But Baby, It's Cold Outside

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring except this horny guy's lips noisily kissing its way up my neck!

Oh, and that mouse scurrying about, warmed by the fireplace, waiting to get its grubby little hands on the Chinese food leftovers we left on the table.

I was sitting on Frank's torn sofa, drinking cheap champagne from a glass he had hastily washed. He had successfully gotten my little hat and my little coat off and got my pretty little butt on his sofa and his arm around my shoulders. Now he wanted my lips.

"Ooh, no, I really can't stay," I said to him.

"Mm, no, no, yes, stay," he begged between kisses to my face.

I chuckled a little and squirmed under him while he tightened his arm around me, locking me in place.

"It was such a nice evening," I said. "Let's end it clean."

"No, no clean, I hate clean, I can't do clean, no more clean," he said. He made his way to my ear while I laughed and weakly tried to push him away. He removed my scarf that was getting in his way. "Yum, yum, yum," he said as he nibbled me. "I want it down and dirty."

"Ew, ew, ew," I said playfully when I felt a tongue in my ear. "Ooh," I cooed when he hit that spot behind my ear. "I'm not a down and dirty girl, you know."

Although for a second I wanted to pull his tie off and rip his shirt open, but I steadied myself.

"My mother," I murmured.

"What about her?"

Kiss, kiss, lick.

"She worries about me," I said. I was a chorus girl who sometimes performed late at night clubs, but she did still want me home at a decent time.

"Tell her, her daughter is in good hands," he said.

"Mm, she won't buy that," I said.

"Tell her you had too much fun and can't go home," he said. "Didn't you have fun?"

"Mm, yeah," I said, staring at the peeling paint of the wall while recalling the past few hours.

Truth be told, he had done everything wrong today. He stammered when he called me to ask me on a date. He took me skating at Rockefeller Center and fell on his ass how many times. He took me window shopping at Macy's but couldn't afford anything for me there. I took him to Montgomery Ward's thinking he'd be able to buy me something, anything. Instead, he got incensed about the Rudolph display, railing on about how much he hated that song. Which was one of my favorites!

But it was his efforts that I appreciated.

That at least earned him a kiss.

He delighted when I turned my face finally to receive him. He got too excited. He moved his body towards me, practically getting on top of me.

"Mm," I said to him while we kissed. I drew him back to his seat. I was going to face him this time and keep control and choreograph this scene myself. I kept my hand on his chest and stomach. "Mm-hm," I said approvingly. He chuckled a little with his mouth full of my tongue. I got careless. I didn't realize my hand was slipping lower and lower until...

He jumped a little. He didn't expect my hand right between his legs. And I didn't expect such a bulging prick, stiff as a board, raging like a bull ready to burst out of its cage!

"Keep going, keep going," he begged.

I shook my head. He nodded. He put his hand on top of mine to hold it there. He smiled happily. I laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Ooh, I need you," he said.

"My father will...will...be so, so mad at me," I said. "And you!"

He couldn't talk. He was too busy rubbing my hand against his prick.

"He's probably pacing the room right now wondering where his wayward daughter is."

He put his arm around my waist and lifted me up, turned me around so I was sitting on his knee. He wrapped his arms around me. All my next excuses got buried in another long kiss.

His hand was getting adventurous, playing with the big buttons of my shirtwaist dress. My legs squirmed under his advance. His hands were on my thighs. My kisses got louder. I was moaning for him to slow down, but I was also holding his face and drinking in his tongue. His hands were on my hips. I rolled too much and felt his erection against my thighs. I gasped when his hands crawled up to my breasts. I gulped and tried to catch my breath as he squeezed. I groaned at how good that felt. And I twitched when he pinched my nipples.

I playfully slapped him.

"Naughty boy," I said and kissed him again. "What will the neighbors think?"

"I don't care," he said. "They're too busy doing Christmas things."

"And we're here doing naughty things."

"Mm, yes."

He pulled me closer. I moved closer to him. I was practically straddling him!

If that hand of his went under my dress, I wasn't sure how I'd react. It had been a while for me. I wasn't like those other chorus girls and nightclub gals who checked off men by the dozens.

