Christmas Joy

She had the right name for the season though she had entirely the wrong attitude. If you want something doing on Christmas Eve, it really helps to be nice to people not come in demanding attention like some snotty nosed bitch.

“I’m Joy Lampton, you have a package for me.”

She pushed the regular delivery slip through the counter slot. I looked at it, noted the address and looked back at her. She was a good looker all right; say late 20’s, very nicely turned out. Still, she could afford to be judging from the address; she lived in one of those mock Tudor jobs just off The Parks, great big front lawns, and whole forests out the back. She was wearing a camel hair wrap over coat, had some sort of fur trim, probably real fur, though I would never have been able to tell the difference. Blond hair, long I guessed, by the way it bunched around the back of her neck, tucked up into a matching fur trimmed hat, a few melting snow flakes nestling on top.

“Can you turn that fucking noise off?”

She nodded her head in the direction of the tree standing in the hallway, she thinks she has problems, I’ve had them for three weeks; the worst thing about this job - those bloody musical Christmas lights.

“I am sorry Mrs Lampton…”

“It’s Ms. Lampton.”

“My apology, Ms. Lampton. Unfortunately, the only way to stop the music is to turn the lights off, I am afraid the bosses will not agree to that. Still snowing is it?”

“Yes, and if I don’t get my package now, it’s going to be even worse and I’ll never get back home.”

Christ, there is hardly an inch of snow on the road, the bitch could walk home in five minutes; She was not going to take this at all well.

“I’m very sorry Ms. Lampton but you will not be getting your package today. Unfortunately because its Christmas Eve…”

“What do you mean? Give me my fucking package you little shit-head.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Lampton there is nothing I can do. Your package will be out on the rounds somewhere, locked in a holding box where they leave stuff that cannot be delivered. They won’t be collected until Tuesday, the earliest you will see your package is next Wednesday when this office re-opens, that’s what five…”

“I can count, I’ve got a fucking economics degree.”

“What a coincidence Ms. Lampton, so have I and I’m studying for a fucking PhD in economics and I still make it five days.”

“How dare you swear at me, get me the Manager you’ve seen that last of this job sonny.”

“I would rather you didn’t call me sonny, Ms Lampton. And don’t worry about threatening me with the sack, us university ‘boys’ all finish in about… oh, seventy five minutes, it’s just a holiday job.” I said scrutinising my watch.

She seemed to decide a different approach was required and lent forward, the front of the coat billowing out letting me view an obviously well maintained neck and shoulders.

“What is your name?”

“Michael, Ms. Lampton. Michael de Grainger, though we don’t use the ‘de’ much in public.”

“Well Michael de Grainger, if you can find my little package I will pay you one hundred pounds, how’s that, it will cheer up your Christmas.”

“Ms Lampton…”

“Please Michael, call me Joy.”

Oh this was fun, she was going to be so pissed.

“There really is nothing I can do. The parcel is out there somewhere, apart from tramping round all the boxes, there is no way to get it for you. I simply don’t have the authority to do that.”

“Two hundred & fifty pounds, I really, really need that package, it’s my partners Christmas present.”

“I can’t, there is nothing to be done.”

She had more coats than a chameleon.

“You fucking obstructive little shit, get me your boss.”

Just then, big Mick came in from the back office, raising his eyebrows.

“Little problem have we, can I help Madam?”

“This student layabout is refusing to give me my package.”

“I’m sorry Madam but the layabout is quite correct, there will be no packages today, come back on Wednesday please. We are open from 8.30am.”

“But it’s a Christmas present, I really need it.”

“Come back on Wednesday Madam, open from 8.30am.”

“Can I speak to the Manager, please?”

“I am the Duty Manager, Philip Jackson”

He pointed at the roster board in the Hall, sure enough there it was Duty Manager – Philip Jackson, I stifled a smile. She turned on her heels and walked toward the turn turning her head saying, “You bastards haven’t heard the last of this.” Slamming the door as she walked out.

Mick and I burst our laughing.

“That was a master stroke Mick.” I said laughing and pointing at the roster.

“Yeh, works every time, stuck up cunt, serves her right.”

