1994

Jessica’s parents had met Mike barely an hour before she snuck him to her bedroom.

‘You’re nuts,’ her three-month boyfriend told her as she eased his straining zipper down, the pair of them framed in fairy-lights she’d strung around her mirror.

‘It gets you hard,’ she said, sliding down him and uncovering his cock as she progressed. ‘See?’

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day emanated from downstairs as Jess bobbed on him, the reindeer antlers she’d donned dancing in rhythm. Michael wished the same, providing the festivities included slurping enthusiasm from his cocksucking girlfriend. ‘Fuck…’ he groaned.

‘I’m so horny,’ Jess said, chasing saliva drips with her tongue. ‘I want you to do it.’

‘Do what?’ Her eager mouth had scrambled Mike’s twenty-year-old thought processes.

‘Me,’ Jess clarified, climbing to grip her bedrail, ass thrust out with a first-year uni student’s precocity. ‘In my own bedroom at Christmas.’

‘Your parents are below,’ he said, wetted cock swaying as he rose. ‘Your whole family…’

‘I know, it’s too perfect.’ She peered over her shoulder and peeled her red, plaid skirt upwards over her ass. Even clad in fern-green tights that rear was sweeter and juicier than the satsuma peeking from the festive stocking that dangled on her bedpost.

‘Shit,’ he breathed, fingers twitching to grasp damp, pussy-clinging fabric. ‘We’ll get caught…’

‘They’re too busy getting pissed and singing crappy Christmas tunes,’ Jess insisted. ‘Just fuck me!’

Lust’s roar drowned out the jangle of Mike’s nerves, and he tugged the panties free, pressing his spearhead between candy-pink pussy folds and thrusting inside. Jess provided her customary shaft-sucking welcome, the tightest he’d known since his virginity’s departure several years prior. Two years of college dating and fornication hadn’t prepared his heart for her smile the day she registered at the Drama Society’s Freshers’ Fair stall, nor indeed his cock for her cunt. Its wet heat was irresistible to him, even–it turned out–with her family in proximity.

Nor did Jess minimise the risk. Her enthusiasm as he thrust, balls smacking thighs as he filled her, was unbridled enough to overpower Wizzard’s festive classic and the downstairs cocktail chatter. ‘Shush!’ he urged. Her juicy interior was warm as mulled wine and five times as intoxicating, but she needed to calm the fuck down.

‘Can’t! Don’t stop…’ his crazy girlfriend moaned. God and Santa knew he didn’t want to, and the circumstances just made it hotter. But still… Her cries were raw, and Mike cringed as he fucked. He couldn’t be caught with her, not like this!

Desperate times demanded seasonal solutions. Grabbing for the gift-crammed stocking, that relic of his lover’s Christmases past, he liberated the satsuma and stuffed it into her open mouth. ‘Bite on that,’ he said, gripping shoulder and waist, and driving extra-hard.

She did, teeth breaking the skin of her improvised gag and piercing deep into its sweet flesh as Mike shafted her. Juice ran down her chin and thighs together, as midnight chimes pealed out from the nearby church.

