An Early Christmas Present

Author's note: It has been a while since I last wrote anything and in all honesty inspiration has alluded me. But a chance meeting last year has provided me with a few scenarios that I thought I could work with.

This is a work of pure fiction, based upon a chance meeting that took place a couple of weeks before Christmas 2020. In the country I live in, Covid 19 restrictions were not as severe, back then, as they were in other countries. Hence the fact that we were able to freely go to restaurants and bars as long as rules regarding masks and distancing were observed...

Ok, here goes...I hope you enjoy my little tale.

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As I lay in bed my vagina and arsehole felt as though they were on fire. It had been some months since I'd had good sex, but my bits had never had such a hammering before.

I was lying on my back, with legs apart and my knees bent, as though I was about to give birth. Both my holes were filled to their capasity with sticky, creamy semen, which now leaked out. The semen that trickled from my battered pussy mingled with that which leaked from my anus and pooled in an increased puddle under by buttocks.

I turned my head to see the reason for my sore parts, snoring softly next to me. He was also lying on his back, his body bereft of a sheet or duvet. His thick, heavy and quite large penis rested on his stomach. Even in its flaccid state, it looked impressive.

As I began to reminisce, about what had recently taken place, it occurred to me that it was time for him to leave. I was thinking that after he was gone, I would put a pair of my panties in the freezer in an attempt to quench the fire that was raging in my nether regions.

So how did I get into this predicament, I hear you ask. Well it wasn't planned that's for sure...

Earlier that afternoon, myself (my name is Hilda, by the way) and two of my work associates decided to meet up after work for a bite to eat and a few glasses of wine.

I will just divulge a little personal information, before we get into the nitty gritty of the story. I'm 64 years old, divorced for 25 years with 2 grown up kids who flew the nest years ago.

I am a 5 foot 6 inch blond, which I wear shortish, with a left side parting and I'd say for my age, my body is pretty good condition. My breasts are a C cup and there isn't much sagging. My large protruding nipples, when I'm aroused, are surrounded by dark areola. It is worth noting that my nipples can also be extremely sensitive when I am aroused and I have been known to orgasm just by tweaking them.

I have a little plumpness around my stomach and while my bottom is not as tight as it was 25 to 30 years ago, I still look good in tight jeans, or trousers.

My pride and joy is my vagina, especially my pubic area. I have a full and luxurious bush of dark blond hair which, while I keep it trim around the bikini line, fills out the front panels any one of a number of a pair of silk panties or thongs that I own. I also make sure that any stray hairs around my labia are shaven off on a regular basis.

I've had a few dalliances in the past, but they never came to anything. In short, I have pretty much lived alone for twenty five years.

I work as the reception manager for a large, city centre hotel, but with Covid 19 on the rise, we've had very few guests, which has made things very quiet indeed. I was told by my boss that if restrictions were tightened anymore, after Christmas, then the hotel would be forced to close temporarily.

The thought of being out of work, after Christmas, filled me with fear and dread. So in order to try and cheer me up, my co workers, Jo and April, booked a table at a local Chinese restaurant.

The plan was simple: eat, drink and make merry. But as we all know, plans are rarely adhered to.

Jo had made the arrangements and as we entered the restaurant, we were shown to our table. The restaurant, one of the oldest establishments in the city, was situated on the second floor of a large complex of buildings overlooking the large city square.

We would have liked a table by the window that looked out onto the square, but it was occupied already by a couple of gentlemen.

As we took our seats, I noticed the men. They looked to be in their late 40's and were quite handsome. They hadn't noticed us, as they were in deep discussion.

Jo noticed me looking at the men and dug me in the ribs with her elbow.

"You'll lose out if you think you're going to bed either of those, " she said. "Look at that guy's ring finger."

I looked closer and saw one of them had a ring on his wedding finger. I couldn't see the other fella's finger because it was hidden from view on the other side of the table.

"Damn," I thought. "Oh well, one can dream I suppose."

The food we ordered was delicious and after eating we decided to stay a while longer and each of us bought a bottle of wine. As the wine flowed, tongues loosened and soon the subject turned from work and the awfully depressing position the virus was about to put us all into, to an even more depressive subject: sex and the lack of it.

