Stepdaughter's Christmas Giftbysirhugs©
"My, Santa...what big...gifts you have."
I almost hit my Santa hat on a tree bough, startled by the interruption from behind me as I stashed presents under the tree at about 3 a.m. Christmas morning, long after my well fucked wife was sleeping soundly, the combination of Christmas Eve dinner, midnight mass, and vigorous sex having done her in.
The teasing tone sounded almost but not quite like my new wife, right down to the pregnant pauses, which emphasized the fact that my bride loved me not just for my wit and wisdom, but also because even in my fifties, my physical endowment truly was a gift, one she liked to unwrap frequently. Just those words spoken that way were enough to cause my body to react automatically, blood flowing to my groin, engorging my organ, my balls roiling in their sac, ready for action.
Then I realized that I was about to meet my new eighteen year old stepdaughter, Emma. She had been studying abroad in Australia, on a full year scholarship. Money was tight, and she would not have been able to fly back for the wedding even if there had been time and warning. Since her mother and I had actually gotten hitched on a whim during a convention in Vegas just three months earlier, she had all the more reason not to have attended.
We had spoken on the phone, and even Skyped a bit, but her focus of course was on her mother, and there was a bit of natural reticence about this new old guy who had blown into her mother's life like a hurricane. Potential hostility was avoided by the fact that I had not broken a home - Emma's Dad had run off with his secretary about a decade ago, moving across the continent, keeping in touch mostly via support checks - and by Emma knowing that at least her Mom had known me for years, even if Emma had never met me. The Vegas wedding might have been sudden, but my bride and I had been friends with benefits for most of the five years that I had been regional sales manager of the company her Dad- Emma's Grandpa- owned. Until the wedding I had been based in a nearby city with a better air hub to visit the branch offices. The boss' wedding gift to me had been a promotion and relocation to head office. As Vice President Sales I worked closely with my wife, the Executive Vice President for Marketing, and my immediate boss.
Maybe that's why I was going even further out of my way this first Christmas together to impress my wife, who was also my boss. Although we had discussed buying a new home that was truly ours, at this stage we were still in the house Emma had grown up in - they hadn't moved after her dad left, hoping to comfort the youngster with familiar surroundings. Continuing that theme, Grandpa had flown Emma half way around the world for one last holiday season in her childhood home.
"When did you get home? I thought you were landing at dawn." I asked as I turned half way around, cautiously, knowing that Emma was not used to men in her home, and might have been headed to the kitchen without being properly clothed. I also noted that realizing it was Emma not her mother referring to my gifts had done nothing to reduce my arousal. My cock was about half erect, more than enough to bob up against the fabric of my pajamas.
"I got an earlier connection from the coast. You and Mom must have been at church when I landed, so I got a ride with the neighbours - their son was waiting for luggage at the same carousel."
I immediately knew she was referring to Morris Albertson, whose father Moses was a nerdy accountant in Grandpa's factory. Morris was off at Harvard, headed toward business school. The apple had not fallen far from the tree. But for some reason I was wondering whether Morris had ever tried to get into Emma's pants, and, even more, if he might have succeeded. An image of Emma crowded, an extra in Albertson's Honda Civic, perched on the young man's lap, his pimply face brushed by her hair, his clammy palms accidentally on purpose bumping her breasts, flickered in my brain, overheated under the Santa cap. My cock appreciated the thought, twitching toward fullness.
My head had turned far enough to get my first live glimpse of my stepdaughter. All the pictures were two or three years old, and had shown a nervous, scrawny bespectacled gal with braces and pigtails. On Skype, I had learnt that time had made Emma more mature, more confident, with a trendy haircut. I was not prepared, though, for how much her body had bloomed. What had been a boyish figure now had rounded nicely into curves, hips and breasts even better proportioned than in that brief fantasy image of her being pawed by the neighbour boy.
Once again my little head proved that it was faster than my big head. My fully erect cock was tenting my flannel. It took all my willpower not to look down at it. That meant though that I was looking right at Emma, and saw that her eyes were wide, and not meeting mine. Her jaw dropped in shock. I could not help but notice though that her nipples puffed out, pressing themselves against a sleep T emblazoned "Aussies do it better". The double entendre was undermined by the iron-on surfing cartoon underneath.
