“I have the kids until noon on Christmas day and then Bruce picks them,” arrived a text on my phone from Natasha a week before Christmas.
“Jessie has my kids on Christmas day and I pick them on Boxing Day,” was my reply, “Do you want to hang out after Bruce picks the kids up?”
Natasha and I had been friends for a few years. Natasha was separated and single. I was also divorced, but engaged to be married. However, my spouse and I lived in different states and she spent Christmas with her family while I had to be home to spend Christmas with mine.
It wasn’t unusual for Natasha and I to hang out together. I had helped her decorate her house for the holidays a few weeks earlier.
“Better than being by myself on Christmas Day,” was the text response from Natasha. At least neither of us would have to endure Christmas Day alone.
Christmas Day arrived and I called my children to wish them Merry Christmas and talk about all the Santa gifts they had received, but that only took a few minutes out of my morning. By mid-afternoon, I was looking forward to some company when I arrived at Natasha’s.
“Merry Christmas!”
We each exchanged season's greetings and shared a friendly hug. I had brought along wine and dessert. I smelled the warm traditional scent of turkey baking in the oven.
Natasha and spent the next few hours, chatting easily about this and that, but mostly about relationships – both her lack of a relationship or the shitty updates of her never-ending divorce from Bruce. I, in turn, shared the drama and challenges of my long-distance relationship.
“2022 is going to be the year I’m going to get a man!” proclaimed Natasha raising a glass of red wine. “I can’t stand sleeping alone with nothing but my vibrator any longer.”
Natasha was a slim and very attractive brunette, though she wasn’t the type to dress up. She was a health care professional and was comfortable lounging around the house in yoga pants or scrubs. Despite being a holiday, she still wore her typical attire of yoga pants and a hoodie. She didn't even have to try, and she was still sexy as all hell.
“I’ve seen your Tinder account,” I reminded her, “You’ve got a lineup of good-looking dudes to choose from. I don’t understand why this is a problem.”
“I know, but none of them are really my type,” she lamented. “I want a man who is rugged and rough, like a fisherman or a construction worker. Someone who comes through the door all dirty and smelly and rips off my clothes and fucks me in the kitchen.”
That was the opposite of what I represented; however, the red wine was liberating our conversation and we retreated to the living room where she had a huge sectional sofa in front of big-screen television playing the fireplace channel.
“I’d love to help you with that problem of yours,” I offered half-jokingly.
“I’m not sure Marcy would agree to that I’m afraid,” not dismissing my offer outright but respectful of my fiancée, “but if a year from now, I still haven’t got a man, you can fuck me next Christmas.”
I felt a warm tingle grow between my legs at the compromise proposal. Knowing it was complete bullshit, I readily agreed to her terms.
“I brought you something,” I said changing the subject and handing her a small, wrapped gift.
She opened the tiny parcel. It was a small container and inside were a couple of joints.
“How did you know what I really wanted!” Natasha laughed sarcastically as she thanked me. “Should we do a few hits outside?”
On the freezing cold deck under a light Christmas snowfall, we lit one up and shared a few tokes to keep us warm and bring on more holiday cheer.
We returned to the living room to continue our conversation.
I asked her in a serious tone, “What does your vibrator look like?”
The giggles then set in as she tried to air-draw a picture of her vibrator using her pointer finger.
“How big is this thing,” I started to laugh myself as she exaggerated the size and shape of her favorite toy.
Before long, the two of us were laughing so hard there were tears in our eyes. She just kept trying to draw the vibrator with more precision and each time I would say something silly like, “Is it like banana?….no, no, no… it's like the State of Florida...?” We couldn’t stop laughing.
Eventually, she got up from the sofa and ran upstairs. She returned and presented the very vibrator she was attempting to describe. It was a modestly sized cock-shaped dildo with soft rubber tip and an on-off switch at the base.
Our laughing had subsided enough for me to ask another question, “Where do you prefer to press that tip against…” I started to laugh again and forced out the end of the question. ”…on the G spot or….[hahaha]…or the C spot?” using the fingers to scribe the G and the C in the air.
A split second later we were out of control again busting our guts in laughter.
Natasha then tried to show me how she uses it as she still was unable to speak. She spread her legs across the sofa laughing the whole time and facing me. She pressed the rubber nub against her yoga pant-covered crotch moving her wrist up and down as she tried to explain, in vain, how she liked to use it.
“Does it make a lot of noise?” I asked between breaths.
“It - not so much…” She giggled in reply as she switched it on, “but me…I’m not so quiet.”
The vibrator started humming and she continued rubbing it against herself.
The mood in the room then inexplicably did a complete reversal.
The giggles between us stopped and her facial expression changed. The toy was having some effect on her and upon noticing this, it had a similar effect on me too.
Still stoned by this time, we both became seriously and strangely interested in this new erotically charged discussion.
“Does that feel good?” I interrupted in a softer tone. She didn’t stop moving her wrist up and down dragging the vibrating head along the seam of the Lycra material.
“It doesn’t feel bad,” she admitted more sheepishly. The toy kept humming away. “Does this turn you on? Be honest.”
Fair question I thought to myself and surprised she hadn’t noticed the bulge forming in my jeans. I turned to face her putting my own knee onto the sofa and offering a more complete perspective.
“Ah, I see you have a little issue developing there,” she teased me.
“And what if I do?”
“You could show me.”
A nervous shiver of excitement shot through my body. My cock hardened fully and the bulge featured more prominently.
“If I show you,” I propositioned, “you have to do the same.”
“Okay,” she agreed, “but we can’t have sex together.”
“Agreed.”
