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“The Promotion” A Sexy Short Story


The following is a sexy short story I wrote about getting ahead in your career and celebrating it in the sexiest way possible. Enjoy!

“A new day, a new office, and a big promotion,” said Jonathan Zander with a beaming smile. “I’ve earned this!”

It was the culmination of a decade of toil. After working so hard for the most prominent investment firm in the state, he had achieved something that had once seemed impossible. He started as an intern, getting people coffee, printing out presentations, and organizing meetings for low pay and no overtime. Now, he was a full-fledged executive director, complete with a yearly bonus, his own parking spot, and a private office.

It might not have been the biggest office in the building, but it was still a major step up from the cramped cubical he’d worked in as an intern. It had once belonged to his supervisor, who had mentored him for the past seven years. He had since retired and was instrumental in helping Jonathan get the promotion. The office had been empty for over a month, but he intended to make it distinctly his.

“I’ll put my diploma over there,” Jonathan said to himself, pointing out blank spaces on the wall, “and that picture of me and my dad at the Super Bowl will go there. I can maybe get some artwork from my sister if she has any, but I can just as easily get some from that convention next week. And this time, I’ll actually be able to afford it!”

He kept on smiling, even as he set his box of personal effects on the large mahogany desk. He was still getting used to the idea of not being underpaid. He’d spent the last decade paying down his student loan debts and living frugally in rented apartments with unreliable roommates. That was about to change. Jonathan already planned to move into his own place by the end of the month. That was just the beginning.

“With a fat bonus comes a new suite, better furniture, and maybe even a new car at some point,” Jonathan said to himself, his mind still racing from all the exciting possibilities. “It will be nice to actually drive to work in something that isn’t 12 years old and bought at a discount from my grandfather.”

He’d worked so hard to find success doing what he loved. He intended to enjoy the hell out of it.

As an executive, there was no dead end to his job. Jonathan was no longer just some replaceable office grunt. He had influence, authority, and flexibility. He could help direct the company forward and reap the inevitable rewards. That was what he had wanted after seeing his father toil with the post office for decades. He sought more and he was willing to work for it.

There would be plenty of time for that later on, though. At the moment, it was Friday evening and most of the staff had already left for the day. Jonathan was tempted to join them, but opted to get a head start on setting up his new work space. He was too excited to just go home and wait for the next phase of his career to begin. Looking out his window, which had an awesome view of the park space just outside the building, he marveled at how far he had come.

“All that hard work…the late nights, the impossible deadlines, and the coffee enemas…I did way more than I thought I could do,” Jonathan mused. “My dad told me that hard work can’t just be for the sake of working. It has to be for something greater. Guess it’s up to me to figure out how great it’ll be.”

That was still the most daunting prospect of his new job. Jonathan had spent so much time working for others. The idea that others would work for him in the name of his vision for the company still hadn’t sunk in. He had to adjust quickly because there was plenty more he hoped to achieve.

“Excuse me, Mr. Zander?” said an unexpected female voice. “Do you have a moment?”

Jonathan turned around to see a young woman standing in the doorway to his new office. She looked like one of those cute secretaries the old CEO loved to hire, complete with a low-cut skirt, polished heels, and a blouse that seemed a size too small. Never one to turn away from a pretty girl, he welcomed her in.

“Sure,” he said to her. “Come on in. Are you one of Sheila Grant’s new assistance in HR?”

“No. I’m actually a…well, I guess you could call me an office temp,” she said coyly.

“Oh? What kind of temp?”

“The kind your old boss hired for the sole purpose of celebrating your promotion,” she told him.

Jonathan was taken aback, somewhat. He recognized the undertone in that woman’s voice. He had been to his share of bachelor parties to know what it implied. Upon seeing the woman close the door to his office behind her and lock it, he began filling in the blanks.

It seemed outrageous. He’d heard rumors about certain people hiring strippers and prostitutes for executives, but Jonathan thought they were just perverse water cooler talk. Now that he was an executive, though, those rumors took on a very different meaning.

“My name is Daisy,” the woman continued. “I guess you could call me a ‘personal motivator.’ I specialize in helping aspiring executives stay driven, so to speak.”

“That sounds…useful,” Jonathan said, not acknowledging the overt innuendo in her tone. “How exactly do you go about that?”

The young woman casually walked over to him, revealing in the process that the top part of her blouse was already unbuttoned, exposing her ample cleavage. It was, by no means, appropriate office attire. However, Jonathan felt little inclination to report her to HR. If anything, he had a feeling that his old supervisor had circumvented HR.

The way she walked did not imply that she had come directly from business school. The way she swayed her hips and glared at him with seductive eyes made it seem like she’d come right from a strip club. Knowing as that there was a strip club less than four blocks from the office, the possibilities were plenty feasible.

When she reached him, she stood so close that her ample breasts actually touched his chest. He could already smell the makeup, eye-liner, and high-end lipstick. Still standing by the window, Jonathan didn’t move in inch in any direction.

“I could spend the next half-hour explaining my unique talents,” Daisy told him, skillfully snaking her arms around his neck, “or I could just show you.”

“That might be optimal,” Jonathan said, already sounding like an executive. “In my experience, people learn by doing and not listening.”

“I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I think you’ll love my technique!”

The attractive young woman ditched the innuendo from that point and lured him into a kiss. As soon as her lips touched his, he was intoxicated by the intensely sensual taste. It was like tasting literal success, so sweet and rewarding. Whether or not Daisy was the literal manifestation of his success was a matter of perspective…one that he did not care to rationalize at the moment.

Kissing her did more than just affirm his success. It got all the blood in his body flowing in a certain direction. That reminded him that he was a healthy heterosexual man who hadn’t had time for a relationship. His work made finding love – or meaningless sex, for that matter – a challenge subject to serious time constraints. Having not known the intimate touch of a woman for a while, it was nothing short of refreshing.

“Mmm…I like it already!” Jonathan said after their lips parted.

“Oh I’m just getting started, Mr. Zander,” Daisy said, sounding sexy, yet serious. “Have a seat. The real presentation is about to begin!”

She kissed him again, snaking her arms around his neck in the process. He boldly returned the gesture, slipping his hands around her waist and feeling up her womanly curves over that not-so-modest dress of hers. As he felt her up, she guided him away from the window and towards his new desk. Jonathan offered no resistance, going along with Daisy’s unusual technique.

He soon found himself sitting on the edge of his desk, his legs dangling over as the young woman stood in front of him. His hands still on her waist, he could already feel his pants tightening. Daisy even seemed to realize that and grazed her thigh up against the growing bulge.

“Hold still,” she said upon breaking the kiss again. “This office getup is feeling very itchy.”

Then, her seductive gaze never once diverting from him, Daisy began taking off her clothes. She didn’t do it casually, either. She was slow and sensual, strategically unbuttoning her blouse so that he could watch her breasts steadily tumble out. She was just as subtle when she unzipped the back of her skirt, turned around, and casually slid it off down her thighs, revealing a red G-string thong that perfectly augmented her shapely butt.

It confirmed what Jonathan had suspected. She was a stripper, most likely one that his old boss had hired before for other executives. Given how comfortable she was stripping in a stranger’s office, Jonathan surmised she had done it before and gotten it down to a system.

“Well, that’s one way to deal with uncomfortable office clothes,” he joked.

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Casual-Friday,” Daisy teased while feeling up the in-seam of his custom-made suit.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, “although it does get a little confining when it’s this hot.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t I help with that?”

Jonathan didn’t say a word. He just cast her a goofy grin, which told her everything he needed to tell her. Looking quite comfortable in her bra and thong underwear, Daisy went to work undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling them down to his ankles, boxers and all.

His semi-erect manhood freed, Jonathan already felt a light sweat forming on his forehead. As Daisy narrowed her gaze on his lower anatomy, he quickly undid his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“Oh my,” she said playfully. “You keep that confined in those tight pants all day? You have earned this promotion!”

“I like to think that’s one of the reasons I’ve earned it,” he quipped.

“Well, it looks like it needs some professional attention. Lean back a bit and I’ll get the job done.”

“I look forward to seeing you demonstrate your skills.”

They both laughed at their shared tone. It resembled that of an executive and an assistant in a serious business meeting. It would’ve been cheesy if Jonathan didn’t enjoy it so much. He even found it extra arousing, although that might have just been a byproduct of not having sex for so long.

That wait was almost over, though. As he fumbled to get his shirt off, Daisy dropped to her knees and began giving him oral sex. She made it clear from the beginning, though, that she was a true pro.

“Oohhh, Ms. Daisy!” Jonathan moaned. “Your skills…they’re amazing!”

The beautiful woman glanced up at him, showing an eagerness and motivation that any executive could respect. She wanted his approval, just as he had wanted approval from his former boss and she really worked for it.

She was so thorough, grasping the base of his shaft with one hand while stroking the shaft with the other. She carefully, but fervently worked her lips along the length of his dick, using her tongue to stimulate all those sensitive areas. It felt so good, sending shudders of bliss coursing through his body.

Jonathan had barely managed to get his shirt off, now leaning back on his desk as he soaked in the feeling. He watched her work with such dedication. At one point, she released her grip on the base of his shaft and used it to undo her bra.

“Looks like I’ll need more advanced techniques,” Daisy said intently.

He just grinned back at her in approval, watching as those voluptuous breasts of hers hung free. He couldn’t tell whether they were real. He didn’t really care, though. Daisy showed that she knew how to use them, positioning his dick right between her fleshy mounds and using them to initiate a full-fledged tit-fuck.

“Ohhh yeah!” Jonathan moaned. “That feels…so advanced.”

“Like I said…I’m a professional,” Daisy said seductively.

Up and down, his manhood slid smoothly between her breasts. He still couldn’t determine whether they were natural or fake. He honestly couldn’t care less.

Blissful moans soon morphed into labored grunts. His dick went from just erect to rock hard. Daisy certainly took notice. She even seemed to take pride in it, being able to get a man that aroused with her tits and mouth. It was the mark of a true professional, which seemed quite fitting, given the circumstances.

“Wow! Talk about hard work paying off,” Daisy said.

“Hard…that’s for sure,” said Jonathan, already breathless.

“You worked just as hard to get here, Mr. Zander. Hard work should be rewarded. That’s what I intended to give you.”

“You mean you haven’t already?”

“Are you kidding? That was just the appetizer. Now, it’s time for the main course!”

With a lurid tone in her voice and a seductive glint in her eye, Daisy rose back to her feet and kicked off her heels. She then turned around, showing him that perfect ass of hers again, and slid off her thong.

Jonathan’s mouth watered at the sight of her butt and pussy. He even noticed that she was aroused, a sign that she was among the lucky few in the world who actually enjoyed her job. That didn’t just give them something in common. It put them on the same page.

“Tell me, Mr. Zander,” said Daisy, turning around and showing him all her naked glory. “How do you want to celebrate your promotion?”

