Stocking Fillers - Erotica Read online

  His hands play down my belly and reach my forest grove. He slips a finger in to feel wetness flooding out of my pussy. Gently his fingers flutter over my clit before delving back in to my desire, my juice noisy to his touch. I guide his hard cock to my garden and plant his throbbing tool there. He moves and ploughs into me with a sharp intake of breath. The sapling against my back scratches at my neck and that heady smell of pine invades every trembling nerve in my body. An orgasm throbs through me and my pulsing pussy walls grab at his busy tool.

  He moves gently deeper into my pleasure garden lifting me physically to fill me up. I moan as my clit connects with the base of his shaft and the spasms of another orgasm take over. I buck against him, taught, clinging to his shoulders. He becomes urgent, faster and faster until we both cry out together with joy as his come spurts into me. He holds me to him and whispers in my ear just as the sapling breaks and we tumble to the ground.

  Then he's gone. I'm lying on the hard frosty path, the broken sapling under me and a man standing above looking down at me, concern etched in the lines of his face.

  'Are you all right miss?' he asks. 'Gave me quite a turn seeing you fall like that.'

  I'm panting, feeling the pulsing orgasm subside as I gaze around in disbelief. I look down at my clothes but the wool coat is done up tight. He holds out a gloved hand to help me up. I'm shaking and cold as a corpse.

  'I'm sorry about your tree,' I say, my voice comes out unnaturally high, squeaky.

  'Not to worry, you must have slipped on the path. It's the ice, we can't salt the path or we'll damage the trees.'

  'I'll take this one though,' I say to him pointing at the broken tree.

  He picks it up and studies it. 'It's a good looking specimen of Douglas Fir, not damaged except at the base. I'll just tidy it up for you in the store and get it wrapped in netting. You sure you're OK?'

  'I'm fine,' I reply. 'I just want to walk a little.'

  The gardener moves off with the tree and I look about me. Gabriel's gone, like that last day of summer all those years ago. I'd waited on the beach next to his clothes for ages before raising the alarm. They said it was a unusual rip tide that took him. He was a strong swimmer. They found his body the next day. The memory is so strong again but this time it's different. His voice still whispering those words in my ear, a ghost of the past.

  'Love life.'

  I feel a sense of peace within me for the first time since that fateful day and the smell of the pines suddenly makes me happy. I walk back to store.

  I squeeze the bound tree into the bench seat at the back of the car and get in. As I drive back suffused with it's aromatic smell I smile. Spectral flakes of snow fall on the windscreen and the wipers brush them aside.

  I start thinking about how we will dress the tree together that evening, Paul, me and the kids. I have finally said goodbye to my ghost from my past. Gabriel is placed carefully in my heart where it no longer hurts. He is not lost, he will be a happy part of each Christmas and I can look forward to that with my loving family.

  Sugar and Spice

  by T.H. Rusty

  Sandra placed the tray of cookies on the table, joining its brethren covering every empty space in her kitchen. It's not that Sandra enjoyed the conveyor belt of sugary treats, it was because everyone else at this time of year does. Christmas is one of those times that allows people to just go crazy, pig out, undo the belt and let gluttony take over. Sandra looked down at the latest batch of cookies and thought to herself, if she coated herself in chocolate and sugar would she be as desirable?

  The life of the book store owner doesn't leave a lot of time to socialise, especially around this time of year. People seem to throw themselves in her shop for that last minute present for someone they barely know. In those instances people come to a book store, because, who can say no to a good classic? Or at least pretend to be thankful for it.

  The life of a book store owner is also not exactly a rich affair, she considers. She knows she isn't scraping by, but it's not exactly high life living. Hence the cookies. Cookies or gingerbread men or cupcakes are a great way to get a present out of the way for a fraction of the price. Also people seem to think that you have put effort in to it, making it a heartfelt gift.

  Utter rubbish, baking is easy and cheap. Sandra moved one of the cooler batches in to a box and carefully wraps, placing it next to the rest on her dining room table. The collection of smells swirls around her, tickling her taste buds and making her daydream of old family get togethers. Sealing the box with a soft ribbon she attaches a small card with just a name on it.

