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Hi!
You won’t remember me but my name’s Christmas, Mary Christmas. I was born on December 25th to parents with the surname ”Christmas” who thought naming their daughter “Mary” was cute. I hated it, and Christmas as well – until I found The Coat. Now I love Christmas because I love to fuck.
And believe me, this Christmas cums more than once a year! I’m the gift that keeps on giving…
There must have been some magic in that old hat and coat I found. Or rather, they found me at a charity shop, causing me to choose them, though covered in ashes and soot, rather than the designer vicuña coat adjacent. But when I slipped them on my bod, I felt alive as I could be. They were red, trimmed with white fur, and the coat ended just above my knees.
I took them home, cleaned them, and was about to wear them shopping when some impulse made me strip to my black leather boots, then slip them on. I was perfectly comfortable, and suddenly horny as fuck, so went out prowling among the crowds on December 1st.
My pussy was already dripping when I met my first. He was walking alone, looking worried. On impulse, I opened my coat. His head jerked towards me, and he stopped, mouth open. I gave him a nod, and he flowed into my waiting arms. His hands found my waist, then slid to my naked bum. He sank to his knees and began to lick my pink, puffy pussy.
Grasping his hair, and gasping, I came quickly, gushing into his frantic mouth. He stood, face wet and smiling, pulled me over to a wall, then unzipped his throbbing cock and boosted me into the air. Wrapping my legs around him, I impaled myself in one, fluid motion. His face upturned in rapture, he pushed me up, then drove me down hard onto his cock again and again. He came quickly, long and loud, and I joined him.
When he’d finished, he leaned, panting, against the wall, a happy smile on his face. Kissing his forehead, I slid off, landing lightly on my feet, closed my coat, and walked smugly home.
To my surprise, the crowd around us seemed not to notice.
That set the tone, except that I found I was able to influence – and fuck – ever more people as the days to Christmas counted down. I found I could shed my coat, yet remain invisible to the randos around us while I wore the hat. Then, once I finished fucking, I would slip the coat on again, and walk off with a satisfied grin, and no one remembered a thing.
On December second, I picked up a sad-looking woman on Bloor Street, pulling her into a bar. We performed sixty-nine in a booth, only to be joined by the waitress, who sandwiched me from behind, kissing my neck, fondling my bum, then reaching around to squeeze my aching tits. All three of us came, then the two women swapped places and we did it again.
By the ninth, I was swimming in sex. Impulsively, I knocked on the door of a house and was met by a young man and his girlfriend who looked as if they had been fighting. When I opened my coat, their expressions changed, and we spent a joyful afternoon, cumming on the beds, laughing all the way.
Next, I went three doors down and was greeted by a house full of hostile-looking bikers who dissolved into frantic eagerness. They stripped and established a train as I sank to my knees and enjoyed a blowbang, sucking off all seven of them multiple times while fingering myself and cumming repeatedly. I left them exhausted and happy as I slipped out the door.
And on and on and on it went. I seemed to be tireless and insatiable, almost like a happy nymphomaniac except that I chose my partners, who all seemed depressed, sad, or worried. When I was done, both they and I parted happy and fulfilled.
The coup de grâs came when I crashed a torpid corporate Christmas Eve party at the Ritz. There must have been well over a hundred guests in the aptly-named ballroom that night, and the result was the stuff of legend.
Slipping into the room unannounced, I glanced around, then trotted up onto the stage, spying a singer warming up in the back. Sashaying to center stage, I tapped the mike to get everyone’s attention, then smiled and opened my coat.
There was a stunned silence, then they rushed me. The singer grabbed me first. I fended her off long enough to shuck my coat, then lay down on it. She went down on me, hand up her skirt and down her knickers, her fingers as busy in her cunt as her tongue was in mine.
Meanwhile, the first man to reach me dragged out his cock, knelt astride my head, and started feeding his length to my open, hungry mouth.
A train formed, waiting their turns – but meanwhile, they started playing with each other, offering hand jobs, finger-fucking, and open, eager mouths, seemingly without regard to shape, size, or orientation.
As one member of the train finished, another replaced them, while the one just finished staggered off the stage – then, as often as not, shed their clothes and started coupling with the others.
By the time midnight arrived, even I was flagging, and there were clothes and naked bodies littering the room. I somehow staggered home and fell into bed.
Alas, the magic was gone when I woke on Christmas Day. After mourning its departure, I pushed the coat and hat to the back of my wardrobe – until now.
You see, Christmas and the magic are back!
I’m telling you this because I want to fuck someone who will remember it, and you were my favorite last year!
Ready?