“If I had to choose,” Jonathan said, already enchanted by the sight, “I’d pick you up in my arms, set you down on my fancy new desk, and fuck you until I came all over your tits.”

“Is that so?” she said curly. “Well, you’re in luck. That just happens to be my kind of celebrating!”

Now, it was Jonathan’s turn to grin playfully. Throwing aside his dress shirt and kicking off his overpriced shoes, the newly-minted executive got off the desk and seized the moment in the name of celebrating his success.

He slipped his arms around Daisy, savoring the feeling of her naked skin pressing up against his, and kissed her intently. She eagerly kissed back, jumping up into his arms and throwing her legs around his waist. He instinctively caught her, which also gave him a perfect grip on her butt. It left him feeling empowered, the flesh of a naked woman pressing meshing with his. Jonathan longed to exercise that power, celebrating the promotion that he worked so hard to earn.

As their lips and tongues twirled in their lustful embrace, he set her down on the polished desk in the exact position he’d been in moments ago. Daisy kept her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to his shoulders as he positioned himself in front of her, aligning his dick with her wet entrance.

“You ready?” he asked her, his every word radiating with lust.

“Let the celebrating begin!” Daisy proclaimed.

Heeding her words, Jonathan grabbed hold of her waist and thrust his hips forward, driving his throbbing cock into her. In an instant, he felt the hot warmth of womanly flesh surrounding his manhood. The process was so smooth, his arousal complementing hers. They each let out a blissful moan. From there, they the real celebration began.

His feet planted firmly on the freshly-cleaned rug, Jonathan began humping the beautiful woman in his grasp. Together, their naked bodies rocked in a vigorous rhythm. Like a well-oiled piston, his cock pumped within her pussy. The sound of his pelvis smacking against hers filled the room, along with the light squeaking noise of the fancy desk. Something about that motivated him to intensify the movements, as though it were a manifestation of his hard work.

“Yes! Ohhh yes!” Daisy cried out. “That’s it! Fuck me! Fuck me like a big, strong executive! Ooh I’m coming already!”

She could’ve been faking it. She probably was, but she sure sounded convincing. Jonathan could feel her inner folds throbbing around his dick. The gasps turned to squeals. Rather than just cling to his shoulders, she dug her nails right into his skin. It strong, but in the best possible way.

Fake or not, Jonathan felt even more motivated. Shifting his hands from her waist to her thighs, he pushed he legs farther apart so he could thrust in deeper. He also kissed down her neck, tasting the light sweat that had already formed on her skin. More moans followed. It was like the sweetest music coupled with his favorite treat, the ultimate desert to go along with a momentous event.

“Daisy,” Jonathan grunted, “you like being fucked…by an executive?”

“Yes! I love it! I fucking love it!” she affirmed with surprising enthusiasm.

“Then that’s…how I’ll fuck you!”

In another show of his newfound authority, Jonathan withdrew his cock from her briefly so that he could reposition the naked woman in his grasp. With strength he didn’t remember having before he got promoted, he pulled her off the desk, turned her around, and bent her over so that her breasts were mashed up against the polished wood. Now facing that heart-shaped ass of hers, he thrust his cock back into her and resumed his vigorous humping.

“Oh yeah! Ohhh fuck yeah!” Jonathan seethed. “This…is how…an executive fucks!”

Daisy responded with more blissful moans. He already sounded like a new man, one far removed from the quiet intern he’d been ten years ago. He’d worked hard to become that man and he was already loving it.

Daisy must have loved it too. In fact, she seemed to have a fetish for powerful men in business. She kept loudly proclaiming that she was having an orgasm. The more she said it, the less certain he was that she was faking it. That might have been due to his position in a major company and not his sexual prowess, but Jonathan didn’t care. If he could celebrate his promotion and make a beautiful woman climax, then that was just an awesome bonus.

He worked just as hard to make their sex both memorable and momentous. As the desk shook and Daisy’s body rocked, Jonathan felt himself approaching his peak. It might have been the most intense peak he’d felt since his ex-girlfriend dressed up as a sexy librarian in college. It was like a volcano ready to erupt and, like his promotion, it required a little extra effort to achieve it.

“Daisy! I…I’m close!” he told her. “I’m ready…to come!”

“I’m ready too, Mr. Zander,” Daisy replied.

With their lusts perfectly in synch, Jonathan pulled out of her again and she quickly turned around so that she could drop her to knees again. Just as before, she put those voluptuous breasts of hers to good use, pressing his throbbing cock between them. From that position, he slid his manhood between those fleshy mounds of his until he crossed that final threshold.

“Oohhh Daisy!”

After those fateful words, the volcano of pent up desire erupted. Holding onto her head, Jonathan closed his eyes and threw his head back as the feeling washed over him like a tsunami of pure ecstasy. It was incredible, his throbbing releasing a thick load of cum onto the beautiful woman’s amble cleavage. From head to toe, the sensations rippled through his body in a surge of pleasure, power, and accomplishment.

The volume of manly fluid surprised Daisy as much as it did him. She even gasped somewhat at how much ended up on her face. It had definitely been a while for him. A lot of feelings had been pent up in his effort to advance his career. As tough as it had been, the end result was worth it…even if it was somewhat messy.

“Wow!” Daisy said. “So much cum…you really did work hard for this.”

“Yeah…hard,” he said, still an orgasmic daze.

They both laughed somewhat as Daisy used her tits to extract every last drop from his manhood. She even made sure to lick up the bits that lingered. Once the ecstasy passed, Jonathan let out the most content sigh he had experienced in over a decade.

He ended up leaning back on his desk, sitting down on the floor next to the naked woman who still had his cum dripping from her tits. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She even pulled him into a light embrace, as if to offer once last round of congratulations for what he achieved.

“A job well done, Mr. Zander,” she told him.

“Speak for yourself, Ms. Daisy,” Jonathan laughed.

“You’re going to make a great executive here. I look forward to celebrating your future achievements with you.”

“So do I,” he told her, “and don’t worry. I’ll have plenty of achievements worth celebrating in the future. I promise!”

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“The Mysterious Frenchman” A Sexy Short Story


The following is a sexy short story that was commissioned by a loyal reader who wanted a specific, French-themed kind of sexy. They know who they are. I hope they enjoy this. If you’re at all interested in commissioning another sexy short story, please contact me. Until then, profiter de l’histoire!

What was it about France that made it so romantic?

American girls like Rose Redman had asked themselves that question more than once. It was just one country in Europe, albeit one with a unique collection of people, places, and culture. It had a rich history and a distinct style. There was a special distinction that came with all things French. Being there just felt different. It carried a spirit that could not be found anywhere else.

Rose, unlike other Americans, had a chance to seek that spirit for herself. At 18-years-old, having just graduated high school, she decided to experience France on her own. It marked the first vacation she ever went on by herself. It was ambitious, but that had never dissuaded her before.

Rose was not the kind of woman who just read about exotic locations. She preferred to experience them first-hand. Some called her adventurous. Others called her reckless. She didn’t care what anyone labeled her. She was her own person. She was going to experience France and everything that made it romantic.

However, her choice to make France her final vacation before college wasn’t just about its romantic mystique. Rose had a more personal reason for maxing out her credit cards and borrowing money from friends…one prompted by tragedy.

“You would’ve loved this place, Mom,” she said solemnly. “You would’ve loved everything about it.”

Rose had been saying those words to herself almost every day since she arrived. Everywhere she went – Paris, Lyon, Nice, Bordeaux, and all their various landmarks – she experienced something she knew her mother would’ve loved. Whether it was a famous building or a snack she bought at a café, she could easily imagine her mother’s face lighting up like the Parisian skyline.

Sadly, Rose never got the chance to share that experience. Eight months ago, her mother passed away after a two-year bout with cancer. The trip wasn’t just about the experience or even the romance. It was her way of honoring her mother.

“I still miss you,” Rose said to the clear blue sky. “We would’ve had so much fun here. Hell, a day at the nude beach in Nice would’ve made for some great memories…funny, awkward, and mortifying memories, but still great none-the-less.”

She laughed to herself, despite the lingering sorrow. Hugging her knees, sitting atop a picnic blanket on a hot summer day, Rose tried to focus on all the wonderful things she’d experienced on her trip.

“Just so you know, I didn’t meet that fancy French aristocrat you’d said I’d meet,” she said, still fixated on the sky. “I met some guys who said I had great legs. Then again, my French is still lousy so they might have been referring to my tits. There were polite about it, though. I still said no when they offered to rub sunscreen on my back.”

She kept smiling at the memory. She could hear her mother telling her she should’ve let them. Like her, her mother was a free spirit. She loved to learn new things and seek new experiences. She just didn’t get a chance to travel much. Between a failed marriage with her father and a career that seemed to change every other month, she didn’t get many opportunities. That didn’t stop her from making plans.

Before she died, she’d told Rose a story about a trip to France she took as a child. She’d even told her that she wanted to take her there on vacation after she finished college, joking about how the country’s romantic ambience would perfectly complement their free-spirited nature. Rose had been looking forward to that trip since middle school. Fate, misfortune, and circumstances just got in the way.

“I know you didn’t want me to mourn you for this long,” Rose said, now resting her chin on her knees. “You told me you didn’t want your death to dampen my spirit and harden my heart. You made me promise to keep seeking love…to embrace it, as I always have. It’s just a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

Tears formed in her eyes as Rose sobbed softly into her hands. She sighed to herself and reached for the half-empty glass of wine she had next to her. It came courtesy of the best bottle she could afford and some complimentary cheese, which she had finished.

After nearly a week of traveling the cities, seeing the sites, and lounging on the beaches, Rose decided to spend the last day of her vacation at a winery east of Bordeaux. She even made sure she came at a time when it wasn’t too crowded, opting to skip the tour and just find a quiet place on a hillside overlooking fields.

It was her way of sharing a quiet moment with her mother’s spirit. Gazing out over the beautiful French countryside, however, Rose could feel her heart aching to reach out, but the cloud of her mother’s death still hung over her.

“You always said we shouldn’t hesitate to love, even if it gets us in trouble,” Rose mused as she sipped the wine. “Great experiences come with a price. Maybe that’s why France such a romantic place. People are much more willing to pay that price and take that chance.”

It made sense. The people Rose had met, including the flirty men on that nude beach, weren’t afraid to put themselves out there. For some reason, pursuing love that directly was taboo back home. It was refreshing for someone who’d opened her heart to a lot of people in her life. France was just as open, but for some reason, she’d closed herself off.

“I’m in this wonderful place where I can heal my soul and honor your memory,” Rose said as she stared at her now-empty glass. “After all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve met, why do I still feel…empty?”

That question had been plaguing her for days now. She was set to fly home the next day. Rose wanted to be able to tell her friends and family that she was at peace. She was ready to move forward and love again. She needed to keep that last promise she’d made to her mother. At the moment, though, it felt like she was failing her.