  'David'.

  David has been Sandra's neighbour for around four months now and the only conversation she has been able to bring herself to say is about trivial items of the day. The weather, how work is, what he is cooking for dinner to name a few. It's not that she doesn't want to talk, she wants to talk to him every second of every day, she just can't. A life of work and more work hasn't left her very forward and it's a rut she has found herself in for quite some time. This little gift is her way to try and make an impact, seem like a 'normal' person in her eyes. At least, that's what she hopes it will do.

  Double checking the latest batch out of the oven she motions to the mirror to check herself one last time before going to his door. She's a natural blonde, dark not strawberry, and hasn't done much to her appearance all day. Owning the shop means overall appearance goes out the window, hence the incredibly un-ironed shirt, she thinks to herself. And the fact her socks do not match. Neither does her underwear. Trying to straighten out her shirt out she catches her eye in the mirror. She hasn't done anything like this for a long time, not since Simon walked out because of her 'commitments'. Ever since then she has just got on by, not really looking out for 'that' guy. Until he came along.

  Sandra still isn't 100% sure what he does, something in the financial district if she remembers correctly. A tall man who never seems to wear anything more professional than a polo shirt, he instead wears an air of irresponsibility she finds exciting. Maybe it is because she is so cautious that this makes her weak at the knees, or maybe it is just that she can't get his image out of her head. Those thin lips in desperate need of kissing, eyes that could burn a million dirty thoughts in her mind.

  She snaps out of her daydream as she hears floorboards creaking outside. Her heart skips a beat as she can hear him get out and subsequently drop his keys. Only now does she fret, can she do this? He might have a boyfriend or not 'like' girls or have had a bad day or anything! 'Don't be a chicken Sandra, do it' she thinks to herself. Flinging the door open she is confronted with David, bent over picking up his keys. He sheepishly looks over at her, shopping bags at his feet.

  'Hey, sorry, did I disturb you?' he asks, that smile already making her melt away.

  'Oh no! I...I...'

  'Yes?'

  'I just wanted to give you this as a Christmas present and hope you enjoy and that you will probably go away so I hope you have a good Christmas and I hope you like these and...well, yea.'

  David blinks a couple of times in silence, his eyes locked on her.

  'Well that was certainly different.'

  Sandra blushes every shade of red imaginable, her outburst not at all in keeping with how she presents herself. She awkwardly shuffles her feet in the silence.

  'But, thank you.'

  She begins to move round and re-enter her apartment, trying to keep from exploding with embarrassment.

  'Sandra?'

  She turns to his voice while thinking to herself, 'God I wish I heard that every morning'. Returning to face him she sees he has opened his door and is reaching inside.

  'I got you something too, just as a thank you.'

  'A thank you for what?' she asks, searching through her memories to think of anything she has helped him with.

  'Well for welcoming me here, making me feel at home and...'

  'Yes?'

  'Thank you for being the first thing to make me smile in th
e day.'

  Sandra turns a shade of red never seen before as David hands her a small box. Small and purple she eyes is as David looks on.

  'Well go on, open it!'

  Nervously she opens the box, not truly expecting what she'll find.

  Opening it up she sees a small flower, dried but recognisable.

  'I needed an excuse, so thought mistletoe would be a good present.'

  She looks up at his eyes, smiling broadly.

  'The best.'

  Pulling in to each other David gently places his arm around her and kisses. Sandra feels like her entire body has been given an electric shock, goose bumps upon goosebumps. His lips feel warm to hers, like when you dip your toe in to a warm bath and feel instantly relaxed. She slips her hand also round his, feeling his shape as they pull closer. She'd always dreamt of this and now here it was, and she wasn't wasting a minute.

  Their kissing becomes more frantic, heated, passionate. Their hands swarm over each other like they are mapping every inch of each other. She bites his lip, smiling as she does so. It is like a dream to her, getting what she wanted. His hands reach up and cup her face, holding her close as he kisses deeply. She allows herself the luxury of her tongue to explore his, gently at first but soon as entwined as their bodies. She finally pulls away from him for a second to think, to collect her thoughts.