Christmas had come, and neither Jess nor Mike was far behind.

~~~~

2000

‘It’s perfect,’ Jess said, gazing about at sprigs of green and blood-red berries, slender glowing candles and fairy-light pinpricks.

‘It’ll be a perfect mess by midnight,’ Mike predicted.

‘And you’ll clean up,’ she said, poking him playfully. ‘You’re the one with messy friends. If Liam gets pissed and knocks his punch around this carpet…’

‘He’ll be on his best behaviour,’ Mike assured. ‘Bringing his new girlfriend, yeah?’

‘Chloe.’ Jess nodded. ‘Let’s hope this one’s a good influence on him.’

‘Like you were on me?’ He squeezed her close, palms exploring contours wrapped in a silver party dress.

‘That’s not the point,’ she said, nuzzling his neck and pawing his chest, fingers toying with shirt buttons and teasing chest hair. ‘We’re allowed to misbehave. We’re special. And it’s our home.’

‘Our first home.’

‘Mmhmm. Bit of a tight squeeze, but exquisitely appointed–like your pussy,’ Mike said, tugging up the hem of her dress to better access that body part.

‘Is it?’ she half-purred, half-giggled, insinuating her hand between their close-pressed bodies and diving to squeeze his crotch. ‘So our next will be extravagant with a nicely trimmed lawn–like your cock?’

‘Absolutely,’ he affirmed, pulling her close to let her feel his hardness. ‘Or why are we working both our asses off?’ He gripped one hard-worked ass. She encircled him to claim the other.

‘Good point. Speaking of which, how about we reward ourselves for throwing such a lavish party?’

‘Before the guests arrive?’

‘Uh-huh,’ she said, tugging him towards the humble spruce sapling they’d tucked into a corner of their living-room. ‘I’ve a special present to give you under the tree.’

‘Damn–I love festive traditions,’ he told her, as she lay him down, already tugging at his belt buckle.

‘Fucking on Christmas Eve…’ Exposing his cock, she trailed her tongue from balls to tip, the candlelight reflecting in her dark eyes. ‘First time in our own place, though.’

‘First of many,’ he assured, himself as much as her, while she hitched up her dress and plucked aside the crotch of her silk panties. ‘Hurry up and sit that pussy down on me before the bloody door starts buzzing…’

‘They can all wait,’ she said, straddling him and fitting his swollen head to her lips. ‘Our house, our rules.’

‘’Tis the season to be freaky…’ Then he gasped as she enveloped him.

‘Ohhhhhhhhh…’ She sank all the way, loving how he stretched her out. ‘God, I’m going to ride you like a fucking reindeer.’

‘I’ve no idea what that means,’ he groaned, and then shut up. She was shunting on him too committedly to allow articulation of further thought. One dress strap fell away to expose a berry-nippled breast, and ringlets of auburn hair tumbled free from the band with which she’d secured them. She rode him fast and frantic, phantom doorbells ringing in her ears as she fucked herself upon him. He gripped her hips in response, thrusting up inside her.

They came together like chiming Christmas bells, and when they were all rung out, it seemed to Mike the perfect moment for his secret gift–the smallest, most expensive one. She was still astride him when he passed her the tiny, ribboned box.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ she gasped, now doubly out of breath.

‘Open it,’ he said, still tumescent within her. She did, gasping once again at how the jewel sparkled, when she tried on the ring under Christmas lights.

‘Merry Christmas, Jess,’ Mike said. ‘Our Christmas. First of many.’

~~~~

2005

The Santa costumes hadn’t been Jess’s idea. But Chloe liked a bit of dress-up and insisted it would be just what was needed to ‘get the boys going’.

‘Are we sure this is wise?’ Jess had asked Mike the night before.

‘I don’t know. Do you?’ was his non-committal response.

‘It might… liven things up,’ she suggested. ‘Make sure we don’t fall asleep like last time Mum and Dad took Megan…’

They’d both smiled ruefully. Mike’s parents babysitting their demanding three-year-old the night before Christmas was gold.

Thus Jess found herself bumping boobs and asses with Chloe in a raunchy re-enactment of Mean Girls ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ scene, their husbands spectating in escalating and erectile awe. Her explanation that she and Mike would be throwing another ‘little Christmas Eve party’ hadn’t entirely been a lie. The celebration was simply more exclusive than she’d suggested. And more niche.

Maybe it would have been better with just the two of them, she considered, as she ground her satin-clad ass into Mike’s crotch, Chloe beside her doing the same to Liam. This should have been their first family Christmas in the townhouse for which they’d both worked so hard, even if they’d ended up falling asleep to Miracle on 34th Street after a third glass of Glühwein.