Mick went back to the main office, I tucked Ms Lamptons’ delivery card into a pigeonhole; she will need that next week, and continued organising paperwork. A few minutes later the door opened, Ms. Lampton. She walked over to the counter, coat open revealing a very shapely and elegant form clad in some kind of silky material cut low, breasts bulging at the cut edge, hands thrust deep in coat pockets, making sure her ‘package’ was revealed. She was the thin side of well built with the kind of waist and hip combination that you instinctively knew you would have to hold onto for dear life.

“Michael,” all sweetness and light; lips affecting a pout, “I really need that package. You could search the boxes for me and bring it to my house couldn’t you.”

This was getting seriously interesting, the silky thing left very little to the imagination, her nipples punching at the fabric like asparagus tips poking though the soil. Lets see just how far she will go.

“Well I could, but if I get caught I could go to prison, it’s an offence to tamper with the Queens Mail. You would have to make it really worth my while.” I said looking up and down the silky thing.

“What sort of thing did you have in mind Michael?” She leaned forward, breasts nearly spilling from the dress; I reckoned it was only her nipples stopping them from falling right out.

“Well Joy,” I smiled, “it is Christmas, I was thinking of some really special Christmas treat.”

“Right,” she said, looking directly into my face and smiling seductively, “I think we understand each other Michael. Lets say you get that package to me by 5.00pm and I’ll dress up like the fairy on top of the Christmas tree and you can fuck me, do we have a deal.”

I tried desperately to keep the shock off my face; I was thinking she would double the money to five hundred quid! She must need this package desperately, on the other hand, maybe she is used to paying for things with her body, and this is just another deal. Oh well, as the saying goes, ‘Never look a gift horse…’

My dick, already making tents in my tracksuit bottoms, made the final decision.

“Ok Joy, we have a deal, there’s no need for the fairy outfit though; that dress looks good enough for me. But if you’ve got one of those Santa hats, put that on.”

She laughed, blew a little kiss at me, and said as sexily as possible “Before 5.00pm or it is no deal, my partner will be back at 7.00pm and since you have forced into fucking you, I want to have time for us both to enjoy it, believe me, you are going to get the fuck of your life.”

She walked sexily, slowly out of the door, turning her head and smiling at me before disappearing from view.

I laughed aloud, what an actress, there is no way she is going to fuck me. All she wants is the package; she will throw some cash at me and call it quits. Now, think, how can you call her bluff, I don’t think she is shy about using her body to get what she wants, so how can I tip the balance, either way, it’ll be the best Christmas ‘box’, I’ll be getting this year.

I finally got out of the sorting office at about 3.00pm, being the last day for the temporary workers; there were all sorts of nonsense to sort out. I had nicked a holding box key from the transport room, pulled on my overcoat, scarf and gloves and set out. The snow had been coming in fits and starts all day. Everyone excited it was years since there had even been the threat of a white Christmas this near London. It was a couple of inches deep, and I felt like a little kid kicking my way though the snow as I headed out toward Ms Lamptons residence. I should have asked her for the fuck first, what if she holds out on me, naa, she’d never agree to that, she’d want the package first.

I had a pretty good idea where it would be; sure enough, it was there, in the holding box at the end of The Parks. Now which way to Ms Lamptons.

The house was just what I had expected, huge, mock Tudor, big sweeping half moon driveway, Christmas trees either side of the entrance porch with twinkling white lights. Very tasteful, nothing too loud, no music, I thought chuckling to myself. Her tyre tracks along the driveway, virtually covered by snow; I followed what remain of their track path walking through deeper snow where they disappeared off to the garage.

Was I nervous? No, my dick did the talking for me, judging from the calls I still got from girls I had dated. She was in for a surprise, if we got that far. I had a good-sized boner already nudging my trousers in spite of the cold. Was I worried she wouldn’t go through with it? Well, we could have a good laugh, both knowing she was only ever going to pay me money, I’d be happy and be on my way, but if she turned nasty, aggressive again; well, I had a little trick planned for her that might just see her having to earn her present.

I rang the doorbell and heard a distant chime and, after a few seconds, footsteps on a hard floor. The door opened, the very beautiful Ms. Lampton stood there. Great, still wearing that gorgeous dress, looks younger with her hair down.

“Michael, she beamed. Did you manage to find it?”