Get out of there before you ravish him, Lynn, I said to myself.

"Oh, no, no, no, sir," I said finally, trying to pull away.

He groaned in protest.

"Let me go before the snowstorm comes and, aw, shoot!" I said, looking at the window.

The flakes from earlier had become hard falling snow.

"Ha!" he said. "You can't go now."

"Oh, yes, I can," I said. "Just give me your coat."

"Oh, no," he said. "It's ugly out there. And you're lovely in here. Look at you."

"I can make it."

"No, listen to that chilly wind. You can hear the brr."

"That's not you huffing and puffing like a hungry wolf?"

He growled playfully, but his hands were back on my breasts, his lips back on mine.

"Delicious lips," he said before attacking them again.

There. His hands. On my lap again. Under the dress. Under the slip.

"Oy," I groaned.

My breathing got louder. I was the one huffing and puffing now. I tried to get up but not very hard. He pressed his hand between my legs, squeezed his fingers, and did something to me that made me tremble. I bounced my knees and whimpered to get him to stop. He got the message and removed his hand and returned them to my breasts.

Bad, bad, bad girl, Lynn, I said to myself. Acting like your boy-crazy girlfriends!

I cursed and pushed away from him and staggered back on my feet.

"I should go," I said, catching my breath.

"But baby," he began.

"No, I should," I said.

"It's too blustery out there, look at it."

"It's okay." I shook my head. "People...people will talk."

"Let them. Aw, baby, it's cold outside," he begged. "Stay here with me."

"My sister, she'll think something..."

"That it was too cold outside," he said again.

"It'll be a whole scandal. My aunt likes to talk..."

"But it's cold, cold, cold outside."

"You're starting to sound like a broken record," I said, turning around.

"Hey, let's put on a record and relax," he said excitedly.

I could hear him getting up and coming to me. I could feel his warmth behind me and his arms snaking around me. And his prick. My God, that prick of his, pressing against my buttocks. How do those girls do it so easily? I want that prick and I'm thinking about what my family will think.

He walked me towards the record player. On the machine was "White Christmas."

"Mm, Bing Crosby," I said.

"You like him?"

"Love him."

"I'm jealous."

"Can you sing like him?"

"Not even close." He tried. "And may all your Christmases...," he began in a comically low voice. I elbowed him to stop. He laughed and kept his arms around me. I shifted a little, just to feel his prick again.

"You like him, too?" I said as his hands felt me up.

"I love Berlin. I'm going to be like him," he said. He stopped touching me. "He's a god to me. If I could do half the things he does...! Man. I will. I promise. My dad wants me to do classical music. I can't. This is what I do. This is what I love. I don't know if I'll ever make it. I'll go broke trying though."

I touched the twinkling face of this poor nightclub pianist to bring him back to me. My girlfriends talk a lot about finding rich husbands. They pine for top hats and scoff at flat caps and always get broken-hearted. What if I grew my Man from the ground up?

He kissed my hand.

He let me go and walked towards the fireplace, wanting me to follow.

"It's warmer over here," he said.

"Hmm," I replied.

I bit my lip as he gestured for me to come.

I did a little Charleston dance on my way over to him. He tried to take my hand. Instead, I plopped down on the nice rug on the floor. I knelt and watched the fire.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Snug as a bug in a rug," I said, holding my hands near the flames.

He moved closer to me, still standing.

My head was awfully close to his prick.

I stared at the fire. Then I felt his hand on my head. I gulped. He leaned my head against his erection and caressed my hair. I exhaled loudly and nervously.

He moved his body. His prick rubbed against my cheek. I closed my eyes. My resolve was breaking. It was already broken. I smiled up at him. He wasn't smiling but staring back down at me. I turned to his prick.

And kissed it.

Lynn, what are you doing?

I nuzzled it.

I turned my face and bit at it.

He started unbuttoning his pants.

Oh, God, no, please don't tempt me with this...

And there it was.

It bounced free of his pants and stared at me, waiting for me. I took it in my hand. I stroked it. He sighed. I stroked it faster. He gasped and sighed. I giggled. I kissed it and stroked it some more. I took it into my mouth.

This was safe, I figured. Not really sex yet. It's a service.