There’d be no falling asleep tonight–not with silky blonde Chloe swinging Jess one-eighty, reversing their positions, so that they ended up dry-riding each other’s husband. Even hopped up on vodka-and-cranberry cocktails, Jess was reticent to service Liam’s substantial bulge. That remained the case until Mike groaned appreciation at whatever Chloe’s satin snatch was doing to his denim-wrapped hard-on. You like that, do you? Then let’s see how your bezzie mate likes THIS…

So was triggered the rivalry–a semi-playful one, at least initially. Lots of tongue-sandwich girl-on-girl to show the boys what good sports they were. But Chloe’s licking of Mike’s neck was a step too far for Jess. Whipping off her panties so that she could ride Liam’s uncomplaining face was–she knew–an act of pure passive aggression. Chloe upped the ante, grinding her cunt against Mike’s startled mouth till she came in it. From there it was a race to free each other’s husband’s cock and a contest to provide the most amazing Yuletide suck-job.

As Jess hoovered Liam’s erection–longer than Mike’s, if not quite as sturdy–it occurred to her how few cocks she’d ever had in her hot, pretty mouth. Now there was a truly guilty thought. But then she saw Mike’s head thrown back, like after twelve years’ monogamy it was great to have a different girl’s lips adhered to his shaft. In a fit of emotion she couldn’t quite define, she went for it with Liam–bobbing like the tree fairy when family dog Max had attacked the lower branches.

Both guys came in not-their-spouse’s mouth, both girls drinking it like eggnog. All parties– with the arguable exception of Liam–looked sheepish afterwards but shepherded such emotions away, parting with hugs and cordial Christmas wishes.

‘Maybe just us next year?’ Jess said, snuggling in bed once they’d checked all their preparations for the trek to her parents’ next day.

‘Yeah–good idea,’ Mike said. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas.’

They kissed, and Jess drifted off, with the merest icy sliver embedded in what should have been pure festive warmth.

~~~~

2013

‘You seriously expect me to wear this?’ Jess dangled the bra and panty combo from her index fingers and glowered at Mike. ‘At my parents’?’

‘You wouldn’t have hesitated once,’ he reminded her.

‘When I was a teenager, maybe.’

‘It’s festive,’ he insisted. ‘It’s your Christmas present. The first part.’

‘It’s your Christmas present.’ Her voice was seasoned with disdain. ‘To yourself.’

‘You don’t like it?’

Jess studied the red-satin bows on the cups and the crochet work on the plunging crotch. Her pre-Oliver body would have rocked this number, but it would take a month off work and on the cross-trainer before she’d feel comfortable wearing it now. ‘I don’t… I’d rather…’

‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘It’d be fun. Our sexy little secret.’

‘Sexy? How sexy do you think I feel right now?’ she remonstrated, the lingerie drooping from her fingers. ‘I’ve spent the day baking mince pies in a sick-stained jumper, while you took Megan to see fucking Frozen. Nice division of labour.’

‘Hey, it was a father-daughter Disney bonding moment.’

‘Really? Well while you were singing along to Let It Be…’

‘Let It Go.’

‘What-bloody-ever… I had Oliver screaming fit to drown out Michael Bublé’s Christmas album.’

‘Maybe he prefers Dean Martin?’

‘Fuck the jokes, Mike. You want to see someone in this get-up, give Chloe a call. I’m sure she’d rock it.’

Mike stared at her as silence yawned. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’

Jess had visibly reddened. ‘Forget I said that.’

‘Look, I’m trying to inject some fun into Christmas Eve,’ he said, brushing off the Chloe remark. ‘You know, like before? Zoe can babysit till late, so let’s relax. We don’t have to stay at your folks’ all evening,’ he added, seeing her expression darken. ‘We can go somewhere. Just you and me.’

Alright,’ she relented. ‘Screw it, I’ll wear the lingerie.’

The usual selection of party tunes was playing at her parents’ drinks do. The same decorations had been excavated from the attic, the smalltalk with Jess’s parents’ friends was de rigeur. ‘Megan and the little one–what’s his name–they’re looking forward to Christmas? What age are they now? God, doesn’t time fly?’

Jess and Mike wore their game faces. By the time she’d knocked back several of her Dad’s rum-laced espresso grog cocktails, Jess was noticing how the satin lingerie slithered against her nipples and her crotch as she mingled.

Hence when Mike suggested they leave and took them–as designated driver–down obscure country roads to a desolate coastal pocket they’d frequented in their student days, she went with it. She even found the mood when he put his mouth on hers and eased her party dress from her body–that liberation of old when she straddled him in the sexy bits he’d bought for her. She stroked his face and kissed his chest and rode his comforting, familiar cock, touching herself till she came, then feeling his surge within her, his sag of relief against the driver’s seat.

Afterwards she crumpled into him and nestled there, the car’s engine humming gently through them both.

‘I still love you, you know,’ Mike muttered in her ear, fingers sifting her hair.

‘I know,’ she said. I love you too formed in her mind, but so did I’m not sure that’s enough.

Neither could muster a Merry Christmas. Not that year.

