Under the Mistletoe

You moved your head back and began to play with yourself, ignoring my throbbing cock in front of you. I wouldn't make the first move, damn it. I reached down to my shaft and began to stroke it in time with your own finger movements up and down those sweet smelling sensuous pussy lips. I didn't know if I could stop my interest from overtaking my stubbornness for you to initiate this mistletoe kiss, and after five minutes decided that I needed to initiate in order to feel your warmth surrounding me. This was it; I bent my head towards your hips, half thinking that his was where I would get a knee to the chin and my swollen cock bitten off, but I felt your hot breath grazing the very tip of my cock. I kissed and nibbled the soft skin of your inner thigh as you rolled your tongue along the circumference of my sac. I let my hands rove over your hips, ass cheeks and legs, giving licks and kisses around your pussy without actually tasting the flesh whose aroma made my own sex throb wildly.

I finally brought my finger up to your hot moistness and traced the outline of your vaginal folds as I rolled my tongue after it; you responded in kind by gliding your tongue along my hardness and swirling it around my sensitive, pre-cummed tip. As I let my mouth fully touch your vaginal lips, you swallowed my cock deep into your mouth, your hands putting pressure on my ass and pushing my hips closer to your face.

I should have pulled away, got dressed and walked away, I had fully intended to but your taste and the way your plump clitoris looked as I stuck my tongue into your hot hole put that thought to the very back of my mind. Soon I established that you loved my tongue run the length of your vulva slowly and then around the base of your clit -- you were kind enough to grind hard against my face when I did so. I couldn't get over how good your lips felt against my hardness, the softness of the caresses of my balls. Without even thinking about it, we were face fucking the other in time with the other's hip movements.

I had no idea what the fuck we were doing, after all, we were supposedly both to be social pariahs; unable to feel any kind of emotion -- yet as what we were doing wasn't something mechanical or aloof.

You slid a well-lubed finger into my rectum, I let out a surprised grunt and you withdrew your finger to the edge and circled the opening with your fingernail. Contrary to my reputation, I can take a hint; I moved my two fingers out of your sopping hole and traced your inner lining with my pinkie finger, getting it thick with your juices. Then I brought it out and slid my longer fingers back in and spread my pinkie until the droplets of your own excitement dribbled onto your anus and to slide my pinkie slowly back and forth, each time letting the tip penetrate your tightness a little farther. I started to get a rhythm going: as my tongue darted along the hood of your clit, my fingers and pinkie thrust in time, picking up speed with your moans you let escape through the lips that hungrily glided along my pulsating shaft.

The furious finger fucking of your pussy and ass had made you regain your resolve to penetrate mine with your finger more forcefully, the extra sensations started to make my head spin. Your hips began to buck back and forth violently and a torrent of your lust splashed onto my hands and slickened my neck, I withdrew my long fingers and just finger fucked your ass and moved my lips down to your own vaginal lips and curled my tongue like a ladle to bring your taste into my own mouth.

With every lap of my tongue into you, you quickened your pace along my length and the your hole thrusting. I could feel my cock pulsating against the sides of your mouth; I would be cumming soon no matter how much I wanted to resist and let you continue to roll your tongue along. I started to move my hips counter to your movements, you seemed to sense how close I was and you took your mouth off my cock and took your finger from my ass and began to stroke my member while you flicked my tip with your tongue.

I groaned loudly as I felt the pressure and the cold draft hitting my tip, I couldn't take this, I had to cum and I had to cum so you could drink me as I had drunk you. I took my pinkie from your anus and grabbed the back of your head and thrust my hips forward to push my cock deep into your mouth. You didn't resist as you felt the waves of ejaculation flowing through and splashing onto the back of your throat. With your hand you began to rub my pubic hair furiously, the heat making me cum even harder. With every jettison, I found myself moaning, "baby." Even once I had dribbled the last bit into your throat, I didn't want my cock out of your mouth, and you made no move to eject it from you but slowly slid your lips down to the base and then back up to my tip, nibbling the flesh as you went along it.

I took my hand from the back of your head and rolled onto my back, your mouth made a popping sound as my semi flaccid member resisted leaving the warmth of your mouth. You rolled onto your back as well, rubbing your pussy with your hand and murmering, "Oooh that was good," while I just relished to feeling of your cum rolling down my neck and dripping onto the carpet.

"Merry Christmas, bitch," I said.

"Merry Christmas, ass wipe," you responded, then added, "Now that was what I call a kiss under the mistletoe. Too bad there wasn't anything traditional for a fuck."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Because I would really want to feel your cock inside my pussy," you responded.

"And we simply can't because?"

"A kiss is just a kiss." You answered. "A kiss under the office mistle toe means nothing -- no matter what kind of kiss it is. Anything else could lead to an awkward moment."

Damn, you knew how to mentally fuck a guy up, now I really wanted to know if you were half as good physically. It didn't help that when I turned my head the sopping mats of your pubic hair gave of such a powerful aphrodesiac. I thought of sitting up so I could see your face, but I knew that I would swiftly move to mount you which you had just said wouldn't be happening. I had to know your reasoning though.

"How so?"

You didn't make a move to get up either as you with an emotionaless tone, "Because when it comes right down to it, to get the position I'm going to have to rip your balls off -- something I can't do if they're busy slapping my ass."

I had to concede that was true -- for my part too, I'd have trouble ripping your tits off and shoving them up your ass if they were pressed against my chest. We could excuse this away to mistle toe, but anything else, it would be a little more of murky area to rationalize.

I lay there for several minutes, letting my breath and heart rate begin to slow back to its ordinary pace with my eyes closed. I thought that maybe a fuck could be considered a sort of a mandatory office gift thing, I wondered if you had thought of that, maybe I should ask to see if we were on the same page but I didn't. I didn't want to look at you; partially for fear that you wanted more, partially for fear that you didn't. I heard you sit up and start to put on your clothes.

"Come on," you said in a business-like tone, "We've got work to finish up so we can get out of here and to..."

You couldn't finish the sentence with "our families"; we both knew that our Christmas day would be spent at our respective homes watching TV eating a microwavable turkey dinner with our rum and eggnogs constantly being drained and refilled until we believed our own lies of solitary bliss while watching Alister Simm's "A Christmas Carol" provided background noise...

I opened my eyes, you had your back turned to me bent over, straightening out the front of your pleated dress. I looked up and smiled at the mistletoe that hung above me. I wanted to get up, grab my clothes but I just laid there and watched the little movements of your ass cheeks. My limp cock did a little hop. Maybe, I thought I could think of this Christmas like Vegas; what happens at Christmas stays at Christmas. You sensed that I was watching you so you turned around with a resigned, embarrassed look on your face, as if you wanted to just pretend this hadn't occurred. I don't know what exactly it was, whether it was my imagination or not, but I could swear that their was a glistening in your eye that made my decision for me.

I stood up, grabbed the mistletoe and hung it over your head and gave you a little peck on the cheek. "You know, Christmas comes only once a year," I said as I leaned close to your quickly reddening ear lobe, "But that doesn't mean we have to." The edge of your lips curled up slightly as I waited for your response...