“You’re a long way from the tour group, mademoiselle,” came an unexpected voice in a deep French accent.

Rose turned to see a tall, older man with a thick black beard, large forearms, and olive-toned skin emerging from a nearby field of grape vines. He wore white shirt, tattered dark pants, and muddy boots, indicating he wasn’t a tour guide. From the looks of it, he worked at the winery, albeit not in the most glamorous role.

“There are far better places for a picnic,” the man told her, “unless, of course, you’re not looking for the best place…just the one where you can talk to yourself in peace.”

“You uh…heard that?” Rose said sheepishly.

“My English is not great,” he said, “but I understand enough to know when someone is speaking with a broken heart. Here in France, we like to think we’re more fluent than most in the language of the heart.”

The man cast her a sympathetic smile. Rose smiled back, but still blushed profusely. She didn’t usually talk to herself and when she did, she had the good sense to be subtle. Then again, subtlety had never been among her strengths

The man didn’t hold it against her, though. He just kept smiling as he sat down next to her. In doing so, she confirmed that the man definitely worked on the front lines of the winery, so to speak. He smelled like he’d been toiling for hours, picking grapes and tilling the soil. Being the kind of woman who appreciated hard working men more than most, Rose didn’t mind in the slightest.

“So how much did you understand?” Rose asked him.

“Enough to know that you came here with a wounded heart,” the man said. “Not a broken heart, which I’ve seen plenty of in my time. Just wounded.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a considerable difference,” he said. “I don’t know if English has the right words for it.”

“That sounds exactly like something someone from France would say.”

“I won’t claim I could explain it perfectly in my native tongue. It would certainly be easier, especially when the wounds aren’t healing as much as you wish they were.”

Rose’s demeanor shifted. She diverted her gaze, as if to hide some of the sorrow she’d tried to put into words moments ago. No matter how much the mysterious Frenchman had overheard, she’d made her pain clear. Hers was a strained heart, one that could still love, but had been hardened by loss. Even as someone who rarely hid her emotions, it still hurt.

That didn’t deter the man. He even scooted closer, giving her an even bigger whiff of that musky scent that could only come from a man who spent his days making French wine. It was enough to make her heart skip a beat, which seemed to make his point.

“I’m Philippe, by the way,” the man said.

“I’m Rose. Nice to meet you,” Rose said with a smile. “Would I be an insufferably rude tourist if I called you Phil?”

“For a woman dealing with a wounded heart, I’ll happily overlook some cultural peeves,” Philippe said. “If I were to guess from your clothing and your disposition, I’d say you’re from America, non?”

“You’re a good guesser,” Rose said, impressed by his perception. “What gave it away? My crude American accent?”

“Not at all,” he laughed. “A lot of Americans love to visit French wineries. Having worked here for over 15 years, I’ve noticed how they conduct themselves. They value freedom, strength, and spirit, but they see matters of the heart as weakness.”

“I want to defend my country, but I feel like I’ve made myself a big enough fool.”

“It’s never foolish to express how much you’re hurting. Pain – whether it’s from loss or picking grapes for eight hours straight – reminds us that we’re alive. More importantly, it affirms that we wish to keep living.”

“I think pain sucks. I don’t care if that makes me an uncultured American. My mother has been dead for almost a year. I thought it would hurt less by now. The whole reason I came to France was to mend it, like I know she would’ve wanted.”

“Why do you think it has not worked?”

“Hell if I know,” Rose sighed. “You’re the one who says French are fluent in the language of the heart. Any chance you can translate for me?”

“I can try,” Philippe said, “but the heart often speaks with mixed messages. Even a full-blooded Frenchmen struggles to make sense of it.”

The tall, older man set her wine glass and snack tray aside. He then sat down in front of her, caressing her face with both hands and aligning his gaze with hers. With such close proximity, she could smell more than grapes, wine, and dirt. Rose could the strength feel his penetrating gaze. It was like looking into a light that exposed all the ugly wounds she’d been trying to ignore.

At the same time, the feeling of an attractive older Frenchman touching her heart racing faster. It also sparked a new heat within her, one that had nothing to do with the hot summer air. As someone who had a lot of boyfriends in high school, but hadn’t so much as hugged one since her mother died, it was intense…as well as arousing.

“I see in you something other than loss and pain,” Philippe told her. “I see a woman eager to share herself with the world, but then the world hit you with something you weren’t ready for. And it hit hard.”

“My mother and I were really close,” Rose said. “I don’t know how it could’ve hit much harder.”

“And when something hits us, we fall. Both the hit and the fall hurt, but it passes. We get back up and we fight through the pain. When we’re struck in our heart, though…getting back up isn’t enough. Just overcoming the pain isn’t enough, either.”

“Well, what else is there?”

Philippe leaned in closer, so much so that his rugged French complexion was all she saw. The beauty of the French countryside, the gentle summer breezes sweeping through the area, and the various activities of a functioning winery became an afterthought. In that moment, he was the sole focus of her world.

“I think it’s the same thing that brought you to France,” he told her, “the one thing that every wounded heart needs before it can heal…closure.”

“Closure,” Rose found herself saying.

“Not just with respect to your mother’s passing,” he went on, “but to the very essence of your spirit. I can already tell you’re someone who likes to embrace the world, but to do that in a world without your mother…you need to take that final step.”

“To do what?” she asked intently.

“To say goodbye, to move on, and to chart your own path without her.”

It was like receiving an overdue message, one scripted by the spirit of her mother, but conveyed through the thick accent of a handsome older Frenchman. In terms of getting the point across, Rose couldn’t imagine anything more effective.

Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat.

A warm gust of wind blew over the French countryside.

A powerful feeling washed over her, as though a blanket of genuine love had washed over her.

It was so intense that it brought tears to her eyes. It was like her mother was giving her one last hug goodbye. At the same time, the presence of a handsome Frenchman in Philippe gave her someone to share in that feeling. Never one to turn away from a powerful moment, Rose broke down and threw her arms around the man before her.

“Merci,” she cried. “Merci, Philippe.”

“It’s okay, Mademoiselle Rose,” Philippe said. “It’s okay.”

She sensed she’d overwhelmed him. That didn’t stop him from hugging her back, sharing in the feeling of the moment. She didn’t hide from the tears or the sobs. For the first time in her entire trip, she didn’t avoid the sorrow. She just took it all in, but rather than lament, she let it act as the closure she hadn’t achieved. It was liberating, as though her spirit could once again soar.

As the weight of those feelings passed, though, other feelings emerged as well. It was not lost on Rose for a second that she was embracing a very attractive man. She also hadn’t forgotten that she’d cut herself off from intimate contact with men since her mother died. For a spirit as lively as hers, it did plenty to rekindle that special inner passion within her.

“Philippe…” she said after her sobs subsided.

“Yes, Mademoiselle?” he asked.

Still embracing him closely, Rose locked eyes with him, just as he’d done with her earlier. Now, she was the center of his world, the only spectacle he saw in the French countryside. As she gazed upon him, she affectionately caressed his unshaven face with her soft hands. Then, acting on that spirit that had longed to re-emerge, she kissed him.

As soon as she tasted those sultry French lips, Rose felt the weight of many burdens lift from her soul. It was like her mother’s spirit had come down to relieve her of them once and for all. In her place, the passion that had been muted by sorrow arose once more. In that moment, she channeled that passion onto Philippe.

“My, my, Rose,” the Frenchman gasped. “You American girls…such intense kissers.”

“You speak the language of the heart. We speak the language of hot kissing!” Rose said, her voice once again full of life.

“Another universal tongue…in a manner of speaking.”

“Universal, indeed!”

They kissed again with greater intensity, embracing and caressing one another under the hot summer heat. Once again, Rose dared to bring passion into her life. With Philippe, though – the strange Frenchman who’d been there at just the right time to mend her wounded soul – she put in extra effort.

She made sure every touch carried meaning, from the way she twirled her tongue with his to the way she ran her hands through his messy hair. Even if his English wasn’t great, he got the message loud and clear. He’d healed her in just the way she needed to be healed. Were they back on that nude beach in Nice, she would’ve done more than kiss him.

As the affectionate gestures intensified, Roes felt him reach up her skirt and feel around her inner thighs. In doing so, it mixed that rekindled passion with a more basic arousal, one that reminded her of the other needs she hadn’t been meeting lately.

“Philippe,” Rose gasped, “your hand.”

“Would you…like me to stop?” he asked coyly.

“Heavens no!” she said without hesitation.

“In that case, allow me to do one more thing that I believe will give you closure…something we, in France, know to be effective at healing wounded hearts.”

“Oh? And what might that entail?”

With a sneaky grin that only a confident Frenchman could offer, he leaned in closer and whispered into her ear.

“Lie down on your back,” he told her. “Look to the sky, think only of your mother’s love, and let my skilled French tongue do the rest.”

The way he said it sounded so sultry, yet so genuine. Rose knew the French – and Europeans, in general – were less uptight when it came to sexual matters. However, she’d never encountered someone who used sexuality to mend a wounded spirit. For someone like her, who valued her unbound spirit, it seemed so fitting.

“Okay,” said Rose. “Do what you Frenchmen do best to cute, American girls in need of comfort.”

He cast her a confident, but reassuring grin. He had a glint in his eyes that said to her that he intended to deliver and, in what might end up being her final French experience, she trusted him.

Doing as he’d instructed, she laid back on her picnic blanket and gazed up at the clear blue skies. In the process, Philippe reached behind and unzipped the back of her skirt so that he could remove it. She didn’t resist in the slightest, even kicking off her sandals in the process. Then, after setting aside her skirt, he removed her panties as well, leaving her completely naked from the waist down.

“Such beauty,” Philippe said upon seeing her exposed lower body. “You American girls are so adept at grooming.”

Rose giggled, but remained focused on the sky above. Her heart raced and every breath became heavy. All the summer heat seemed to collect around her inner thighs, as though her desire for closure had become a ball of heat housed within her core. At that point, only a mysterious Frenchman could unleash it.

Philippe was more than up to the task. As she gazed to the heavens, he carefully pushed her legs apart and trailed his lips along her inner thighs. Slowly, but steadily, he charted a path to the growing heat that was her womanhood. By the time he arrived, she was fully aroused, her folds engorged and her depths aching for his touch.

“Close your eyes,” he said in that thick accent of his. “Think of all the love that your mother inspired…that you wish to carry on in her memory. Focus on that as I focus on making you feel special in this moment of closure.”

It was hard to focus on anything when she was so incredibly aroused, but for her mother’s memory, Rose endured it. Still breathing heavily, she clung to her picnic blanket and closed her eyes while Philippe put that French tongue of his to work in the best possible way.

“Ooh Philippe!” Rose gasped upon feeling his lips on her nether regions.

