Page 21 of All I Wank for Christmas

“I don’t know about hurting you. Is there…” His voice trails away, and he takes a deep breath. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel good while we’re here? Maybe have fun with one of the toys?”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, my voice shaking. My nipples are at attention, and my entire body hums with want. I grip the woolly fabric of his Santa suit and flex my fingers.

He leans his face next to my jaw, enough that I can feel the sandpaper of his beard scruff. “I could put you on that bench over there and return the favor from this afternoon.”

“You paid good money for that hand job. Do I have to pay you?” I ask, teasing.

“No, ma’am. I’ll touch you for free. Consider it payment for a job well done tonight.” He runs his nose up my jaw and places a small kiss on my earlobe. The movement practically brings me to my knees. My clit throbs. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel today. Would you like that?”

A whimper escapes my mouth, and I freeze with nerves. Thankfully, Jasper takes control and walks us to the bench behind me. He lays me back and never breaks eye contact. He doesn’t blink, and I try to match his stare. He bites his lip and breathes through his nose in a rhythm I try to match as he gently pushes me back until I’m looking at Darryl and Kristin’s ceiling. The purple lights scatter across the room, and I gasp as Jasper kneels before me and lifts both my legs into the air. He sets them both on his left shoulder and places a kiss on my knee through my tights.

“May I take off your tights, Holly?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Yes,” I whimper, not recognizing my voice.

I kick my shoes off before he can do anything, and they land with two separate plops on the floor behind him. I urgently want this man to touch me, and the old sneakers are a hindrance. He slides his hand under my skirt and hooks his fingers in my tights. He inhales through his nose as he slides the tights down my legs inch by inch until he throws them over his shoulder with a chuckle. “Panties next?”

“Please,” I beg.

He does the same thing to my panties except he doesn’t throw my lacy underthings behind him. He balls them in his fist, meets my eyes, and pushes them to his nose, sniffing deeply. “Fuck, Holly. I’ve been wanting to know what these panties smell like all day.”

“They’re dirty. I’ve worn them since this morning.”

“Yes, you have, sweetheart. If they were clean and detergent fresh, I’d be disappointed.”

My mouth is dry, and I’m speechless. What does a girl say to a guy that thinks her dirty panties are delectable?

Thankfully, I don’t have to answer. I watch open-mouthed as he sniffs my panties again like there’s a line of cocaine in the crotch, finds the gusset, and sticks the fabric in his mouth, sucking on it as his eyes flutter.

Fucking Christ, I’ve never seen a man try to eat my underwear. Why do I like it so much? Here’s a man kneeling before me and sucking the juice out of my panties, and it looks like he’s eating cheesecake. My fingers itch for something of his to grab. Dick. Balls. Whatever. Let me at it. I sigh as he takes the panties out of his mouth a moment later, bunches them up again, and shoves them into his pants pocket.

He gently takes my legs off his shoulder and runs a hand down my calf, my knee, and thigh. “Spread your legs for me. Let me see you. All of you.”

I obey. There’s nothing that could make me stop. I open my legs, unashamed. I’m such a brazen slut for him that I even lift my skirt above my waist and let him look at every inch of me. My thighs. A few dots of cellulite on my hips form as I spread my legs wide, straddling the bench. I simply don’t fucking care. I don’t worry that I haven’t shaved the old beaver for a few days. If he minds the stubble, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t look like a man picking apart every flaw of my center. He looks like a hungry man that’s been presented with a turkey dinner.

He licks his lips and groans a little as his finger starts at my waistband and travels straight down my slit. I shiver as the digit passes my clit and dips into my pussy. He pulls his finger back like my cunt is too hot to stand but immediately sticks his finger in his mouth and closes his eyes like he’s tasting birthday cake.

“Fuck, Holly. I was just going to use my hand like you did for me today, but you taste so fucking good.” He gestures to my throbbing slit and sticks his tongue out of his mouth just enough to bite the tip of it. “May I?”

I give a small nod, my own body betraying me by its lack of communication. That tongue. Just looking at it right there between his white teeth does something to me.

He leans forward and places a small kiss on my abdomen. He looks up at me with wide eyes and slides down my body, slowly placing kisses on my bikini line and the top of my slit. I shiver when he gets there, and I tremble harder when he slides his middle finger inside my pussy. I arch into him as his tongue flicks out and catches my clit with the tip.

I’m on fire. I’m going to burn here and go to hell and burn there for letting Santa’s son eat my pussy in someone’s sex dungeon. But I can’t stop. I won’t. I grip his hair and pull him closer to me. He chuckles at my arousal and exuberance. He laps at me like a kitten eating cream, and I buck wildly against his face. Will he go home and tell the elves about the wild tugger from Pennsylvania that fucked his face without shame?

Fuck, I hope so. Because I won’t forget any of this.

Jasper’s tongue tests me, tasting me with light strokes. Once he’s used to me or sure I’m not going to kick him away, he hums against my clit and pulls my legs over his shoulders. I wrap them at the ankle and close my eyes as Jasper licks, sucks, and kisses every single inch of me down there. He tongues my pussy and moves back to my clit, but when his tongue is in my pussy, he nuzzles my clit in clockwise circles with his nose. When he’s tasted enough of my pussy, he slides back and licks my clit in long licks, moaning while he does it. A hand wanders up my torso and palms my breast under my shirt.

I push up to my elbows, insistent that I’m going to watch all of this. I want to see every lick. Every tongue fuck. I want to see my wetness on his fingers after they’ve been inside of me, and I want to see his facial expressions as he does it.

He smiles at me. “You like watching?”

“Yes,” I whisper. I don’t recognize my voice because it shakes as my orgasm builds behind my belly button.

He must feel my stomach contracting and notice the desperate way I paw at his hair. My vision blurs, and I throw my head back on the padded bench. There will be no watching for me as my eyes flutter closed no matter how hard I try to keep them open. When I do manage to catch a glimpse of his face, the only one watching anything is Jasper.

He watches every muscle tic in my face. He watches my breasts jiggle a little in my shirt as I curl into a crunch position from the force of the orgasm as it rips through me. He watches my mouth moan for him. He doesn’t blink as I run my feet and legs over his back and shoulders.

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