~~~~

2015

Jess tried to recall her instructions to Megan. The fact that she was getting fucked so vigorously made it tricky. Slap-slap-slap of solid pelvis against ass, cock probing deep on every hard collision. Christ, it was what she needed, no argument on that front. Still…

‘Don’t let him near any peanuts.’ (That one she’d covered.)

‘There are no peanuts. Mum, this has been a peanut-free zone forever.’

Slap-slap-slap… Smack! A meaty palm branded Jess’s ass, as the cock reamed her. Fuck! Horny bastard! He’d spanked the babysitting issues from her mind. Well almost…

‘And nothing sugary, however much he whinges,’ she’d added. ‘He’ll go hyper and fall down the stairs.’

‘I get it. If you’re going, go! I can look after my crazy little brother for one night.’

Yes, but could she? Megan was more grounded than most fourteen-year-olds, but she’d be on Instachat or whatever it was called, and phoning friends to bemoan her insufferable life, while Oliver waited up for Santa… But Zoe couldn’t make it, and Mike had some function of his own to go to, which didn’t fucking help, not that Jess was one to talk with her palms pressed to the restroom sink, and her lipstick smeared, and her skirt up round her waist as she got pounded. God, she couldn’t remember feeling this slutty in ages. If ever. Which was pretty damn cool.

Smack!

Fucker!

‘I’m really glad I asked you to this party,’ the slut-maker in question grunted as he thrust.

She’d not quite believed it when he called, or that she’d said yes, despite assurances that none of this new work crowd knew Mike.

‘Having fun yet?’ he inquired, squeezing her ass, as he rammed her hard.

‘What do you think?’ she panted to her own smudged and sweating face.

‘I think I should have done this fucking years ago!’

‘Maybe since you’re Mike’s oldest friend, and married…’

‘Fuck all that,’ Liam said. ‘Christ, you’re still tight for forty. Shit, I’m going to cum…’

Ever the charmer, Jess thought, as his body stiffened, and he emptied himself deep inside her. Thank fuck for restroom condoms…

She gave him short shrift once they’d adjusted themselves. ‘Right, get out of here. I’ve a call to make.’

‘Fair enough,’ Liam said, grinning. ‘Until next Christmas…’

In your sweet dreams, she thought, as the phone purred in her ear. Let’s just say you scratched an itch. Her call went straight to Megan’s voicemail. Dammit! So she made a second call, one that rang for-seeming-ever. Come on, Mike–where are you?

Her husband sounded hassled when he answered. ‘Jess–something wrong?’

‘No, no–don’t panic. I don’t think so. I’m just fretting about leaving Ollie along with Megan. Can you check on things?’

‘Can’t you?’

‘It’ll take forever getting a taxi tonight. Are you close-by? Are you still good to drive?’

‘Yes, but… Look, we can trust our own daughter for one night. You were only supposed to call in an actual emergency.’

‘I know, I’m worried. I can’t help it. I’m–I’m not used to this yet.’ She bit down on the impulse to teariness.

‘No. Me neither,’ Mike said, his voice softening. ‘Look, I’ve got something to attend to, and then I’ll go over. Okay?’

‘Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that.’

‘No problem. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

Mike ended the call and looked down the bed to his Christmas surprise.