Jo complained that her husband appeared to have lost all interest in fucking her.

"No matter what I say or do to try and get him in the mood, he would rather watch sport. My vibrator gets more action these days," she said, as she chugged a large mouthful of wine down her throat.

I have known Jo for a long time. She is a very attractive woman of 55. Tall and slender with long dark hair, that falls over her shoulders. She doesn't need to dress to impress, in flashy clothing, because she has a style that shows off her body in an understated way. The neck line of whatever she wears shows just a hint of cleavage, suggesting she has large, firm breasts, which she does. Bigger then mine. Her waist is narrow and naturally draws your eye to her slender hips and perfectly formed bottom. Sometimes she will wear trousers that accent the curve of her buttocks, other times she wears dresses or skirts that hug her beautiful contours.

Now, I am not gay or bi, but if I was alone in a locked room with Jo, I might not be able to keep my hands off of her. Which is why I was surprised and puzzled by her admission that her husband wasn't interested in her sexually, anymore.

"Maybe you should have an affair," replied April.

I wasn't surprised by April's suggestion. She is the youngest of us, at 47 years old. Quite vain. She changes the colour of her graying hair almost as much as changes her underwear. She goes the gym, three times a week, dressed in tight micro-fibre outfits to impress and attract anyone who sees her. Her husband who is 7 years her senior has let himself go over the years. He was heavily into weight training, but after reeling April in, he stopped trying to impress and fell into a comfortable existence with her. Comfortable for him, but not for her.

April was a real catch and she can still attract plenty of male attention, both old and young.

Yes, her suggestion came as no surprise, but Jo's response caused my eyebrows to raise.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it, " she replied. "But it's just not in my nature to cheat and for all his faults, Ben is a good man and I couldn't live with myself if I hurt him like that."

I found my concentration drifting and turned my attention once more to the gentlemen seated at the window table.

They were chatting over chicken chow mien and chicken in black bean sauce.

I also noticed quite an array of empty and half empty beer glasses on the table.

One of them wore a black shirt, Levi jeans and very stout walking shoes. His hair was dark brown and quite messy, like he couldn't be bothered to comb it before he left his home.

His friend, who I felt very attracted to, wore a polo shirt, under a V necked sweater, Levi jeans and sneakers. His hair was styled short, with that salt and pepper colour that I have always found sexy on a man, because it gives him a distinguished look. I could tell that he had used wax or some other kind of hairdressing product to keep it in place.

"I quite like the look of that one," I said, as I watched them pay their bill and ready to leave.

The grey haired guy briefly looked over in my direction, with both his hands dug deeply into his jacket pockets. I think he noticed me watching him, because he leaned into his friend and whispered something. The two looked over at us and smiled, whilst they donned their coats.

My heart started to thump against my chest as they walked over to our table.

The man with the messy hair introduced himself as John and introduced his friend, the man that I fancied, as Tony.

We ladies introduced ourselves too.

Tony appeared to be very quiet, almost bordering on shy. So I asked him if he enjoyed the food. He stuttered with his answer a little bit, but told us that it was very nice.

"I notice that you have quite a few beers on the table," I said, in an almost flirtatious way.

"Yes," replied John. He appeared to be the more confident of the two of them. But I still found Tony's shyness cute and appealing. "Well it'll soon be Christmas, so we've got a good excuse for it."

Jo pointed out that we had three bottles of wine and there were three of us and three more bottles had been ordered and were on their way.

"I suppose you're planning to have a good time then," replied Tony.

"That's the plan," I replied. "Why don't you join us?"

They both shook their heads, to my disappointment.

"We have another appointment," replied John. "Our wives wouldn't be too pleased if we were late home."

"But thanks for the offer," added Tony. "Under any other circumstances, we could have made a party of it. But not today."

With that, they said goodbye and left.

"Tough luck, Hild," commiserated April. "He was quite a looker that quiet one. I'd have had him myself, given the chance."