Like a true connoisseur, the mysterious Frenchman gave her oral sex. He was not sloppy or crude, either. He treated such an intimate act the same way a dignified man would treat fine dining, exercising manners and care. It was a more refined approach to a common sex act…one that evoked a unique blend of sensations, pleasure, and satisfaction.

Clutching the picnic blanket harder, Rose let out more cries of delight to the heavens. Philippe, heeding her cries like a beacon, intensified his efforts. He held her legs apart, probed deeper with that French tongue of his, and tasted her womanly flesh as though it were an exotic treat. Soon, those feelings of sorrow and pent-up desires converged into a burning ball of blissful heat. It was like the remaining shackles on her spirit were about to shatter.

As that heat intensified, Rose opened her eyes. All she saw was a clear blue sky. Under the constant bombardment of pleasure, its grandeur took on greater meaning. In that moment, she felt as though her mother was gazing down upon her from Heaven, ready to bless her with one final gesture.

“I…I’m close. I’m so…so close!” Rose gasped, her voice dazed by the feeling.

Philippe, heeding her call, lifted her hips slightly and smothered her womanhood with an onslaught of oral teasing. He hit every sensitive area with perfect precision, stimulating her feminine features to the utmost. It sent her to the edge of that special cliff where an ocean of ecstasy awaited her. Once there, Rose let her spirit guide her and she dove in.

“Oohhh yes!”

Her moan of euphoria echoed from the depths of her soul into the sky. She was so vocal with her intimate peak that all the angels in Heaven – including her mother – definitely heard her. Every inch of her skin burned with white hot sensations of pleasure, her toes curling and her back arching as she writhed in the feeling.

By every measure, it was an intense orgasm, but it carried far greater meaning beyond the pleasure. As Rose gazed fixated on the sky, her tears of sorrow having since turned to tears of joy, Philippe set her hips down and leaned in so that he could whisper in her ear once more.

“Let that be your final closure,” he told her, “courtesy of a proud Frenchman.”

“Merci, Monsieur…merci,” Rose panted.

He kissed her on the neck again, traces of her feminine juices still on his breath. Rose smiled warmly, but remained on her back, half-naked and staring at the cloudless sky above her. She’d come to France to take the trip that she and her mother never got a chance to share. She saw and experienced many things that her mother would’ve loved…wonderful things she wish they could’ve shared. Instead of honoring her memory, it just felt like she was mourning her even more.

Then, she encountered a very special man in the French countryside. Thanks to him, the sorrow of loss became the relief of closure. Thanks to a mysterious Frenchman, her mother was gone, but her spirit was freed…just like hers.

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“Bending Over Becky” A Sexy Short Story


The following is a sexy short story that was inspired by one of my old college roommates. He had a girlfriend for the entire time we shared a dorm and they had a very overt sex life, to say the least. Enjoy!

Some couples treated sex like an elaborate spectacle. It couldn’t just happen on a whim. They needed to set a certain mood, creating just the right environment for a sensual, satisfying experience. Becky Raven didn’t understand those couples and that was not the kind of sex life she had with her long-time boyfriend, Richard Wyatt.

“Bend over.”

That was all he said to her one muggy Saturday afternoon after walking into the home office of the townhouse they shared. He didn’t offer any details. He didn’t ask whether she was in the mood because he didn’t need to. Richard knew the dynamics/quirks of their sex life as well as her. After all the years they’d been together, they were past the point of words.

Not saying a word, Becky stopped what she’d been doing on her laptop and rose up from her chair. Richards, looking more stressed than usual, stormed over like a man on a mission. Having just gotten home from some unexpected overtime at the office, he had more energy than usual and Becky knew how he wanted to spend it.

Already feeling his lustful gaze on him, Beck leaned over her desk and kicked the chair aside. As soon as her lover arrived, he didn’t waste any time and grabbed the hem of her pants.

“Get these off,” Richard said intently.

Not waiting for a response, he pulled them down to her ankles, along with her underwear. Then, with her pants and panties down at her ankles, he dropped to his knees and started eating her pussy out.

“Ooh Richard!” she gasped. “Rough day at the office?”

He didn’t answer. She doubted he’d heard her. Richard wasn’t easily distracted, especially when he got horny. He also loved giving her oral sex. He once claimed pussy was both his favorite desert and his favorite appetizer. On top of that, he knew how to hit all those sensitive spots in her depths. That kind of insight that could turn a lazy afternoon into a full-blown fuck fest.

Richard must have been hornier than usual, putting extra urgency into his oral sex. While on his knees, he used both hands to push Becky’s folds apart, allowing him to probe deep with his tongue and hit all the right areas. That got all the right juices flowing. Becky, now holding onto the side of the desk, could only moan blissfully as a steady stream of sensual sensations coursed through her body.

“Ohhh!” she moaned. “It must have been a really rough day.”

Richard remained focused on his oral teasing, letting out deep grunts as he gorged on her folds. Becky also sensed him undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants. With one hand still caressing her pussy, he began stroking his cock. It must have already been half-erect when he entered the room because he got fully aroused pretty quickly.

Either something went really wrong at the office or something went really right. He worked in the sales department of an investment firm, which often required people to be intense and energetic. As it just so happened, that was also what got Richard really aroused. It meant that having a functioning sex life with him required that they skip a few steps.

“If it was that bad…just do it, Richard,” she said. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

Her lover definitely heard that. After giving her pussy one last thorough lick, he rose up from the floor, kicked off the khakis he’d worn to the office, and positioned himself behind her. She felt the tip of his rigid dick rub up against her wet entrance. He ached for her sex and the release it offered. With a firm thrust of the hips, he entered her.

“Oh yeah!” Richard moaned. “I need this…so much.”

His member now deep within her folds, he grabbed hold of her waist and began pumping his cock inside her. He didn’t take it slow or steady, either. He went right for the rough stuff. There was no sweet, tender lovemaking. There was just fucking…raw, unfiltered sex.

“Oh fuck! Ooh fuck!” Becky moaned out. “That’s it, love! Fuck me as hard as necessary!”

She clung harder to the desk, bending over more so that her breasts pressed up against her closed laptop. Richard took her vulgar urgings to heart. That was another kink about their sex life. She loved to talk dirty. She was downright crude, at times, even when they made love. Some men found that disorienting. Richard just thought it was hot.

It showed in how he fucked her. He did it harder and faster, rocking the desk and knocking over some files in the process. He also did it rougher, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, another unique kink that heightened their sex. That feeling of hard, manly flesh thrusting in and out of her pussy sent surges of sensations up through her body. Having been lazily reading emails just moments ago, it was quite a change.

That confluence of quirks, on top of whatever sparked his need, helped Richard get to his peak in short order. He wasn’t too quick. Even when he was really horny, he always made an effort to share the joys of sex with Becky. He still made it to that special domain where the feeling morphed from a blissful heat to a raging wildfire of ecstasy.

“I’m coming, Becky! I’m going to…come!” Richard said with a deep grunt.

Becky just held onto the desk, spreading her legs a little wider so that he could get in extra deep when he got his release. His thrusting slowed and his member throbbed inside her in accord with the pleasure. Hot streams of manly juices shot up into her depths, creating a hot, intimate feeling. It contrasted greatly with the hardcore fucking she’d just experienced, but that only made it more satisfying, creating a sense of balance.

Now short of breath and awash in pleasure, Richard withdrew his cock from her and fell back into the office chair she’d been sitting in before he arrived. Still bent over the desk, Becky had to catch her breath too. When she turned to face her lover, though, she smiled.

“Feel better now?” she asked him.

“Yeah…much better,” Richard said with a grin.

“I bet. Since you usually don’t fuck me that hard without a reason, I won’t ask for details. I’ll just assume your brain, your nerves, and your dick were in agreement, for once.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You’re a damn good girlfriend, Becky.”

“You’re damn right!” she said proudly. “I’d tell you not to forget it, but I’d rather remind you.”

She trusted her lover to fill in the sub-text. He knew as well as she did what had to happen next. As Richard sat lazily in the chair, she stepped out of her pants and took off the light cotton shirt she’d been wearing. Since she hadn’t been wearing a bra, it rendered her fully naked, a sight her lover always appreciated. She let him admire her exposed body in the afternoon son for a brief second. Then, she approached him with a crude request of her own.

“Sit back,” she said, mirroring the same tone he’d used with her.

He did so without hesitation. Still breathing heavily, she climbed onto his lap and kissed him hungrily. As their lips and tongues twirled together, she undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He’d probably worked up a sweat by fucking her and it was probably really itchy.

After getting it off, she tossed the rest of his clothes aside and slipped off the chair. She then dropped to her knees, just as he had done earlier, and focused her attention on his still-throbbing manhood. It had somewhat softened after his climax, but Becky knew her lover’s anatomy as well as he knew hers. One good orgasm after a stressful day wasn’t enough to get the job done.

With that in mind, she grabbed the base of his dick with one hand and began giving him oral sex. A fresh round of sharp grunts followed.

“Damn!” Richard moaned. “This my kind of reminder.”

Becky responded only with a hungry moan, one that let him know that she was still horny. She still wanted a release of her own. It was one of the official rules of their sex lives. If one of them came in needing a good fucking, then they could get it. However, every time one of them got off, they had to give the other a chance to match them.

Sometimes, that wasn’t possible. If the rate at which Richard got hard again was any indication, Becky doubted that would be an issue. Driven by her own burning need, she sucked his member hard, sliding her lips and tongue along the length of his shaft. Just as he knew the intricacies of her pussy, she knew the subtleties of his dick. She knew how to blow him in just the right way to get him hard again.

Most men couldn’t get hard for hours after blowing their load. Others took even longer. Richard was a special kind of man in a great many ways. His ability to keep fucking her after coming was just one of them.

“You ready?” she asked after giving his dick an extra thorough lick.

“I’m ready,” Richard said.

No further assurance was necessary. With his manhood now erect, Becky rose back to her feet, turned around, and positioned herself over him so that her pelvis was aligned with his. She made sure he had a good view of her butt, a sight he always appreciated. She then lowered herself back onto his dick, his manly flesh penetrating her depths once more.

“Bend me over again,” Becky told him. “Fuck me until I come!”

Richard gladly obliged, grabbing hold of her butt and resuming the hard fucking they’d shared moments ago. He showed off his arm strength, guiding her hips up and down so that the folds of her pussy slithered perfectly along his dick. Becky even showed off her flexibility, bending over far enough that she could watch the spectacle from behind. Having not been able to see much when he bent her over the first time, she sought to take in the sights.

“Ohhh yeah! Fuck me! Fuck yeah!” she moaned, her love of dirty talk showing. “Harder! Do it harder!”

Richard replied with more determined grunts, squeezing her butt harder and stepping up the pace. The flimsy office chair could barely hold together, testing her orgasmic efficiency as much as her flexibility. Thankfully, Becky didn’t need to damage any furniture to achieve her goal.