"Sorry to startle you," she muttered after a moment that seemed like forever. "but when I was a little girl, I used to try to sneak down and catch my Dad playing Santa."
I saw a tear form in the corner of her eye.
"Did you ever succeed?" I asked, hoping that chatter would distract her from the sadness that still lingered all these years after her Dad had abandoned her. Also that my cock might shrink while she was busy answering.
"No," she chuckled, "I always ended up just drinking the milk and eating the carrot that my Mom left out for the reindeer. The closest I came was when I was really little - about four I think. I got to the turn in the stairs and heard voices. When I peaked around the corner I saw Mommy and Daddy on the couch, their clothes all mussed. I ran back to my room. Now that I'm older I realize that I almost interrupted them making love."
'Yes,' I thought, 'her Mom does love sex all over the house.'
Picturing my wife, fifteen years younger and riper, fucking on the couch, did nothing to reduce my tumescence. I briefly considered snatching the Santa hat off my head to cover my excitement, but instantly realized that would only be more embarrassing for both of us.
Emma spoke again, after a throaty sexy chuckle which reminded me again of my wife's sensuality.
"Somehow though, I doubt that my Dad ever delivered for my Mom like her new Santa."
"What?" I blurted in shocked response.
"After they split up, Mom used to refer to Dad as 'Mr. Little Dick' , though she did concede once late at night after drinking that his new girlfriend probably was happy with his magic tongue. I was still too young to really understand."
"But now you know."
I heard me say the words, but was shocked that I was having this intimate conversation with the stepdaughter I barely knew. Emma's blush confirmed the inappropriateness of my response. Saying she started it would be a feeble excuse -- I was the adult, not quite her parent, but even worse, married to her mother.
"Well, sort of," she stammered. "that is I know in theory what she meant, but..."
The silence hung between us, both of us able to complete her thought. My nubile stepdaughter had just told me, a virtual stranger, that no man or boy had even eaten her pussy. Instantly. I wondered if it was possible, in this day and age, that such a hot young woman might actually still be a virgin. I knew her mother was a lusty sex goddess, but I also knew that my wife had spent much of Emma's adolescence too busy raising a daughter to date.
As if reading my mind, Emma explained.
"When I was younger it was sports, or science club. Now I'm all about good grades. Grandpa has spent a lot of money sending me to school and I don't want to disappoint him."
Suddenly, my brain took another left turn, imagining that my boss, still virile in his seventies, dating increasingly younger secretaries ever since becoming a widower two years ago, would happily spend more of his fortune educating this angel if she just rewarded him with a few hugs, pressing that body against him, or, even better, wriggling in his lap as a thank you. I knew for a fact that whenever my wife wanted something special, she just rubbed up against her daddy, or bent low over his desk. She often came home and joked about it. In fact, she had recently suggested that we could probably get a really big house if she actually just went ahead and seduced him. I could tell from the glint in her eye that she was at least half serious, since she was ultra competitive, and would love to show that she was a superior lover over the young bimbos.
"I've never even seen an erect cock." Emma interrupted my thoughts.
"At least not until now," she giggled, lifting her hand girlishly up to cover her mouth. The motion made her firm young tits shift under her shirt, erect nipples dancing teasingly. My cock nodded in appreciation.
"You still haven't," I replied, surprising myself with how stern and parental my voice sounded. Though I had a brief starter marriage years ago, I had never had children, had been content to rely on casual sex to warm my nights during my years as a travelling salesman.
"But, Santa, that's all I want for Christmas," she whined playfully in a little girl voice. As she spoke, Emma took two steps closer to the tree, getting quite near to me.
I stepped aside, not wanting to be trapped between my stepdaughter and the tree. She glided along after me, and I backed toward the breakfast counter that separated the kitchen from the great room.
"I've got you now," she chuckled.
"What?" My knees were bumping the stool behind me but I knew I could sidestep into the passageway easily.
Emma responded by lifting her head dramatically, making my eyes follow hers upward. Then I realized that I was standing beneath the mistletoe my wife had playfully hung for her staff party the week before. I had forgotten all about it.