  'Well that certainly was a good Christmas present...what I always wanted,' she smiles as she speaks.

  'Do I smell baking?' asks David?

  Sandra lets out a loud laugh to his surprise.

  'David, you have no idea.'

  'Well mind if I join in?'

  She looks at him again, then down at the mistletoe.

  'It would make my Christmas!'

  A Christmas Carole

  by

  Mouna Lott and TH Rusty

  Nick scowled on his way to meet the lads down the local. He’d been working the second job for six weeks and tomorrow was his last day. Working day and night without pause had left him exhausted and unable to fulfil his duties as a mate. Thinking about it, he didn't even remember the last time they’d all gone out together. He hoped they wouldn't ask what he'd been up to.

  He walked into the pub and immediately the cold December air was replaced by the yeasty smell of spilled beer in the garish carpet heightened by the warmth of a bar full of patrons. Tinsel groped every lamp and a large Christmas tree had squeezed itself in between the cramped dark wood tables. The noise ricocheted off the tiny interior and he heard the unmistakable howl of his brother laughing. He wandered over to the table and smiled at the guys sitting with their drinks. They clocked the festive bag.

  ‘Ho ho ho! And where have you been hiding? Are those our presents in that sack?’ laughed his mate Josh.

  Nick hesitated for a minute standing awkwardly wondering whether he should tell them .

  ‘Not a chance! I haven't been working a second job, been slaving away day and night so I can throw gifts at you buggers. I'm being a good dad this year.’ he said defensively.

  ‘Hey drinks are on Nick!’ said Carl, lifting his beer to salute Nick. His other mates cheered.

  ‘Not likely. Every penny is for Christmas guys. Kid's presents and the food. I've paid for all that. Then there's the new baby coming in less than a month now. It’s not like I’m paid THAT well,’ backtracked Nick, beginning to wonder if he should have just gone home to the small two bedroomed flat on the sink hole estate he wanted to move away from.

  Something about his demeanour stopped his friends urging him to the bar for another round and Nick relaxed, knowing that they understood. He sat down on the stained velvet covered chair and looked around. Jimmy, his brother stood up.

  ‘What do you want Nick? My shout.'

  ‘A Guinness thanks,’ he replied.

  ‘So come on Nick, let us in man. What's with the secrecy?’ asked Josh picking up his drink and and taking a swig.

  ‘It's not that big a secret really. I'm Santa Claus in Handleys, the toy shop in the precinct. One day to go, then I'm done, if you must know,’ said Nick quietly. There was a pause to the conversation, followed quickly by an outburst of laughter.

  ‘You got to be joking!’ said Josh when he controlled himself.

  'Oh it's Saint Nick!’ laughed Alex. ‘Better get enough booze down you so you can get that stomach going.’

  'Do you have a nice saucy little elf to help? Getting in some over time with her?' Carl smirked.

  'Carole isn't like that. It's just a job,' Nick mumbled.

  'Ha ha Saint Nick and a Christmas Carol,' laughed Jimmy hearing the end of the conversation. He placed the pint glass in front of Nick.

  While the others laughed Nick shrank self consciously into himself. Actually, Carole was like that. He'd resisted her blatant advances and gorgeous body for six weeks. She was the most tempting creature he'd ever encountered.

  His body was the antitheses of a father Christmas figure, slim, toned sharp angles to his face and a carefully groomed shock of blond hair. Only twenty three, he had a wife and two kids while mates of his age were still single, into one night stands and clubbing. He smiled to himself because he loved his family and was determined to get enough cash together to make it special. They didn’t understand that he's hung up his philandering hat and was now the dutiful husband.

  It didn't stop him fantasising about Carole though. Carole was gorgeous. He'd had a few wet dreams over the last few weeks where she'd been in the act of giving him a perfect blow job. Even thinking about it now got him horny.

  He drank his beer slowly, listening to his friends talking about Christmas and New Year plans and which girls they were seeing. He drained his glass and got up to leave.

  'Have another,' said Josh getting money out of his jacket.