As her inner muscles throbbed with increasing intensity, she felt her orgasm coming up fast. Richard certainly did his part, rubbing her butt just like she licked. He even reached around and fondled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to accelerate the orgasmic process. When it hit, it came at her like tsunami.

“Oohhh I’m coming, Richard! I’m coming!” she cried out.

Just as she crossed that fine line between exertion and ecstasy, her love grabbed her hair again and pulled her head back. It was just in time too because it allowed her to proclaim her ecstasy to the heavens.

She made it a point to be extra loud as she soaked in the euphoria. White hot surges of pleasure coursed through her system, filling her with the kind of raw bliss that could only come with her and Richard’s unique brand of sex. Some might call it kinky. Some might call it rough. That didn’t make it any less intimate.

After the ecstasy passed, Becky let out a content sigh and rose up off her lover’s cock. She then casually sat with him in the chair, their naked bodies glistening in the afternoon son. They were silent for a while, not needing to say much. It might have been the most meaningful trait of their relationship. They didn’t need to sweet talk each other to affirm their love. They already knew how much they loved each other. As a bonus, it allowed them to be more efficient with their sex lives.

“Guess we both needed that,” Richard said.

“Guess so,” Becky said coyly.

“I’m so lucky…having such an awesome girlfriend,” he went on, “one who doesn’t mind me bending her over on a whim.”

“And I’m just as lucky to have a boyfriend who knows how to fuck me right!”

“I’m glad you appreciate it as much as I do,” he said, “because after the day I’ve had, you might want to stay naked for the rest of the day.”

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“The Handyman” A Sexy Short Story


The following is a sexy short story that was inspired by a broken furnace and a handyman that really saved the day. If you are a skilled handyman out there, please know that your sex appeal is grossly under-appreciated. I hope this story will convey that sentiment.

“Damn it! Of all the days for my furnace to break, why does it have to be today?” Delila Preston groaned as she paced restlessly.

She muttered more curses under her breath, hugging her shoulders to protect herself from the harsh winter cold. Looking outside, her windows covered in ice from the latest winter storm that passed through last night, she saw no relief in the dreary overcast. All she could do was put on her thickest pair of sweatpants, her only clean T-shirt, and a hoodie over top of it. She tried to keep moving, but that wasn’t easy in her undersized apartment. She needed real, tangible warmth and she needed it soon.

That need went beyond the weather. It wasn’t unreasonable to say that her life, as a whole, was as broken as her heater. Eight months ago, everything had been perfectly functional. Delila was engaged to her high-school sweetheart, she had a good job at marketing firm, and she lived in a comfortable home not far from her childhood neighborhood.

Then, everything broke. Delila found out her fiancé had been cheating on her. She lost her job when her boss got arrested for an embezzlement scandal, forcing her to take a lower-paying job over 40 miles away from her old home. She couldn’t even move back home because her parents were already caring for her younger brother, who’d just come back from serving in the military and required extra care because of the wounds he suffered. That meant moving into the cheapest, most cramped apartment she could find.

Her heater breaking was just the latest in a long string of things that had gone horribly wrong in her life.

“The coldest day of the year on top of the worst year of my adult life,” Delila muttered as she gazed out the window. “I can get someone to fix my heater, but how the hell do I go about fixing everything else at this point?”

As she wondered that daunting prospect, she checked her watch. Since she couldn’t afford a licensed repairman, she had to rely on help from a co-worker, Mia. She’d told him her brother’s best friend was a real handyman who just happened to owe her favor. She’d been texting him since she woke up and he was supposed to arrive at any minute.

Not knowing if her heater could even be fixed, Delila sighed to herself and planned on drinking plenty of hot tea for the rest of the weekend. For now, at least, curling up under multiple blankets in bed seemed like the only way to keep warm.

After a few more minutes of waiting, she heard a knock at her door.

“Hope this guy knows what he’s doing,” Delila said. “I need at least one thing in my life that isn’t broken.”

Still hugging her shoulders for warmth, she opened the door to greet the hopeful handyman. The figure she saw, however, caught her by surprise.

“Hi! You must be Delila,” a man greeted. “I’m Josh Maven. I’m here to fix your heater.”

“Yes, uh…please, come in,” Delila said.

Her co-worker hadn’t told her much about her brother’s friend. She only said he was good at fixing things. Now, Delila wished she had asked more questions because she never would’ve guessed he would’ve been so cute.

“Damn, it’s cold out!” Josh said as he entered and took off his jacket. “This is a hell of a day for your heater to break.”

“Yeah…hell of a day indeed,” Delila replied.

“If this place is anything like my brother’s old apartment, I should be able to fix it. I can’t tell you how many times he blew that thing out so he could lounge around in his underwear.”

“I hope it’s not that bad.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

Josh sounded way too energetic for a man doing someone else a favor. It was the complete antithesis of her morbid mood. Then, as he removed his jacket, she saw him wearing a tight-fitting short-sleeved shirt that showed off bulging muscles that perfectly complemented his burly complexion. Maybe it was just a result of her being so lonely after her fiancé broke up with her, but such a sight made parts of her body warmer by default.

As he set his jacket aside, he took the tool box he’d brought with him and carried it over to the utility closet that stood right next to her bathroom. She’d told her co-worker how her apartment was set up. Josh seemed familiar with it and wasted no time in getting to work. That kind of initiative already set him apart from most of the men she’d known.

“So Mia says you’re quite the handyman,” she said, trying not to get too smitten with a guy she’d just met.

“She only said that because I fixed her car for $100 after some other mechanic said it would cost $1500,” Josh replied.

“Well, knowing what we make in a week, I can see why she’d feel that way.”

“To be fair, the mechanic was an asshole who isn’t in business anymore,” Josh said, “and it was just a filthy spark plug. I’m just a contractor by trade, but even I know how basic machines work. Nobody should get gouged like that just to fix something that simple.”

“If only the world were that fair,” Delila said with a smile.

“If only,” Josh said, smiling back.

Now, she was blushing. Her efforts to distract herself from how cute Josh was did the opposite. Her face was almost as warm as her inner thighs. That might have been a nice way to cope with the cold weather, but it made for an awkward situation. Then again, that was a step up from a broken situation.

Rather than risk heating up other parts of her body, she fell silent and let Josh get to work. She started pacing again as he propped the door open and turned on the light inside the utility room. In just a T-shirt and dirty jeans, he retrieved some tools and went to work. Delila didn’t pay too much attention, if only because seeing him on his back gave her too many lurid thoughts. She also sought to stay out of his way so that he could work without some broken woman like her bothering him.

“I’ve seen these models before,” he said as he took off the panels and started tinkering. “They’re old, but they’re usually reliable. When did it stop working?”

“About three days ago,” Delila answered, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know what happened. One day, I just came home from the office and it wasn’t on.”

“Did it ever make any noises? Did it ever start smelling funny?”

“Nope. I tried adjusting the thermostat. I tried calling the building manager, as well.”

“And what did he say?” Josh asked.

“That he’ll get back to me in a few hours. That was two days ago. I’ve been getting his voicemail ever since.”

That’s never a good sign.”

“Yeah, I figured that when the neighbor told me he tends to take his time with repair,” Delila said, rolling her eyes. “It’s his way of telling us to call a goddamn repair man and pay for it ourselves.”

“In other words he’s inept, lazy, cheap, or all three,” Josh said with a chuckle.

“Trust me. It’s all three,” Delila said, laughing as well.

It felt good to laugh. In fact, it felt better than it should have and not just because she hadn’t had much to laugh about in months. Just being around someone who wasn’t as broken as her felt refreshing. Him being an attractive man on top of that was just a bonus…a very appealing bonus.

Delila stopped pacing for a moment and turned back towards Josh. He was peering into an open panel of electronics and shining a flashlight into it. She could smell the dust and grime from across the room. It didn’t seem to bother him, though. That just made him more attractive in her eyes. The idea that a man could get his hands dirty and not care had a lot of appeal.

“It doesn’t look like anything is burnt out or damaged,” he said. “If it wasn’t making noise, then I doubt any of the moving parts are the problem. That’s a good thing because it means it must be something minor.”

“I hope so,” Delila said, “but you should know that lately, the line between minor and catastrophic hasn’t been very clear for things in my world.”

“You have my sympathy,” Josh said. “I’m tempted to ask questions, but I’ll resist for the sake of your heater.”

“I don’t mind if you give into a little temptation,” she said under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, looking up from his work briefly.

“Nothing!” she said quickly. “I just said…I appreciate your help.”

He cast her a bemused grin. He clearly didn’t believe her. Delila had always been a terrible liar, especially in the presence of attractive men. Her ex-fiance didn’t like that for some reason. Josh didn’t seem to mind at all. That just made her blush even more.

“I have a theory,” Josh said as he went back to work. “If I’m right, then the only thing you need to fix your heater is a part that cost less than $15.”

“I hope it’s right,” said Delila, “but I’m not sure the universe will allow it at this point.”

“The wires seem to be working. It’s just the thermocouple that’s busted. As it just so happens, I have a few spares from a job I did a couple weeks ago. I’ll replace it and see if that does the trick.”

“Do what you have to do, Josh. If you can fix this, then that’ll be the first broken thing in my life to get fixed in months.”

“Then, I better be right.”

He sounded oddly determined, as though he’d made it his mission to make her less miserable. For a handyman she wasn’t even paying, it just made him even more attractive.

Delila silent again and let him work, breaking out more tools and getting his hands even dirtier. She found herself pacing once more, but not to keep warm. She kept glancing back towards Josh and then at the window. While her body had reacted strongly to the presence of an attractive man, her mind still struggled to catch up. By letting herself think beyond the activity in certain parts of her body, she came to a few realizations.

Everything in her life felt broken, but she hadn’t done a lot to fix it. She hadn’t gotten her hands dirty like Josh was with her heater. She just lamented and fumed about it. She knew how bad things had gotten, but didn’t make an effort to make things better. It put the past eight months in a new light.

“I need to start fixing my own shit,” she said under her breath. “I can’t just assume things will fix themselves anymore.”

Delila sighed again and shook her head. It was a harsh, but overdue realization. It meant she would have to make some major changes that included bold decisions.

As she contemplated what that might entail, she heard a welcome sound. The heater had turned on. It was working again.

“Success!” Josh proclaimed. “It was the thermocouple. Your heater is officially fixed, Delila.”

Those words almost sounded alien, the idea of something in her life getting fixed. They still had a profound effect.

“It’s working again,” she said with a beaming smile. “I can already feel it.”

“See? It was something minor,” Josh said as he closed the panel and got up from the floor. “Things can be fixed if you know what to tweak.”

“Yes,” she said distantly, “I suppose they can.”

She began stopped pacing and stood under one of the heating vents. She could already feel the warm air blowing into the room, providing some badly-needed warmth after several cold nights. Already, the heavy sweatshirt she’d been wearing felt unnecessary. As if to celebrate having something fixed, she took it off and even kicked off her slippers.