I loosened my belt, undid my button, and unzipped my fly. Natasha set aside the toy and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her yoga pants. The two of us moved at exactly the same, measured pace as we removed our pants leaving us sitting on the sofa in our underwear.
Natasha had on a pair of red panties and she spread her legs again to the same position they were earlier. There was a large and obvious wet spot in the center. I stared at it and she blushed at my overt attention.
I had on my festive Santa briefs which made her smile. The head of my cock had pushed its way through the waistband and lay pinned to my stomach, like an impatient and squirming dog sits at a door longing to be let out.
I reached up to remove my t-shirt to see if she would mimic me. She did, lifting off her sweatshirt and pulling it over her head. She had on a matching red bra with the outline of her taught nipples plainly visible.
We starred at each other intently. Her hand fell to cover her wet spot and stroked it lightly through the scant material. I mimicked in-kind dropping my hand to rub the outline of my cock. We could feel sexual need building in the space between us.
I slowly slid off my briefs to release my aching shaft into the open air. Her eyes fixated on my fleshy wand and her fingers slipped inside her panties to rub against her dripping pussy slit to satisfy its own hungry demand for attention.
“This is kind of fucking hot,” she admitted a minute later and we sat in the silent night watching each other masturbate.
“Very much,” I agreed. “Take off your panties. I want to watch you rubbing yourself.”
She let out an involuntary gasp at the mere audacity of such a suggestion, but then complied, slipping off her sopping panties and tossing them onto the coffee table. She unfastened her bra and liberated her perky tits into the open room. Two perfectly sized handfuls that peaked with pert nipples decidedly point in my direction almost begging to be licked and sucked.
There, completely naked, sitting across from one another, we watched each other getting ourselves off. We had no place to go. No one was looking for us. We took our time teasing and tantalizing one another with different touches, different looks, different moans, different words…
Natasha had her right fingers massaging between her puffy folds. Her middle finger disappeared inside her body. She reached deep inside before straightening her finger, arching her back and lifting herself off the sofa on her own hand. A spider web of pussy juice strung between her fingers with her freed hand.
My fist was wrapped around my shaft and I was jacking off under Natasha’s watchful and approving gaze. My thumb and forefinger milked a clear stream of pre-cum from the swollen head. I self-lubricated myself hoping the opportunity would come.
“Have you ever fantasized about me?” I asked her with a leading sexual question.
Natasha was feeling every touch and movement. Her pussy by this time was glistening and dripping with anticipation. “Maybe,” she offered a reply in a tone of voice that sounded more like an admission of guilt than a denial. “You are going to get married next year and I do not want to get in the middle of that.”
Having avoided that direct answer, she had the boldness to redirect the question, “Have you fantasized about fucking me Alex?” Just saying it aloud, quickened her breathing.
“Maybe a few times.” It was an honest admission. I was so hard watching her fingering herself in front of me. “I’m kind of hoping you don’t meet anyone in the next twelve months.” I thought to myself, how is that for a naughty confession and I nearly exploded as soon as the words were spoken.
At the same time, she let out another gasp, tantalized by the idea that a year from now I might tear off her sweat pants, and fuck her, maybe even on this very sofa. “It might be worth it to be celibate for another year.”
Natasha reached over and grabbed her vibrator, turned it on, and pressed it lightly against her clit. Her ass slid along the sofa toward me as she lifted her right leg over the top of the seat spreading herself and lying back in such a way that I had a complete view of her masturbation technique. I smelled her sex. I wanted to taste it badly.
My hand was completely covered in pre-cum and I worked it up into a creamy lather lubricating my cock. My fist was frictionless along its ridges. I imagined leaning over her and steering my appendage inside her filling and stretching her vagina completely around my member.
“Do you want us to cum together?” I asked, sensing sexual tension so fine that the slightest sexual cue might set us a barrage of holiday waterworks.
Natasha allowed herself to moan aloud a longer, confirmatory answer over several breaths, “Oh my god yes…yes…yes.” She purred at her peak, "I want you to cum all over me, Alex!”
“I’d rather fill your pussy with my cum and watch it dripping out.” My voice was full of want, lust, and desire by this point and I wasn’t about to hold anything back, “I want to taste us together.”
That was the breaking point.
She pushed her vibrator deep inside her cunt, imagining it was my cock filling her. Her thighs began to quiver and shake.
The bulb of my cock turned a deep shade of purple. I gave a few last tugs, timing myself with Natasha’s climax and then we both let it happen.
In unison, we cried out together as our bodies ripped apart and ejaculated our building loads. My cock lobbed a couple of heavy goblets of white sticky cream across the sofa, landing on her belly and the back of her working hand. A tiny remainder was drooling from the tip of my throbbing cock.
Natasha pulled away the vibrator as her orgasm shot up her thighs, through her core, and out between her labia. Her pussy was pulsing under my captive watch. Wet streams of juices dribbling down her crack.
She scooped up the globs of cum splayed across her stomach onto her fingers and she massaged the sticky mess along her notch and inside of her vagina.
She looked up at me and smiled devilishly, “You wanted to see your cum dripping from inside me, I’m glad you got your Christmas wish. My present to you.”
It was so hot watching her mix our juices together with her fingers. I reached over and took her hand, raised her index finger to my mouth and sucked it clean. Curiously, she followed my lead and sucked her own middle finger until it too was sanitized.
"We are good at that, aren't we?" I finally confessed, breaking the silent night.
“I still need someone to fuck me and sleep beside me.” Natasha was reverting back to reality.
The room became completely quiet, almost…silent, and we pulled a nearby blanket around us and watched the fireplace channel together enjoying each other's company.