I waved the package at her, she held out her hand and I pulled it away from her.

“I thought, as its Christmas and everything we should sort of exchange gifts at the same time, you could give me ehm…yours Joy,” I ran my eyes very slowly over the curves of her body finishing staring straight at her fanny, licking my lips, just to make sure she understood, “and I could give this little box.”

“You had better come in.” She held the door open for me and I walked into the marble floored entrance hall.

“You don’t really think I’m going to fuck you do you, my God you are stupid. Take this, its two hundred and fifty pounds, give me the package and piss off before I call someone.” she took an envelope off a side table and passed it to me.

Now, as I said, this could have gone either way; I would have been delighted with the two fifty, but now she was going to have to fuck me. She resorted to arrogance, called me stupid and told me to piss off and I really don’t need that when I have tramped the streets in the freezing snow trying to do someone a favour. I took the envelope, glanced inside, saw five fifty notes undid my coat and put the money in an inside pocket.

“That wasn’t the deal Ms. Lampton, now if you want this little box so badly,” I said, waving it in front of her and putting it back into my pocket, “you had better start thinking about just where you would like me to place this package.” I glanced down at the prominent bulge in my trousers and looked up to see her eyes, widening just slightly and looking in the same direction.

“You impudent little bastard, get out or I’ll call the police.”

She swung a hand at my head. I caught her by the wrist, holding it there in front of my face. I brought her wrist slowly to my face smelling the delicate, fragrance on her skin.

“This smells nice, what perfume is it.”

The question seemed to throw her off guard or maybe it was something else; she seemed to be having some trouble keeping her eyes above my groin, those nipples of hers doing asparagus tricks with her dress front again. She switched approach again.

“Michael, just take your money, you earned it. Just go, or I am afraid I really will have to call the police.”

I still held her wrist running my nose along her soft skinned forearm, tiny blond hairs on her arm, standing erect, just like me. She did smell nice; I wondered what she would taste like.

“Joy, if you call the police, you will have to explain to them why you encouraged me to break into the holding box and just why you offered to fuck me as a reward, I don’t think you really want to do that. Not with your partner due here in, what, a couple of hours.”

She wrenched her arm from my grasp, rubbing at it where I had been gripping.

“And just who do you think they are they going to believe,” she snarled, “me, living in this great big house or you, a penniless student. Now get out. What are you doing?”

I was only taking my coat off, I’m not going to fuck someone with an overcoat on, I would get all sweaty.

“Do you know Joy, you really are very beautiful when you angry, it makes your nipples poke right out, I’m going to enjoy fucking your beautiful body, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.

If I were in your position, I would be thinking exactly that, of course the police will take your side, stands to reason; unless there were incontrovertible evidence to support my version of events, so here is what I did. I took your delivery note that you foolishly left in the Sorting Office and wrote on it ‘Ms Lampton, address below, has offered me the following bribe if I remove this package (noted below) from the holding box and deliver it personally to her home by 5.00pm The agreed bribe is £250 and she promised to fuck me.’ Then I signed and dated it and left it in the box when I removed your package. Now, tell me Joy, whom do you think the police are likely to believe?”

She looked quite taken aback and licked her lips nervously.

“Seems to me you have two choices,” I said. “You can spend Christmas Eve at the police station explaining why you offered me sex to break the law; or, you can get your panties off, accept that your fanny will get a gentle bruising, and a nice warm feeling inside, after all it is Christmas. As you said earlier, we might as well enjoy it, relax a bit.”

She actually smiled. ““You clever little bastard, you’ve worked all this out. By the way I never offered to fuck you and give you two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Right, so we are just arguing over the price now?”

“How about I give you a blow job and we call it quits?”

“No Joy, Oh that’s almost funny – ‘no joy’, no I’m sorry I want to fuck, in fact the more I look at you the more I want to fuck you and the harder it’s getting, how about we go in there and you take your panties off. If you want to give me a blow job as well, that’s fine.”

She looked at me to see if I was really being serious, both sets of eyes travelled across bodies eventually settling around groin level, she seemed to make up her mind shrugged her shoulders and walked into a sitting room gesturing for me to follow. I thought I heard her say something like ‘oh well, it won’t be the first time’ but when I asked what she had said, she just shook her head. Large white linen covered sofas adorned the room another Christmas tree stood along side a white baby grand piano.