“It’s actually getting warm in here again,” Delila said. “I’ll be able to sleep without hiding under three blankets tonight.”

“It’s a good thing too. It’s supposed to get below zero tonight,” said Josh as he packed up some of his tools.

“And it’s all thanks to you,” she added. “You…a handyman who managed to fix something in my life.”

Delila didn’t intend for those words to come off so dramatically, but it was too late. Josh didn’t seem to mind, either. He just smiled back at her, still in those dirty clothes that showed off his manly physique. He was already attractive. Now, after fixing her heater, he was the sexiest human being in the world in her eyes.

As if to acknowledge that feeling, Delila dared to be a little bolder. She shed her sweatpants like she had her slippers and sweatshirt. It wasn’t lost on her that doing so left her in only a T-shirt and a pair of panties. It definitely got Josh’s attention, though.

“Um…what are you doing, Delila?” he asked with a wry grin.

“What does it look like?” she said playfully. “I’m enjoying the benefits of a functioning heater.”

“So when it’s working, you always lounge around in your underwear?” Josh questioned.

“Not always,” she replied, “but when I’m in a certain mood or have a good reason…”

Her words trailed off. Josh, his hands still dirty and his shirt stained with dust, just stood before her in a surprised daze. However, a grin never left his face. He clearly liked seeing her with minimal clothing. That assured her he would love seeing her in no clothing at all.

“Delila,” he said, sounding awkward, yet curious, “if this is your way of thanking me, you should know that’s not necessary.”

“I know it’s not,” she said as she casually approached, sensually swaying her hips with every step.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather not owe Mia more favors.”

“Mia doesn’t have to know. No one else has to know. I doubt they’d believe you if you told them because what I’m about to do is a complete break in character.”

She sounded like an entirely different woman, one who wasn’t just relieved that her heater was working again. The same woman who’d been so broken when the day began had stepped aside. A newer, bolder Delila Preston took her place.

Josh seemed fond of that new Delila already. He offered no resistance as she walked up to him, slipped her arms around his neck, and embraced him in a way that let their clothed bodies touch. She even made it a point to rub her thigh up against his groin, if only to get his blood flowing in the right direction. He reacted favorably, those dirty hands of his slipping around her waist.

“Josh, you don’t know me very well,” she said to him, “and trust me. Your timing couldn’t be better.”

“I already believe that,” he said, his hands trembling as he felt up her womanly curves.

“Eight months ago, I was a very different woman. I was surrounded by good circumstances – good family, good friends, and even an ex-fiancé.”


“Yes, the ex indicating that something broke…something big. Everything had always been so good. I never had to fix anything. It all just worked itself out. I never thought much of it, but then when just one thing broke…”

She stopped herself as the memories came rushing back. It happened over the course of many months, but it felt like one long breakdown. Her fiancé cheated on her. She lost her job. Her brother has to live at home with their parents while he recovered from his military service. Her heater breaking was just part of that breakdown. Josh fixing it had an impact that went beyond the temperature in her apartment.

“When you come from that world, it doesn’t take much,” Delila went on. “Everything starts snowballing. Nothing works anymore. You don’t know how to fix anything because you’ve never had to. Things just fixed themselves.”

“So…what are you looking to fix now?” Josh said in a curious tone. “Is something other than your heater broken? Because you might need a different handyman for that.”

“Believe me. I’m looking at the best handyman in the world right now. He fixed my heater. If he can do that, then he can definitely help me fix another part of my life that won’t fix itself.”

With focused energy, coupled with the rising temperature in her apartment, Delila leaned in and kissed the burly man who’d gotten a small part of her life working again. He eagerly kissed back, her touch and her gestures drawing him into her impassioned state. She didn’t care that his face was unshaven and his hair was messy. If anything, that turned her on even more.

“Delila,” Josh gasped. “You kiss…like someone who needs more than a working heater.”

“You want to help me fix that too?” she said seductively. “If so, you’re going to need another tool.”

She rubbed her thigh up against his crotch a little harder. Already, she felt a hardness forming in his pants. The grin on his face widened. The man must have had a fetish for broken things and broken people.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of a handyman if I didn’t come equipped for any job now, would I?” Josh said.

“No. You wouldn’t,” Delila said curtly.

“And just so you know, I didn’t shower this morning and I worked all day yesterday. My last two girlfriends did not like being this intimate with a guy who enjoys working in dirty places.”

“With all due respect to your ex-girlfriends, they’re assholes. A man who enjoys working in dirty places deserves a special kind of intimacy!”

Making clear that his disheveled state was a turn-on, she kissed him again and pressed her body up against his. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hands snuck under his shirt, not at all dissuaded by the dust and grime from the floor. If he were bolder with his hands, he would’ve felt how wet she was between her legs. He was too professional for that, but she intended to communicate that desire in other more obvious ways.

The kissing quickly intensified, morphing into full-fledged foreplay. She pawed his chest while he felt up her womanly curves. As their lips and tongues twirled, she led him over to the living room in which she’d been pacing moments ago. Along the way, they shed their ruffled clothes. She pulled his shirt off over his head and undid his pants. While he stumbled to get them off, she removed her t-shirt, revealing that she hadn’t been wearing a bra.

“Wow,” Josh said as he got an eyeful of her breasts. “You have beautiful tits.”

“Tits that need those skilled hands of yours,” she teased.

Delila helped him out of his pants, allowing him to kick off his shoes and socks in the process. She also got his boxers off too, freeing his semi-hard manhood that she had done so much to stimulate. In his full glory, she saw very unkempt, but very manly figure. The fact that he’d used that figure to fix her heater just made her wetter between the legs.

After he kicked aside his pants, they arrived at her couch. Before pulling him into another embrace, she slipped out of her panties. Now fully nude, she guided him onto her couch where they turned their basic foreplay into a heated make-out session.

Showing more initiative than she’d ever shown with her ex-fiancé, she pinned him down and got on top of him, allowing their naked flesh to get acquainted. Hands roamed freely and lips twirled passionately. It led to a state of heated arousal, which felt extra special on such a cold winter day.

By then, her fixed heater had done plenty to warm up her apartment. However, it couldn’t hurt to make some heat of their own.

“Mmm…Josh,” Delila purred as she ran her fingers over his bearded complexion. “It’s still a little cold in here.”

“It is,” Josh said with his hands on her butt as he lay under her. “Want me to take another look at the heater?”

“You could,” she said playfully, “or you could just make hot, sweaty love to me right here on this couch.”

“Well, the handyman in me is tempted to look at the machine.”

“Need me to tempt you any more to convince you?”

“Nope! I already know what needs fixing here.”

With the same energy and spirit he’d shown while fixing her heater, Josh rolled her over on the couch so that she was on her back with her head against the arm. He then hitched one leg around his waist and let the other drape over the edge as he guided his manhood towards her wet entrance. Once in position, he entered her with ease and her womanly flesh embraced him.

“Ooh Josh!” Delila moaned. “My…my sexy handyman!”

“Your handyman…I like that!” Josh said gleefully.

With a real workman’s attitude, he went to work making love to her as only a skilled handyman could. He was a careful and thorough as he’d been with her heater, delivering every thrust as though it were a specific tweak. It set every pleasure-based nerve in her lower body ablaze. She let out loud moans that reverberated throughout her cramped apartment, eagerly supplanting his efforts with passionate gestures of her own.

Her world rocked and so did the couch. His manly sinews grazed perfectly against her feminine curves. It was so hot that they actually worked up a sweat, which was no easy feat in an apartment that had been without a functioning heater for three days. She and Josh still did it, though. Something about that made it even more satisfying.

“Josh! Oh Josh!” she moaned. “So hot! So hard! Oohhh I’m going to come!”

Such fervent, pleasurable lovemaking sent Delila to the brink or orgasm faster than she’d thought possible. Either her sex drive had been broken too or Josh was just more thorough than her ex-fiancé had ever dared to be. She chose to believe it was a nice bonus for a skilled handyman.

When her climax hit, Delila dug her nails into her sexy handyman’s shoulders and threw her head back in a spectacle of ecstasy. She didn’t care that she moaned so loud that she probably startled her neighbor’s dog. She had a working heater and a skilled lover. That was worth celebrating.

“Delila,” Josh gasped. “You…are amazing.”

“I can also…be handy…too,” she said breathlessly.

Making sure she wasn’t the only one putting in the effort, she kissed Josh again and pulled him into another make-out session. She didn’t dare stop their sex at just one orgasm. She barely took time to soak it all in, opting instead to channel her handyman’s dedicated spirit.

With that spirit, their flesh remained united. Their bodies shifted wildly around the couch as his manhood slithered sensually in the depths of her womanhood. Eventually, he ended up in a sitting position with her straddling his hips in an upright position, riding him extra hard. It quickly led to another orgasm for her, but she made a conscious effort to ensure he got his too. When it finally came, expression tensed and his grip on her butt tightened for the final push.

“Oohhh Delila! I…I’m close!” he grunted.

“Yes, my handyman,” she moaned. “Come with me!”

In a final push, she rode him harder, gyrating her hips with a vigor she’d never attempted in her most intimate moments. It helped send Josh over the edge. His grip on her hips tightened, his face contorted, and his manhood throbbed inside her in accord with his release. Seeing him writhe in ecstasy helped her achieve another peak as well, allowing their juices to mix in an intimate heat.

“I think…we’re fixed,” she panted.

“Fixed…yeah,” Josh said breathlessly.

It made for a hot, passionate moment on a cold dreary, day. With her heater going strong, they worked up quite a sweat. The movement ceased and Delila just clung to her handyman, letting him savor his peak. When it passed, she rose up off his member and collapsed with him on the couch.

For a moment, they just laid there in silence, still naked and dazed. The only noise came from the heater, which felt fitting. When it broke, it felt like the last straw for Delila. Now that it had been fixed, thanks to her handsome handyman, it felt like she just took the first step towards fixing her life.

“Hey Josh,” she said, still curled up in his arms.

“Yes, Delila?” he replied, now resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Thanks for fixing my heater.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughed, “and by heater, you mean your actual heater, right?”

“You know what I mean,” she said, laughing as well.

“Just checking,” he said.

“I also meant in general,” she said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. “This morning, everything in my life was broken. I only ever dealt with it by lamenting how broken it was. Now, after you helped fix just one thing, I feel like I’m ready to fix even more.”

“Glad I could help,” he said with another beaming grin. “After all, that’s what good handymen do!”

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Filed under Sexy Short Story

“Under The Stars” A Sexy Short Story


The following is a sexy short story I wrote after enjoying a perfectly clear night sky and seeing so many beautiful stars. I hope everyone else gets to a enjoy a sight like that at some point in their lives. I also hope everyone enjoys this sexy story.

“It’s good to be home.”

That was the first thing Natalie Meyers said to herself after stepping off the plane. She’d just endured a nine-hour flight, which had included three-hour layover in Atlanta and a seat next to a man who snored like a chainsaw. It had been a long day, to say the least, but that made coming all the more refreshing.

