The Christmas List

Copyright 2002
"Sarah King" 

It has been a tradition between us for several  years to make a Christmas
List, and to make one item on the list something  of an impossible dream. You know the sort of thing "World Cruise" "World  Peace" "Ferrari". The other partner has to do their best to make the wish  come true.

The year I put down "Ferrari", James hired one  for Christmas Week so I got my wish. He once put down "make me the best fuck  in England" so I put an ad in The Times personals saying he was (although  not in so many words!).

Anyway, sitting with pen in hand at the beginning  of December I pondered my list;

New Black Handbag
Four-slice Toaster
Silver knot earrings.

But what was the impossible dream to be this  year? Well, here's a thought; I wrote, "Make me the fairy on top of our  Christmas tree". I smiled. That would take some doing!

December passed in a blur of shopping cooking and  preparations. We bought a beautiful Blue Spruce tree and decorated it with  baubles and tinsel and lights, but when it came to putting that  finishing touch, James said we had to leave it bare as this year I was to be the  fairy on the tree. When I quizzed him as to how he would get me up there,  he just smiled an enigmatic smile and left me guessing.

Then it was all done, the gifts were wrapped, the  house ready and it was the night before Christmas. We dozed before a lovely  fire, brandy glasses empty and the warmth within. I woke from a dream of  pine woods to find I was blindfolded, and James' mouth close to my ear;  "Wake up little fairy, my Tinkerbell, wake up."

He pulled me to my feet and held me in his arms  before the fire, then stripped me of my dress of winter wool and all my  clothes until I was left
standing in my stockings. Then he put on me a  little jacket of some sort, and a wrap-around skirt made of something  scratchy. Finally he placed something in my hair and told me it was my fairy  crown.

He laid me down by the fire. but what was this  beneath me? The scented spears of spruce boughs, aromatic and cool laid  thick upon the hearth. His hands spread my hair across the branches of  spruce. He arranged the little jacket across my breasts and the skirt was lifted   and spread either side of my thighs. His lips traced a path from my mouth  down between my breasts and across my tummy to the shaven place between my  legs, kissing, kissing all the way. I stretched and groaned as he parted my  thighs, wanting him very much at that moment.

But then he was gone! I called to him and  stretched out my hands for him. "James! James? Where are you?" Something  sprinkled over my skin like dust. What was this?

Again I reached for him but then there was a  Click! and a flash discernable through the blindfold. He was taking pictures!

Then he was back beside me, warm and naked,  peeling back the little jacket. His mouth was hot and wet and sucked and  flickered over each nipple in turn. The fire seemed to spread through my skin and  ignite in the deepest places inside me. He moved between my open thighs and  spread me further with his knees. He stroked my waist and across my hips  with his hands and then reached around under my bottom and lifted my hips  onto his lap and entered me slowly, very slowly. We sighed together as he  reached within me and then he held me very still, firmly pinned and  penetrated and he didn't move a muscle for maybe a whole minute.

My pussy started to quiver at the filled and  fulfilled feeling of his cock buried deep. His fingers behind my buttocks  moved in a rippling motion, creeping towards the crevice between my cheeks.  My spine shimmered and my toes clenched on the ground behind him as he  spread my ass and rested his fingers on each side of my little puckered hole,  which winked at the stimulation.

Ripples of pleasure travelled inside me down the  length of him and he groaned at the intensity of the massage he was  getting. He started to move on the same beat, taking his timing from mine, my  natural sexual rhythms unforced and spontaneous, slow deep and full, and  deeper he seemed to reach inside me with each stroke. I felt, rather than  heard, his breathing alter to the rhythm, in and in and in he came, his  fingers dancing at my rear and his pubic bone pressing on my now swollen and  tender clit.

God it felt so good, so right. He felt me  expanding around him and he knew I was close to coming. My body flushed and my  hands clutched on the boughs of spruce, releasing an intense perfume around us.

He called to me, his voice a growl; "Yes my  Tinkerbell, my faery quean, come for me, come for us, now!" and my voice joined  with his as I felt his pace quicken and strengthen majestically, and we came  together in the passionate song of the earth, a long long time.

His head bowed to my breast and he lay then along me, kissing my face, my hair my mouth and we panted together, all around  us the scent of pine and our sexual breath. Tiny murmurings of love and  thanks and satisfied desire were exchanged in those incomparable moments  after orgasm.

He removed the blindfold and threw it aside. I  gazed at him, unfocussed for  many breaths and his smiling eyes were a tinkling  blue beside me.

"Happy Christmas darling" and he lifted a hand  and let fall over my breasts a shower of silver stars until I was sparkling  like a tinsel bauble.

Later he showed me the Polaroid photograph. Me,  dressed in my crown and my little skirt of silver net, all sparkling with  fairy dust among the spruce. The picture was at the top of the tree. Nothing else would ever take its place, he said, and he would always believe in fairies.

Copyright 2002