  'No thanks, I've got to get over to the club. There's a big office party tonight and my shift starts in half an hour. Jimmy, I'll see you Christmas lunch at mum's, have a great Christmas guys,' he said shrugging his way into his jacket and heaving the bag onto his shoulder.

  The evening went quickly in it's busy fever of Christmas indulgence. Nick felt left out, grown up before his time. The music pulsed through him and he strained to hear the requests for drinks from the party goers, the flirting girls clad in skimpy tops showing off ample cleavages and skirts barely covering their panties. He got off at three and braced himself for the couple of kilometres he'd walk home with the cold northerly wind chilling his bones. The night bus was a half hour wait so he'd be home before it even got to the bus stop. He collapsed into bed beside Sharon after a perfunctory shower. Her ample warm sleepy body snuggled into his murmuring in her sleep. Knackered from the being on the go for twenty hours he crashed out.

  It felt like he'd only just closed his eyes for a second when he was woken up by his son jumping up and down on the bed shouting and singing, ‘Rudolf the red nosed reindeer’ over and over at the top of his voice. He smiled, knowing it would be noisier tomorrow when they opened all the presents that they’d asked for in their Santa letters.

  He crawled into some fresh clothes and wandered into the tiny kitchen. Sandra was boiling the kettle still in her dressing gown, her large body showing the new life she carried. She had let herself go after their second was born. The slim body and long hair that had got him hooked at eighteen had been replaced by a short bob that was in need of attention and a body that squeezed into the size eighteen maternity clothes she needed. He loved her whatever size she was, she was always up for it when they got the chance. She was a great mum to the kids and always managed to feed them and get the bills paid without getting into debt unlike some of the other families on the estate.

  ‘We don’t need to go round my mum’s before midday tomorrow do we?’ he asked wrapping his arms around her and kissing the back of her neck. ‘I want to give you an early morning Christmas present while the kids are occupied. I’m so hot for you my cock is going to explode.’

  ‘Well I need to give your mum a hand with the
cooking. She’s not getting any younger and with this being the first Christmas without your dad she'll need the support. It's not like your Jimmy's going to be much help. There's a lot to do.’

  He nibbled her ear lobe and snuck a hand inside the towelling robe rubbing it over her swollen belly and up to cup a melon sized breast in his hand.

  ‘`I love it when you talk practical,’ he joked.

  She pushed him away laughing, her body wobbling, breasts swaying, visible where he had pulled at the drawn robe.

  ‘Maybe when Santa comes home early tonight he’ll find a present waiting in his sack,’ she said opening the dressing gown completely and holding both breasts towards him and rubbing them. Her large rounded belly hid her snatch from view but his cock stirred, thinking of how good it was to push his manhood into her from behind. Her pussy was so tight from protecting the baby it was his favourite time to have her. He ran a hand over the bump and down between her legs to stroke her pussy lips.

  ‘You keep that hot for me gorgeous,’ he whispered feeling her wetness from his gentle stroking.

  ‘Oh Nick. I love you. You know I’m really proud of you doing this extra work for us. I miss you so much,’ she said kissing him, big blue eyes staring into his.

  ‘But we can have time together after New Year honey,’ he whispered.

  ‘Fat chance silly. The baby’s due then. It’ll be sleepless nights and all hands on deck,’ she laughed turning the caress into a cuff around the head as though knocking some sense back into a love sick puppy.

  Their eldest marched in to the kitchen and the robe closed swiftly before he saw anything.

  ‘I want breakfast,' he shouted wrapping himself around his mum’s leg.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it pet,’ Nick said. He drank a quick cup of tea, pecked a kiss on her distracted face and hurried to get to the bus into town. He smiled to himself. He might not be going out with the lads much but he loved the kids, and Sharon was still good fun even if it was quickies or the odd night when the kids were with grand parents or having afternoon naps. His bar job meant that Sharon was usually asleep when he came home. But life was good and he had fun working the bar at the club. He never started before eight which gave him time usually before the kids went to bed to kick a ball with them or take them swimming. When they were old enough for school he’d have days free in the summer holidays to take them out. Working this extra day job had sapped his energy but he didn’t resent it. He was excited to see the looks on the kids faces tomorrow.