I relaxed, playing along with what I assumed would be the standard social peck on the lips.
She closed the gap until her body heat mingled with mine. I sensed her naked knee slide into the gap between my flannel clad legs. Her fingers curled into my dense mat of curly grey hair, tilting the Santa cap down over my eyes. I felt her breath, fresh and minty, warming my face. My lips lowered until they met hers.
It was all I could do to exercise some restraint as Emma caressed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine, which made my cock twitch in response. Finally, I pulled back. She said, "That was nice, but not the gift I wanted."
Her free hand skimmed down my chest, barely touching my saggy belly before lightly brushing my weighty cock, still ensconced in its flannel.
I leaned in to kiss her again, hoping to distract her, taking that hand gently yet firmly in mine, and moving it to my hip. That proved to be another miscalculation, as my stepdaughter seized the opportunity to first caress the curve of my ass and then squeeze it, draw my stiffness tight against her lithe body. Our lips at least remained closed as this kiss lingered longer than the first one.
"Oh my gosh, this is my stepdaughter." I said silently deep in my skull. The words echoed, each time seeming further away and less relevant.
At some stage, my hand went to her shoulder, without thinking. I suppose that I could have rationalized it as holding her back, but really, I was holding her steady against me, two thin layers of cloth the only things separating the engorged tip of my manhood from the tender flesh above her ... cunt. I know that was the first instance that I though of my stepdaughter's prize as a cunt, a womanly womb built for fucking, begging for fulfillment, desperate to be filled with a throbbing cock. I knew very well that once women got to that stage, they did not really care, any cock would do. I also knew that I had a cock which had pleased more than a few.
Emma broke free first, gasping for air.
"Relax ," she breathed, leaning even closer, her hard nipples tapping against the old-fashioned flannel pajama top I still wore. She rose up on her toes, kissing me harder. This time, her lips parted, my teeth opened in response, and I allowed just the tip of her tongue to touch mine. I could feel a n even stronger shiver run down my body. By the time it reached where her hand was caressing my ass I knew that she was quivering just as much. Our tongues twisted playfully together, intertwined.
"I still want to see more," she reminded me when next we came up for breath.
For the first time, I noticed her eyes were not the washed out sea blue of the photographs, but had a beautiful deep violet hue. They glowed with excitement as I took the lead for the first time, catching her pendulous lower lip between my teeth and nibbling gently. She sighed and pressed tighter against me, distracted from my ass and my cock, her arms rising and her wrists linking behind my head, holding me so close that I felt the weight of her tits shifting against me with each movement of her ribs. My cock was a steel rod.
"Touch my tits while I touch your cock," Emma said, unless I imagined the request.
In either case, she broke loose from the embrace and swiftly scooted the sleep shirt up and over head, presenting her naked body to me for the first time. The recessed lighting from the next room, and the colourful glow of the Christmas tree, framed her magnificent nakedness.
"I don't think we should do that," I stammered out, though my eyes and my hardness told of a different desire.
"Why not? I might not be very experienced, but even I know how much guys like to touch them, and you're a guy, so I figure that you must want to touch them too."
"But, I'm married to your mother," I reminded her. "It wouldn't be right."
Emma's deep throaty chuckle was identical with my wife's. In hindsight, I must have known right then I was doomed to do whatever this vixen desired, she took after her mother so.
"I don't care. I've always dreamt of this ever since I saw Mommy doing more than just kissing Santa."
Her nipples were long, stiff thumbs sticking straight out of half grapefruit mounds. At least in the limited light, I discerned no tan lines. After just drinking in her beauty for a long moment, my hand moved up to caress her left breast. When my fingertips passed over her erect nipple, Emma moaned and leaned forward, her lips pressing hard against mine, her hand again caught between our bodies. This time, her fingers fumbled only slightly as they fluttered down inside the elastic waistband of my pants, which no doubt was welcomingly stretched open by my stiffness.
I was no pimply faced school boy, far from it, and I had a fulfilling sex life with her mother that kept my reservoir regularly drained, yet it was all I could do not to spew great gobs of goo all over Emma's dainty fingers the first instance that they brushed her skin against the bare flesh of my cock.