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As I sat in the taxi, going home, I realized that I could not stop thinking about Tony. I had allowed myself surreptitious glance at the front of his jeans and had noticed a sizeable lump there. As the image kept repeating over and over in my mind, I could feel myself beginning to get very horny.

After the taxi had dropped me off outside my apartment building, I paid my fare and hurried inside.

Once inside, I locked the door and turned off my phone. I walked quickly to my bedroom, kicking off my shoes and removing my coat as I went. I closed the curtains and stood in front of the wardrobe mirror.

"This wasn't fair," I thought. "Here I am, highly horny, in need of a large cock to satisfy my hunger and no one to take care of my need."

I unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it over a chair. My nipples were hard and clearly visible through the diaphonous material of my store bought bra. I teased myself, tweaking my nipples though the sheer fabric. My movements sent to shockwave from my breasts to my pussy. I slid my hand under my skirt and felt the gusset of my panties. I was very wet.

I unclasped the bra and tossed it over the same chair as my blouse. Next I unzipped my skirt and let it drop to the floor.

I stood for a moment, admiring my naked torso and abdomen. Despite my age, my tits didn't droop too much. My nipples stood proud of their darker coloured areola, like pencil erasers. I tweaked them again and a little more of my pussy juice leaked into my sodden gusset.

I rolled my panties down over my hips and to my knees. Then I shimmied them to my ankles. I pride myself on my luxurious pubic bush. I trimmed it around the bikini line and make sure all the hair is removed from my labia and anus. I once shaved it all off, out of curiosity. I didn't like the look and hated the itching when the hair grew back.

I climbed onto the bed and switched on the light on my nightstand. Then I opened the drawer and removed two items: my ruby ended butt plug and an eight inch vibrator.

I also retrieved a small bottle of silicon oil. I lubricated the butt plug and slowly inserted it into my welcoming anus, pushing it slowly passed my anal sphincter, enjoying the feeling of being full and onward until the bejeweled end prevented it from going further inside me. I was so wet from anticipation that there was no need to lube up my vibrator. I switched it on and listened to the comforting hum of my play tool. I placed it near to the opening of my vagina and pressed it against my slick, puffy labia. Tingles ran through my body and I had to move it away because I was about to cum. I wanted to hold off on that enjoyment until I had a clear picture in my mind about the fantasy I wanted to use.

Tony's face was clear and smiling, in my mind's eye. I could only imagine what he would look like naked. I figured that he was probably not ripped or heavily muscular. He didn't seem the type that looked after his body that way. But he also didn't seem to be the kind of guy that would let himself go either. It was hard to guess, so I settled on him being of average build, with maybe a slight tummy, but definitely not overweight. Again, I could only imagine what his cock looked like. Of course, I could have imagined that he was hung like a horse, but that wouldn't have been true. I guessed that he probably had a seven inch penis, which was thick, circumcised and heavily veined. He was standing in front of the bed, his manhood at full erection and pair of heavy balls swinging below.

I closed my eyes and once more moved my vibrating "boyfriend" along my open and very wet slit. I slid the tool into my pussy and began to slowly move it in and out. The vibrations from my toy were picked and amplified by the plug in my bum. The feeling was wonderful and I was doing all I could from not exploding. I was trying to imagine Tony sliding his full length into my wanting cunt and fucking me deep and slowly. Man, he could really fill me up. I could come at the drop of a hat, but I really wanted the feeling to build until I could take it no longer. I imagined that Tony was a caring lover, who took his time with whatever woman he was with. I pushed my vibrator in as far as I could and held it there with my muscles. The vibrations were off the charts and so I removed the plug and tossed it to one side.

"Okay Tony," I said, under my panting breath. "Take me hard from behind." I rolled on to my stomach and on to my hands and knees, pushing my bum into the air. I could feel my juices running out of my squelching pussy and down my thighs. I parted my legs and reached behind me, with the vibrator. My anus was ready for the intrusion and the tool slid nicely into my anal channel. I reached out and into my nightstand again and found a small finger vibrator, which I slipped onto my middle finger and switched on. I buried my face into the mattress as I reached behind to take control of the vibrator in my bum. I moved it back and forth and gently slid the finger vibrator over my engorged clit. The result was explosive. The orgasmic wave that hit me made me lose all self control. A huge jet of liquid erupted from my pussy, arched across the mattress and landed with a splatter on the carpet at the foot of the bed. I was shaking, panting and moaning all at the same time. My body stiffened, slacked and then stiffened again. I collapsed on the bed, my anal muscles ejecting the vibrator.