She couldn’t make her way through the main airport terminal fast enough. That proved challenging because it was the early evening and everything was still bustling. Crowds of people swarmed in every direction, talking and yelling over each other in a chorus of noise. Having spent three days in a city, her ears were already ringing. It felt like she hadn’t had a quiet moment since she left.

“I need to get out of here,” Natalie sighed as she walked faster.

She still couldn’t hear herself. It hadn’t been her first business trip, but she still wasn’t used to it, the endless noise from every direction. Natalie had grown up in a rural community where the noisiest thing was a lawnmower engine. Even the college she’d gone to had been small and remote – hectic in the day, but peaceful and quiet at night. She needed that peace. She needed that quiet. Even though her job as a web developer made for a lengthy commute, she could only stand the chaos for so long.

It seemed to follow her, even as Natalie exited into the loading area in front of the airport. There must have been a convention or something because the road was lined with taxis and shuttles. One even honked their horn just as she walked by it.

“Hey! Hurry it up!” the driver yelled. “We got a schedule to keep!”

Natalie rolled her eyes and groaned. That was the other annoyance she sought to escape. Her trip involved a lengthy itinerary that had been squeezed into three short days. There were meetings, presentations, lunch-ins, and informal gatherings that she had be part of within a strict timeframe. At one point, she had to schedule her sleep into increments of four hours.

She was sick of all that. For the rest of the weekend, she didn’t want to keep a schedule. She didn’t want to check the clock every 30 minutes or get a buzz from her phone when it was time for another task. She just wanted step back, detach herself from work, and relax.

That feeling still seemed so far away. Then, through the maze of cars and shuttles, Natalie saw a welcome sight.

“Hey there, beautiful! Over here!” said a familiar voice.

“Finally, some yelling I don’t mind,” she said with a beaming smile.

Natalie set aside her suitcase and jumped into the arms of the tall, burly man waiting by the curb. He caught her with ease, sharing extra firm hug as she kissed him passionately. His breath didn’t reek of overpriced whiskey and overcooked steak, like the men she’d dealt with for the past several days. That just wasn’t the style of someone like Peter Brooks. He had simpler, less distinct tastes. Being her fiancé, he knew better than most how much that meant to her.

“Wow!” he said after their lips parted. “Did you miss me that much?”

“You have no idea,” Natalie told him, still clinging to his broad shoulders.

“And here I was worried that I didn’t have time to shave. You know how I like looking good for my future wife.”

“Trust me. You’re five-a-clock shadow and uncombed is the prettiest thing I’ve seen in days. I don’t think I could stand the sight of another comb-over at this point.”

“Good to know,” he said with a humored grin.

Natalie would’ve loved to stay in his arms a bit longer, but she was too eager to get away from the noisy airport. After another quick kiss, Peter picked up her suitcase and set it into the back seat of his truck. They then got in and drove off, navigating plenty of traffic in the process. It was still rush-hour so there was still plenty of noise to go around.

“I know you’re anxious to get home, but they had to close a couple lanes on the parkway,” Peter said as they pulled into a congested road. “Some idiot with a trailer didn’t check twice to see if the hitch was locked.”

“With the way my day has gone, that sounds about right,” Natalie sighed.

“Was it really that rough?”

“Not rough, just busy,” she said. “Every hour of every day of that trip, there was always something going on. I couldn’t stop to catch my breath or take time to collect my thoughts. It was overwhelming!”

“Well, you’re home now. We got the entire weekend to ourselves. I even told my team at the quarry not to call until Monday.”

“Even if someone blows up the batching plant?” she joked.

“I don’t care if they blow up half the state. I’m spending the weekend with my fiancé. She needs me more than my job, right now.”

Natalie smiled lovingly at her future husband. She then reached over and lovingly embraced his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Even while stuck in traffic, it put a smile on his face as well.

It was exactly what she needed, quality time with Peter, away from the commotion and chaos of her job. After the last few days, it seemed downright therapeutic. Natalie thought she could handle working for a software company and living out in the country. For the most part, she had. As her career grew, it seemed to get harder. There were times when it seemed too hard, but Peter helped her stay strong. She honestly didn’t think she could’ve made it so far without him.

She lingered close to him, showing her appreciation of those strong arms of his. Working in a quarry might have seemed unappealing to most, but Peter was a hands-on kind of guy and it showed in his muscles. He was a man of strength and grit, the kind who let his actions do the talking, which stood in stark contrast to most of the men she knew.

As a result, he appreciated peace and quiet as much as her. Silence between them was rarely awkward and with all the cars around them, they needed whatever serenity they could get. They must have lingered on the parkway for a good 20 minutes before they finally made it onto the highway. There was plenty of frustration and horn-honking to go around, but Natalie refused to let it get to her. She knew things would get easier once they got far enough away from the city.

“Looks like we’re past the worst of it,” Peter said as they drove onto the highway. “It won’t be much longer, now. I promise I’ll get you away from this mess as fast as this truck will allow me.”

“You’re so sweet,” Natalie said, giving him a playful kiss on the cheek. “If you get pulled over, I’ll gladly pay the fine myself.”

“My cousin knows the sheriff. I’ll call in some favors if I have to. It’s supposed to be a nice, clear night…no storms, no traffic jams, and no alarms waking you up at the crack of dawn.”

“You can stop enticing me, Peter. I’m already eager to get home and out of these damn work clothes.”

“Any chance you’ll let me help with that?” he teased.

“Well, that all depends on how quickly you can get us to a zip code where the cows outnumber the people.”

She threw in some seductive undertones, adding both incentive and anticipation to her lover’s efforts. He responded quickly, speeding up and passing several cars on the highway. One driver flipped them off, but he didn’t seem to notice. She could already tell he was entertaining thoughts of an intimate reunion. If he knew just how many thoughts she’d been entertaining on the flight, he would’ve drove even faster.

Natalie tried not to get too ahead of herself, though. For the moment, getting away from work had priority over her sex life. She let her husband focus on getting them home while she settled in, letting her mind and body settle after so much work.

At least a half-hour passed, which was the average time it took to get from the airport to the country roads that led to her and Peter’s house. It felt much longer than that, though. Natalie didn’t even look at the clock or check her phone. She didn’t care to know how late it was or how little rest she’d gotten over the past three days. She’d left those worries back at the airport.

As they got farther away from the city and deeper into the countryside, Natalie found herself looking up at the sky. The sun had set hours ago and a full moon illuminated the sky alongside plenty of stars. It was a sight she’d come to appreciate growing up in such a rural area, a clear night sky full of stars. It was something she just couldn’t get in the city or even the suburban office park where she worked.

“The moon is really bright tonight,” she commented shortly after they exited the highway. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It’s no brighter than usual,” Peter said, finally slowing down a bit. “Trust me, the dogs would’ve noticed.”

“I guess it just feels that way after staying in the city for three days. My hotel room overlooked a brick wall and an air conditioner unit.”

“That’s some view,” he laughed.

“It didn’t make much difference. The night before I left, I joined my co-workers for this rooftop mixer at the hotel. It was a clear night, just like this one. I could see the moon, but I didn’t see a single star. I didn’t even hear any crickets. There was just cars, yelling, and the occasional police fire siren.”

“Sounds like they got too much going on to just admire the stars. It’s a damn shame too. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“That’s just it. I think they do, on some levels. They’re just resigned to it. They shrug it off like it’s no big deal.”

“That’s their loss, I guess. Then again, they probably don’t have fond memories of watching the stars with their future spouse in high school.”

“Funny, I don’t remember us just watching the sky on those nights.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything because three days without you has made things mighty lonely back at the house. The dogs are nice, but there’s only so much companionship they can give.”

“I would hope so,” Natalie said curtly. “Then again, I shouldn’t be talking. While I was on that trip, I was surrounded by all these people…perfect strangers and friendly co-workers. And yet, I still felt lonely.”

“Or maybe you just missed my companionship too?” he teased.

“I don’t doubt that was part of it. At the same time, though, it was so…disorienting.”

Natalie hugged her shoulders as she thought about it. She kept gazing up at the moon and stars. They only 15 minutes away from home. At that point, they had ventured into the quiet back roads that connected their isolated community from the bustle of the nearest city. The sky was so much clearer, devoid of tall buildings and glaring lights. Something about that resonated with her on a personal level.

Looking back over at her future husband, still looking so focused and poised, Natalie felt something she hadn’t experienced in the city. Sitting next to her wasn’t just another random figure who’d passed her by at a busy crosswalk. He was Peter Evan Brooks, a hard-working country boy who loved baseball, dogs, and gangster movies. He was the man she’d randomly met in the sixth grade during a group project for social studies…the man who’d asked her out on a dare from his brother…the man who’d proposed to her on a clear, crisp night under the stars.

That simple, but profound idea – that the man next to her meant so much for reasons that seemed so small on paper – hit her like a splash of cold water. It was like she needed a reminder of why she worked so hard in the first place. Along with that clarity, however, came another powerful feeling…one that would delay the final stretch of her trip home.

“Peter,” Natalie said, her tone becoming much more serious, “pull the truck over.”

“What?” Peter said, swerving slightly along the narrow road. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine…almost,” she assured him. “There’s just something I really need right now and I don’t want to wait until we get home.”

To make her intentions more obvious, she reached over and slipped her hand between his legs, rubbing along the crotch of those dirty blue jeans he refused to watch. The way she touched him caused him to abruptly slow down, causing him to grip the steering wheel harder. He seemed to get the message, but Natalie decided to emphasize her desire.

“The moon is out, the stars are shining, and the back of your truck is empty,” she said, leaning over and whispering into his ear seductively. “Peter, that trip left me so tense. Please…help me feel at home again.”

Her hand still rubbing the inseam of his pants, she playfully nibbled on his ear-lobe, something that always got his blood flowing in the right direction. Natalie felt him tense, even as he kept his eyes on the road. That old her he’d already decided.

“I’m pulling over,” he said, his voice laced with a determined grit that she found so sexy.

Peter pressed the breaks, causing the tires to skid along the poorly-paved roads. He then pulled the truck over, parking it along the gravel curve. It was a bumpy, uneven ride that shook them both from their seat. Natalie didn’t mind, though. If anything, it turned her on.

As soon as the truck came to a stop, he turned off the engine and undid his seat-belt. Almost immediately, he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Natalie matched his passion every step of the way, running her hand over his unshaven face while stroking the growing bulge in his pants. However, as much as she craved her fiancé’s love, there was something else she craved.

“Outside,” she said intently. “I need to do this outside.”

“Need to? Or want to?” Peter questioned with a half-grin.

“Need!” Natalie said with completely certainty. “I really, really need it.”

