'Twas the night before Christmas, and Angela dressed to please before leaving the flat. She took one last look at the picture on the sideboard, smiles of joy beamed back at her. She picked it up, turned it around and replaced it. Her dear John letter rested against the frame, destined to be read whenever her husband came home from work.

Her lips curled up at the side, and then she was gone.

She walked with determination in her step, the clip-clop of her heels lost to the noise from the maddening crowds. She rested for a while, looking out over the river that snaked its way through the city. A frosty breeze caught at the folds of her pussy, because despite her thick coat, Angela never believed in wearing knickers on such occasions.

She could see the warm glow inside the Lamb and Flag public house as she approached it. She imagined the music playing in the back room, the bustling conversations with everyone relating bawdy tales to the clink-clink of glasses. The decorated Christmas tree filled one of the two windows and she watched the flickering lights.

She sat on the bench outside, looking at the changing façade as people entered and left. Sudden sounds spilt onto the streets as a group of people poured out to have a smoke.

She opened her legs to let the breeze caress her nether regions. She liked the cold hitting her hot skin.

More people exited the pub. She noticed one in particular, pulling a Santa’s hat from his head and looking up into the sky; probably hoping for inspiration.  Well, here she was!

Angela stared at him and hooked her arm over the back of the bench so that her long black coat parted to show off her legs. She caught his eye.

His first thought was how strange it was to see a woman dressed as she was, sitting on a bench, on her own, opposite a bustling pub. He was rooted to the spot, his eyes watching and his thoughts wondering.

She smiled, bit her lip for effect and stood up. He watched her grasp her coat, pull the two halves apart and shake her shoulders, flashing him her lacy underwear. She followed it up by blowing him a kiss. Surely, that would get him to move.

He looked over his shoulder and then stepped towards Angela. She followed suit, purely to half the waiting time.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“Not yet!” replied Angela.

“I’m Nick,” he held out his hand.

“Really? I believe you,” she replied, she lifted her hand to shake his.

“I’m the ghost of Christmas parties,” she informed him. “The one that everyone wants to fuck but everyone is too scared to ask.”

Nick nodded, their hands met and she pulled him closer.

“Are you going to ask?”

“I don’t think I need to,” replied Nick.

She pulled his hand towards her body, slipped it between the folds of her heavy coat and deposited it onto her pendulous breast. She felt him squeeze her flesh, causing a minor flood from between her legs. Their lips brushed and the loud sigh that entered his ear made his other hand reach for the gap between her legs. Her hand clasped on top of his as she pushed it into her warm, needy sex.

Her body responded. Her nipples, open to the bitter cold, became hard and erect; her pussy sapped all the warmth from his probing fingers; her cold hands sought out the growing bulge hidden in his pants and her lips sucked on his.

His stiff cock was a reassuring response to the way she groped him.

Blue flashing lights and sirens whistled past their tryst but neither cared to notice. Angela eventually broke the hold she had on his cock, hooked her arm in his and led him towards a quiet corridor that led down the side of the pub. They had just turned into the alleyway when a female’s voice shouted the name of ‘Nick’ from the pub entrance. Angela hurried him down the darkening path.

With a firm hand, she pushed him against the wall and wrestled with the buttons and belt of his jeans until she freed his hot cock into the cold air. She felt his pre-cum coat her hand after only a few strokes. Her cunt was more than ready for what she needed to do with it.  As she pulled on his stiffening member, his hands were mauling her tits and pulling on her stiff nipples.

Angela took a step back from Nick and dropped her coat off the edge of her shoulders to reveal her sexy underwear. She kissed him, devouring his mouth for a few moments before placing her hands on the cold stone surface. She turned to face Nick.

“I don’t want that cock getting too cold.”

Angela had only just finished bending at the waist when Nick’s hot dick entered her pussy. It didn’t need pushing. It got sucked inside her greedy cunt until he was practically banging her against the wall. He felt his balls tighten with the urge to spray his cum, coating her insides. His hands were momentarily entwined in her hair as he unloaded himself. Both of them grunted and moaned on this far-from-silent night.

Angela had a long history with Hope Street. It was her go-to place for everything slutty and sexual. It was the place where she met her husband, under not-too-dissimilar circumstances. She couldn’t go back to him, not now. She needed this stranger to want her, to carry her off in the moonlight. Bed her, time and again and pound his meaty cock into her deprived body. Fuck her to within an inch of her life.

No, this was exhilarating, exciting, dirty and raw. Unbounded. There was no way she could go back to a life that she knew the edge of! Least of all now, having tasted freedom oozing from a wilting cock.