I lay there for a few minutes, regaining my composure and trying to work out what the hell just happened. I had masturbated many times in the past and had had great orgasms plenty of times. Even during the most boring of sex sessions with guys I had been with, I had managed to come (no pun intended) out of it with at least one good orgasm. But this was something completely different. I could not recollect ever having such an explosive and intense orgasm that caused me to squirt. For some odd reason, I had become a squirter. I reasoned that this orgasm had been created out of the imagery created by my fantasy over Tony. A man I didn't even know and would probably never see again. Hell, I didn't even get his surname or phone number. I couldn't call him or even find him on social media.

I rolled onto my back and began lazily playing with my clit. Once again,I conjured up Tony's face in my mind and imagined all his other attributes and once again, after a short time, I exploded with yet another squirting orgasm.

While I thanked Tony, in my mind for another terrific orgasm, I knew that all this fantasizing would get me nowhere and resolved that I would never see Tony again and most definitely never have the chance to find out what kind of a lover he really was. So I decided to put him completely out of my mind and get on with my life.

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Someone once told me to never say never. Fate usually had a habit of biting you on the bum when you least expected it.

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It was a couple of days later, in the middle of the afternoon and I was driving home. The rain was coming down in biblical amounts. So much so, that whenever I came to road junction, I waited to see if Noah was sailing his ark down the street.

I was almost out of the busy city centre when I spotted him, standing, shivering and wet through, at a bus stop.

It was Tony.

My heart skipped a beat. I really didn't think that I would ever run into him again.

He obviously hadn't dressed for the occasion. His sodden t-shirt, sweatshirt and soaked through jeans told me that. Luckily the street wasn't all that busy. The bus was nowhere to be seen and he looked dejected, cold and demoralized. I tooted my horn and pulled over to where Tony was standing. He was staring at the ground, but he looked up as I pulled over to the curb and wound the window down.

"Hi, remember me?" I asked. He looked up and smile creased his lips.

"Sure," he replied. "The Forbidden Palace, two days ago."

"I could give you a lift, if you like. You looked soaked."

" Thanks," he replied, shrugging his rucksack from his shoulder. "I'm freezing."

He threw his bag on the back seat of my car and climbed into the front seat, beside me.

"I'll apologize now, if I soak your upholstery," he said, as he put his seat belt.

Although I didn't say anything, the only thing that was getting soaked was the gusset of my panties.

As I drove on, I asked him where he lived and as luck would have it, he only lived a street away from me.

A devious plan began to form in my mind, but I wasn't sure if it would work.

"I have an idea, if you're okay with this," I began. "Why don't you come back to my flat. We can throw you clothes into my tumble dryer, you can warm up with a shower and I can make us both a nice cup of tea."

He nodded and said that it sounded like a great idea.

I looked for the ring on his finger, but couldn't see one. So I asked him he was married.

He looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled.

"Ah, " he replied. "I think you're referring to what John said in the restaurant, about getting home to our wives."

I nodded.

"No, I am not married," he continued. "John always says that when he wants to get out of what he considers to be a tricky situation with women. Neither of us actually have wives, or girlfriends for that matter. John is single and I am a widower."

My heart almost broke when he said that.

"Oh I am so sorry, " I replied and absent-mindedly placed my hand on this thigh. His very damp and cold thigh.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. "Thank you, but I'm fine. She died ten years ago. Cancer. You never get over it, but learn to live with it. I've been single ever since, but by choice, not because of being a widower."

Having heard that sad tale, I wasn't sure if I could carry out my plan, but something Tony said helped me decide.

"I maybe a widower, but I'm not dead," he said. "I may not be single by choice, but I haven't lived like a monk either."