"I'm so wet," Emma groaned, her free hand guiding mine along the curve of her thigh, until my fingers brushed against her baby fine curls of pubic hair, while my other hand continued to knead her breast. Her inner thighs were soaked, and the smell of her arousal filled the room. Stepdaughter or not, at that moment all I wanted to do was plunge something inside of her wetness, not caring what - my fingers, my tongue, or my throbbing cock. Although Emma remained in control, I was no longer unwilling.
She still had her hand around mine, guided my fingers along her slit until I brushed against the rubbery hardness of her clit.
"Oh, Santa's not the only one with a stiffie," she giggled."It feels so much better than when I just touch myself. Like the pressure is building up to the biggest rush ever. Help me Santa, do to me what you do to Mommy to help her come. Yeah - I know my Mom loves sex, I used to hear her with her boyfriends."
My fingers no longer needed urging, a couple of them piercing her swollen lips to thrust inside while my thumb thrummed against her clit.
"Oh fuck! Oh Santa! This is like the greatest Christmas gift ever." she screamed so loudly that I feared she might awaken my wife. I pressed my lips hard against her mouth to silence her. Her tight young cunt began spasming around my fingers as the waves of climax shook her body, which was still pressed tightly to mine.
As her breathing slowed, Emma broke lose from my kiss, her brilliant eyes shining up at mine. "That was great, but it isn't really the gift I wanted."
Somehow we had almost forgotten that her slender young fingers were wrapped around my massive member. She had been so focused on her desires that her hand simply had cupped my cock. Without more stimulation, I had remained stiff but had not exploded.
"I still want to see a hard cock," Emma said in a little baby girl sort of voice.
"But it shouldn't be mine," I protested feebly. Inside my brain a little voice said 'Better mine than some young punk like the Albertson kid.'
"Please Santa," she purred, her lips again pressing against mine.
"This isn't covered my the mistletoe tradition," I pointed out, pulling back. I felt the edge of the granite counter-top bump against my back.
"I've got an idea," Emma ignored my protests. "Hop up on the counter and lay back, that way your cock should stand straight up and I will see it easily - if you sit on the stool, I might block the light when I kneel down for a close up look."
"I suppose you won't go back to bed and let Santa finish delivering presents until you get your way," I sighed.
"I do sort of take after my mother," Emma copied what I was thinking.
She certainly came a lot like her, I realized, and had the same over-sized clit. While my brain was thinking about such things, my body was quietly obeying Emma's instructions. Once my ass slid along the surface, she kissed me again, the weight of her body against mine pushing me back until I lay supine. I could feel two hearts beating excitedly as Emma lay there for just a moment, hopefully enjoying the feeling of my fat manhood pulsating against her body, the flannel covered tip tucked right at the bottom of her magnificent cleavage. My question was answered by her actions, sliding along my trapped flesh, moaning appreciation.
"If you're not careful, I'm going to cum in my pants, and you won't get to see it fully erect, you'll just see a mess," I warned.
"Can't have that happen," Emma giggled, kissing each of my cheeks before stepping back and standing upright.
My cock was also upright, poking up proudly from the fly of the old style jammies, fully erect and throbbing in anticipation. She had taken her hand away while pushing against me, and now just stood between my legs where they dangled off the counter, her eyes fixed on the gift she had sought.
"Okay, you've seen a hard cock, now go to bed young lady, Santa still has work to do."
Emma did not obey. Instead, she stepped closer, her flesh hot against my knees.
"But, Santa the gift isn't complete until I get a really good look. This is my first time seeing a real hard cock, and I want to be able to remember it well."
Without even asking permission, her fingers found their way back to my manhood, giving the shaft a single delicate stroke from root to the ridge underneath the helmet. She pumped me harder then, making the slit gape open and a drop of precum bubble up. For a second I was afraid she was about to bend over and lick it off, but once she did not, I realized that I was sad that she had not.
Emma toyed with her gift for a moment, shifting it one way and then the other. Her tongue was flashing out first one corner of her mouth, and then the other, and finally, her lower lip softened and she licked along that flesh. Her eyes never left my erection.