At first, I was gentle and ladylike with it, pecking it here, licking it there, only taking an inch into my mouth. But I really, really wanted this prick! After a moment, I was gobbling it into my mouth. I was cupping his balls into my hand.

And I was noisy! I was groaning or growling or gargling as I sucked, sucked, sucked this man's prick. He had his hand on the top of my head. I didn't know if he wanted to slow me down and hurry me up. He even tried to back away, and I held him in place.

I grabbed the prick and yanked him down until he toppled onto the rug with me. I had him lie down while I removed his pants completely. While he took off his shirt, I situated myself between his legs spread wide. His prick was hard and throbbing and gleaming wet under the light of the fire.

I got back to the prick-eating marathon. I was a hungry woman on a mission. I was Iris, a cock-sucking goddess!

"Yum, yum, yum," I said to him as I ate him up, licked him up, and kissed him all the way down to his ball sack. He seemed to love the way I held his prick, held his balls, and kissed all the hot parts in between.

I should've finished him there. I could have. Easy. And it would've been "just a blow job," like my nutty, slutty girlfriends in the chorus line call it.

But another part of my body had been stirring this Christmas night. It needed love, too.

I stood up, towering over him, all sexy and silhouetted with the fireplace behind me. I unbuttoned my dress. He watched with excitement. I pulled off the dress. He squirmed down there, holding his prick and stroking himself. I pulled off the undergarments. I was nude except for my t-strap pumps.

I stood over him with my feet on either side of him.

He held his prick straight up for me.

To his surprise, though, I sat on his face.

And to his credit, he knew what to do.

I smothered his face with pussy. He devoured that pussy with his mouth. Good boy!

I leaned forward and he licked where I wanted. I sat back and he penetrated his tongue where I wanted.

Okay, I'm marrying him, I decided.

I slithered my body back down his body, leaving streaks of wet, and got on top of his prick. I slid my body down on top of him, inserting his hot prick into my warm, wet, eager little pussy. I started slow. Sliding up and down, enjoying it inside me. Then I bounced on him a little faster. And faster. And soon I was wiping the floor with him, thrashing him about.

I was in complete control, but he wasn't having it. He sat up, wrapped his arms around me, and tackled me onto the rug. I yelped and playfully fought him, but he grabbed my wrists and held me down. And he got between my legs.

And he drove that prick into me. Deeper than I thought anyone could.

We stared at each other, him grinning like a devil, me squealing like a mouse, as he began to fuck me. I squeezed his ass and slapped at it. I scratched his back. I grabbed his shoulders. I gripped his hair. My feet in my pumps were in the air as he pounded me hard against the soft rug.

He closed his eyes, tightened his arm muscles, and rammed into me harder.

I touched his face and begged him, "Gentle," in a whisper.

He slowed down.

My whimpering eased into a loud satisfied sigh. I smiled. Trainable. "Oh, Frank," I muttered.

He liked that. He gave me a long, deep, and loving fuck, just to see my face light up with pleasure.

He started pumping faster again. I started squealing again. He gulped. Then he screamed as he came. He dismounted me quickly, and his spunk splashed all over my inner thighs and my navel. I looked down at it, glistening on my body.

Then he collapsed next to me, trying to catch his breath.

We stayed there, despite the chill, warmed by the fire, by each other. While I caressed his hair, I saw the mouse getting on top of the table to sample more of our leftovers. I kissed Frank's forehead while he rested on my breast.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked him in a whisper.

"That this'll make a great song," he muttered.

"What? Don't you dare make a song about this," I said.

He chuckled, but his eyes were on the ceiling, no doubt already writing lyrics in his head. "It'll be great. About two people copulating on Christmas..."

"Ha. That's not very Christmassy..."

"Hmm, good."

"Let's go to sleep, Frank," I said.

He looked at me with a playfully accusatory grin. "Oh, you're staying, huh? But people will talk, your mother, your father, your auntie's brother's sister's neighbor, blah, blah, blah..."

I chuckled and pushed his head back down to my breasts. "Shut up. At least I'll say I tried."

He chuckled, too. Then he stood up and lifted me, carrying me, his new muse, off to his bedroom for more inspiration.