‘What’ve you got to attend to, Mr Sanderson?’ she inquired, wetting her lips.

‘I think in the circumstances you can use my first name,’ he said.

Her laughter was silky. ‘You mean lying naked on my bed with a stiff cock?’

‘Mmhmm. Not the kind of party I was expecting when you called. I figured it would be at your parents’…’

Zoe toyed with the buttons on her onesie– her backless, fur-trimmed, thigh-skimming, snowflake-print onesie. ‘It’s much more fun here,’ she said, unfastening her way down the garment’s front. ‘I was sorry to hear about you and Mrs Sanderson, but I figured I could at least put a bit of the ‘Merry’ back into your Christmas. Mike.’

‘Oh–that you can,’ he said.

As the family babysitter shuffled free of her festive onesie and crawled lissom and naked the length of Mike’s body, he felt a pang of guilt amid his arousal. He and Jess might be months from divorce, but he simply wasn’t used to the touch of someone else on Christmas Eve.

~~~~

2021

‘Hey.’

‘Hi there.’

‘You come here before?’ Mike inquired.

Jess smirked. ‘It’s been known...’

They sipped their drinks, almost shy with each other, a point of stillness in the party that fizzed around them. Christmas was doubling as a Covid-delayed celebration of Megan’s 18th.

‘You look good,’ Mike said, appraising Jess. ‘Really good.’

‘All that Zumba during the lockdowns. Who whipped you into shape?’

‘Joe Wicks. My own personal body coach.’

‘I like that show,’ she said, properly checking him out. ‘Joe worked you hard.’

‘You get me hard.’

‘Damn.’ She nearly spilled her cocktail. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’

He smiled, and she returned it. ‘Same place as twenty-seven years ago.’

‘Still sentimental,’ she said, repressing a swell of emotion.

‘Yup,’ he shrugged. ‘And still an idiot.’

‘Sounds like we have a whole lot in common.’ She set her drink aside. ‘Want to get better acquainted?’

‘Where?’ he asked, setting his drink next to hers.

‘I have a room here. Wait–do you have protection?’

‘Got my booster jab last week.’

‘Hot. In that case bring a satsuma.’

‘I’ll be needing one?’

‘Hell yes.’

‘Damn…’

She took his hand and they glided through the other guests, secretive as teens and just as urgent. Mike’s heart pounded all the way up the staircase.

Jess’s room had been transformed for guests, but the bed was the same, likewise the mirror. He put her hands either side of the latter’s frame and kissed her neck while palming her tits under her blouse. She was already soaked by the time his fingers dived into her knickers, a perfect complement to his hardness. He’d not laid a hand to any citrus fruit, so he clapped the hand itself over her mouth as he rammed himself inside her, muting her ardent screams.

‘Fuck…’ he hissed in her ear, as he impaled her. ‘Nostalgia’s so not overrated.’

She moaned her concurrence, equally when he put her on the bed, stripped her panties clean off and fucked her there, with her legs spread. ‘Shit,’ she groaned, as her fingers dug into him, ‘if we get caught… The kids…’

‘…Will see Mum and Dad getting along just fine.’

‘True… Oh Jesus…’

‘It’s his birthday tomorrow...’

‘So they say. Shut up and fuck me!’

He did, and she fucked back, the pair of them rutting to a cock-creaming, cunt-filling conclusion, replete with barely stifled moans. Their mutual release rendered them limp and panting.

They adjusted themselves hastily, clear-headedness having returned, and sat side by side on Jess’s old bed. When Mike’s little finger brushed against hers, Jess curled her knuckle to link him. Noel Gallagher’s version of Merry Christmas Everybody floated up from below with the lively festive chatter.

‘Here’s wishing you a merry one,’ Mike said.

‘You too, she replied, brushing the carpet with her toe.

‘And a Happy New Year?’ he ventured.

She increased the pressure on his finger just perceptibly. ‘Something to discuss.’

‘Yes. Yes, I think it is.’

They sat in companionable stillness, till the church bells rang in Christmas Day.

The End