons Christmas Vacation (“Clark, we’re stuck under a truck!”). I also love finding thoughtful presents under the tree for me. And of course, I absolutely love, love, love giving gifts to my man, if you know what I mean (and I know that you do, don’t you, Sparky?). But more than any of that is the fact that it’s a season filled with whimsical joy, and a pleasant social fragrance.
I enjoy the idea of you and me, in a luxurious hotel that’s bustling with business in the midst of Christmas week. It’s almost dinner time, and we still haven’t decided if we’re going to order room service or get dressed up and go out. We decide to punt the decision for an hour or so when I ask you when the last time you took a bath was.
Moments later, and we’re alone in an opulent hot tub that is brimming with warm, bubbly, splendor. We’re sitting together with our bodies pressed against the back of tub wall, candles are flickering in the room, and Nora Jones is crooning romantic holiday as we sink deeply into, us. It’s the quintessential honeymoon setting, but I just call it Saturday night with Yours Truly (wink*). Your arm is around me; my head is resting on your shoulder. My hand has been gently caressing your inner thigh, taking great care not to make any physical contact with your cock or balls.
It’s hard for me (pun intended?) to maintain the willpower not to reach over and take your raging erection into my hand. But I resist, and for that your heartbeat thumps loudly with anticipation, your blood is flowing to your manhood at a rapid pace just beneath the water’s surface. I stare down at it through the foamy bubbles. It looks like an extraordinary sculpture that has been chiseled and formed to absolute perfection.
“So, what are you getting me for Christmas, my love?” I ask you. I’m being a bit playful because you certainly don’t need to give me a gift that comes in a box all tied up in a pretty red bow. The fact that you’re treating us to this sentimentally sublime stay at the Ritz Carlton is present enough. But there’s also that part of me that wants more. And I’m willing to seduce you before asking you for it. I like wielding this power of you.
Imagine you’re standing before me, naked as the day you were born, while I’m sitting facing you. I take your balls in my hand and strum them with my fingertips for a moment. It doesn’t take long for you to evolve into my malleable pet. It’s with this mood in mind that I ask if you were going to play Santa again for me this year.
“Ashlee, I uh— “but I press two fingers to your lips, signifying that I’m not interested in hearing you speak. It’s then that I reach for your rigid cock. When the palm of my hand makes skin to skin contact, you moan in ecstasy. When my fingers wrap around your thick shaft your hips instinctively thrust forward. When my thumb massages the mushroom head of your cock, your entire body convulses. “I need you, Ashlee. Take whatever you want from me. Do whatever you want to do. Please just pump my cock, please!” you plead.
But baby, that’s all I wanted for Christmas. I wanted to know that I turn you on so much that you’re willingly to give me everything. I don’t want for much in this world (being as hot as I am, there’s not many things that I have to wish for). So, what do you gift me with this Christmas? The answer is time. I don’t need to confiscate your Christmas morning with your family.
Your White Christmas Awaits You…
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