She sat on one of the sofa’s the contrast between her electric blue dress and the white sofa startling, adding to her beauty. “Are you really sure you wouldn’t just prefer a blow job, I’ve been told I’m really very good. It’s just that fucking you will be kind of embarrassing.”

“Joy, its just a fuck for Christ’s sake. It’s a business arrangement you made with your body, I’ll fuck you, then I’ll be gone and you can clean yourself up and enjoy Christmas, now would you like to undress. Actually leave that dress on, I think I would enjoy it more, just remove your panties.”

As I said this, I had undone the cord of my tracksuit bottoms and stepped out of them knowing, if nothing else, this should make up her mind for her. My prick, semi swollen for hours now, stood hard and ready poking through boxers adorned with red Father Christmas and, for some perverse reason, green Reindeer. She looked at me, eyes widened and gasped, it’s not very long, but…

If you’re reading this and you have your John Thomas out, or just try this with your boyfriend/partner’s and you will understand her reaction; the average blokes hand and cock are sized pretty much relative to each other. The average bloke can get the tip of his thumb and first finger just to touch around his erect John Thomas, I’m looking down at mine now and between the tip of my thumb and forefinger is a gap of… oh more than 2cm – that’s what she was gasping at.

“Do you still want to give me a blow job?”

She stood there, eyes focussed, unconsciously licking her lips, working the heel of her right palm down and across her pussy, the silky fabric rising up her thighs with each stroke, her left hand on her ribs fingertips massaging the underside of her breast.

“I’m not sure I could open my mouth wide enough to take that, but I owe to myself to give it a try, just as long as I can keep my panties on Michael.”

“No way, I have and urge to see that pussy of yours. Kneel on the sofa please Joy, no turn to face me, I don’t think we would ever get it in there; pull your dress up and lets get those panties down.”

She looked at me, blushing and eased her panties, tanga cut white, high hipped, slowly down her hips revealing one of the most expensive haircuts I have ever seen.

“Now do you see why I am so embarrassed?” She said.

I bent down close to have a look, for the first time in my life more interested in the view rather than the fit. Her pubic hair manicured perfectly in the shape of a Christmas tree, the upper part tight golden blond curls, like the hair on her head, sprouting from a darker curled ‘tub’. All along the extremities of the ‘tree’ what looked like tiny red stars, in fact red droplets of nail varnish as she explained her masterpiece to me.

“That is beautiful,” I said admiringly “an absolute work of art. Now, lets see if we can fit this package under the tree.” My hand stroking along my prick.

I ran my fingertips down along the outer lips of her pussy, silky smooth, not even the faintest trace of hair noting the powder residue on her lips inhaling a deep smell of her. To be honest, it was mostly deodorant and baby powder; I prefer a natural smell.

I stood up, my prick at about her breast height, bobbing in front of her, she hadn’t taken her eyes off it, licking her lips she said, “Christ, I’ve been tingling down there since I had it done yesterday. This,” she ran a finger gently along the top of it, “might be just the thing to stop the itch; if we are going to do this, there’s no kissing, biting or scratching, and above all, you are not to get cum on my Christmas tree.”

“Ok Joy.” I said, “But you’re a bit dry down there, do you want me to…”

“No,” she said licking her lips, “I’ll take care of that now.” Crouching down to bring her mouth more or less level with my dick, she poked her tongue out and lazily licked it across the head, tripping on the piss slit. She watched its involuntary jerk and raised her eyes to me, pure lust. I slipped my right hand down the valley between her breasts moving sideways to free a breast from its silky covering. I cupped and squeezed at her breast, brushing the nipple with fingertips as she lashed my dick head with a saliva laden tongue, juicing it, working her tongue round the rim of the bell end, taking a hand to it to steady it, to stop the jerking reaction from the magic of her tonguing. Much more of this and, well, I’d do a Monika on her dress.

She opened her mouth wide and placed it at my prick head, eyes inviting me to push, tongue licking at the slit spreading what ever pre-cum emerged, I moved my hips forward, about a third of the head disappeared from view, it wasn’t going much further.

“I hope your pussy is not as tight as your mouth Joy.”