Her words left no room for uncertainty. She didn’t care that they were out in the open. They were already on a rarely-traveled backroad. They hadn’t seen another car drive by in nearly five minutes. There was nothing but farmland on one side of the road and open field on the other. There were no buildings or people looming over them. It was just them, the warm air, and the night sky.

After parting from their embrace, she undid her seatbelt and got out of the truck. She then stumbled towards the back, throwing off her jacket and undoing the top several buttons of her blouse. Peter followed suit, undoing his flannel shirt along the way and the white undershirt beneath it. In the hot, muggy night air, clothes were unbearable, especially after wearing only formal business attire for three days.

“Off…got to get it off!” Natalie said with growing desperation.

By the time she met Peter at the back of the truck, she got her blouse off and he’d already loosened his belt. They embraced again, smothering each other with hard kisses and affectionate gestures. Just feeling that cut upper body of his, complete with chest hair and the toned muscles that came from working at a quarry, sent her libido into overdrive. She’d never wanted her lover’s touch more than she did at that moment.

As they lips and tongues meshed, Peter helped get her out of more clothes. He undid the clasp of her bra, allowing her breasts to tumble free into the night air. He also unzipped the back of her skirt, allowing it to fall to the dirty gravel below. Now in just heels and a pair of panties, Natalie already felt more at home. She still sought more.

“Peter…the truck,” she told him in between kisses.

“I hear year, darling,” he said with a manly grin.

With one arm still around her waist, he opened the rear door to expose the truck bed. It had little on it other than a few tool boxes from the quarry. That ensured they had plenty of room to work with. Given how horny she felt, they were going to need it.

“You do need this. I can tell,” Peter said. “If I’m going to be your husband, then I got to prioritize your needs.”

“You’re a good, honorable man, Peter,” she told him. “Now what are you waiting for? Get those pants off!”

Like an overly eager prom date, Natalie jumped up into her husband’s arms, kicking off her heels in the process. He instinctively caught her, his powerful hands clenching her butt in just the right way. With the strength and fortitude that made Peter a testament to manliness, he carried her onto the truck bed and laid her down.

She didn’t care that it was dirty, covered in dust from rock and cement. She actually welcomed that smell after spending days in a hotel that always reeked of window cleaner and bleach. Now on her back, looking up at the stars with the moon illuminating the area around her, she watched as Peter took off his pants, boxers and all. He already looked like an angel ready to welcome her home…one who just happened to have a raging semi.

“If anyone sees us, it’s on you,” Peter teased.

“I don’t care if the entire county sees our naked asses from above,” Natalie said. “I’m going to make love to my future husband right here out in the open.”

“When you say it like, that it sounds even sexier!”

Now, he seemed to share in the burning need. After kicking off his pants and boots, he crawled onto the truck bed with her and kissed her again. Like a couple of horny prom dates in heat, they made out on the dusty surface.

The light of the stars, the sound of the crickets, and the gusts of cool wind created a special kind of ambience. It was the complete antithesis of the atmosphere she’d experienced in the city. She wasn’t just another face in a sea of people surrounded by buildings. She was Natalie Meyers, sharing an act of passion with Peter Brooks in the peaceful surroundings of their rural home.

Her lover seemed extra dedicated to making her feel at home. After some heated kissing mixed with playful foreplay, he tender trailed his lips down her neck and over her breasts. As he made his way down her womanly body, he grasped the sides of her panties and pulled them down her shapely legs. She lifted her hips to accommodate him, welcoming the feeling of clean country air between her legs.

Once off, Peter didn’t even set her underwear aside for later. He threw it out into the grassy field next to the curb, showing no intention of retrieving it later.

“Relax, my love,” he told her in that deep, seductive voice of his. “Just lay back and admire the stars while I make you feel at home.”

“At home…yes,” Natalie said a she slipped into a daze of desire.

With little regard for bugs or dirt, she did as her love requested, turning her attention to the stars and trusting her future husband’s amorous intent. She felt those strong hands of his grab her by the thighs and push them apart, further exposing her exposed flesh to the elements. Peter didn’t let them get too exposed, though. True to his word, he buried his face in her inner thighs and began giving her oral sex.

“Oohhh Peter!” she gasped, her voice echoing over the crickets and winds.

The feelings that followed were welcoming, to say the least. Peter was more direct than usual, elevating her hips up to his face and using his tongue to probe her hot depths. He knew her anatomy so well, having memorized all her most sensitive areas. He was so thorough, not being too careful, but not being in a hurry either. He treated giving his future wife oral sex with the same urgency he had in getting her home.

Hot, powerful sensations coursed through her body, the warmth contrasting perfectly with the brisk winds that blew over her naked skin. As Natalie soaked in every feeling, she let her body writhe wildly like an animal unchained. She even fondled her breasts, supplementing the sensations and further heightening the desire.

As she soaked in the feeling, she kept her eyes on the stars. The visual spectacle of a sky unhindered by city lights supplemented the spectacle of receiving oral sex from the man she loved. It was sight she couldn’t see in the city, as well as a feeling she couldn’t get from anyone else. That just made every sensual sensation even more meaningful.

Despite several gusts of wind that blew over the truck, Natalie reached full aroused. Even Peter seemed impressed as he gave her tender folds a few extra licks, taking in her womanly scent and joining her in a daze of desire.

“Mmm…so hot and wet,” Peter said. “I missed you so much, Natalie.”

“Me too, Peter,” she said, already gasping for air.

“I’m going to make love to you now,” he told her, “right here…under the stars.”

“Under the stars with my future husband…yeah, I’d like that.”

With a glint of confidence and an aura of strength, her future husband set her hips down and got back on top of her. Natalie hooked her legs around his waist, drawing her lover into her grasp. The weight of his masculine physique pressed up against hers, as if to protect her from the gusty winds. She could already feel his erect member pressing against her inner thighs, an expected byproduct for a man who loved his truck, the country air, and going down on a beautiful women. As Peter aligned his body with hers, he captured her lips in another kiss.

Then, in a simple thrust of the hips, he entered her. Like two lost souls finding each other from a prolonged absence, their flesh came together.

“Ohhh Natalie!” her love moaned.

“Peter…” was all Natalie could get out.

For a moment, they just savored the feeling, her warm folds embracing his hardened member. That feeling of smooth, intimate penetration sent shivers of delight coursing through her body. Fueled by that feeling, Peter started moving, kissing down her neck and caressing her feminine curves. The truck began shaking. Her world shook with it. Less than an hour ago, she’d been stressed and restless. Now, she was in a world of loving bliss.

“Oohhh Peter!” Natalie cried out.

She tightened her hold on him, digging the balls of her feet into his lower back and raking her nails over his shoulders. Peter was more energetic than usual, working his body with hers at a vigorous rhythm that tested both her endurance and the tires of his truck. They both held up, though. Through each fervent thrust, Natalie felt an ecstasy that complemented their shared passions.

As their lovemaking unfolded in the midst of crickets and humidity, she still found herself gazing up at the stars. Peter kept his face buried in her neck, as he often did when they went at it with extra vigor. It allowed her to keep admiring the stars and moon above, a celestial spectacle that she’d come to appreciate for so many reasons. After not being able to enjoy it while on her trip, it took on almost as much meaning as the act of making love to Peter…almost.

“The stars…my love…my home,” Natalie found herself saying. “I’m really…home!”

Her passionate proclamation echoed into the night sky. It also prompted Peter to step up the pace of their lovemaking, rocking her body and the truck harder with his fervent motions. It sent her to the brink of orgasm in record time, so much so that she grabbed her lover by his unkempt hair and braced herself.

“Ooh I’m close, my love! I’m so…so close!” she told him.

“Consider it…your homecoming,” he whispered into her ear.

Natalie smiled joyously and held her love closer as the ecstasy approached. With her gaze still fixated on the stars above, she awaited that sweet release that could only come through her lover’s dedicated efforts.

When the feeling washed over her, she let out another cry to the heavens that probably carried into the next county. For all she knew, she woke the horses in their neighbors’ stable. If they complained, she’d apologize later. At that moment, Natalie just let herself descend into that warm oceans of ecstasy.

Her toes curled and her naked flesh burned with blissful sensations, a perfect counter to the brisk winds of the night. Muscles, inside and out, throbbed in accord with her release. Along with that feeling came a sense of certainty. No matter how far she traveled or how alone she felt in a crowd, she could still come home to a man who loved her so much that he would have sex with her in the back of a pickup truck.

“I love you, Peter…I love you so much,” Natalie said through the euphoria.

“I love you too, Natalie,” Peter said to her, still panting heavily.

“And now…it’s my turn to welcome you!”

Still holding onto her lover’s hair, she drew him into another kiss. As their lips and tongues united once more, she shifted their bodies around so that she was the one on top and he was lying on the dusty truck bed. Like her, he didn’t seem to mind, though.

Their flesh never parted, his member still hard and in need of its own release. Natalie went to work granting him that, straddling his waist and rising into an upright position – the “poised cowgirl,” as he called it.

From there, she began riding him, gyrating her thighs and working his manhood along her throbbing folds. She didn’t care that parts of her lower body were still recovering from her orgasm. Her love had been dedicated enough to bring her to ecstasy under the stars after a long, lonely trip. The least she could do was return the favor.

“Natalie…so beautiful,” Peter said as he looked up at her naked form.

“My love…share this with me,” she urged him. “You and me…right here…under the stars.”

Natalie took his hands in hers, their fingers becoming entwined as she stepped up the pace of her movements. She gazed at him lovingly, watching her breasts bounce with every movement. She could tell how close he was by the way his face contorted with greater intensity. It was the look of a man who really missed her and the wonderful love the made together.

“Natalie…I’m coming!” he grunted.

“Yes, my darling. I feel it too,” she said to him.

She held his hands close to her chest, allowing him to feel her beating heart as he achieved his climax. Like her, his body shuddered, his manly muscles bulging under the weight of the feeling. Unlike her, though, his focus wasn’t on the stars above. It was on her, the woman who loved him and had missed him so much.

They clung to each other through the duration of his ecstasy. Natalie felt his manhood throb inside her, his manly juices mixing with hers in a convergence of passion. As he processed the feeling, she rose up off him, their flesh finally parting. She then laid down next to him, curling up in his arms atop the dirty truck bed. While he caught his breath, she lovingly stroked his chest and kissed the side of his face.

“Thank you, Peter,” she told him. “I can safely say I don’t feel so disoriented anymore.”

“Yeah…you’re welcome,” her love replied, “and thank you for giving me another reason to marry you. How many other fiancés out there want to make love under the stars like this?”

“The kind who likes to keep things simple, easy, and sexy,” Natalie said playfully. “I can handle a trip to the city, but I’ll always need a good love to come home to.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to being that love…till death do us part.”

With a beaming smile and an affectionate gesture, Natalie kissed her future husband once more. It was a beautiful thing, a culmination of a special act that had unfolded in a special place. They didn’t need a fancy hotel room. They didn’t need a fancy bed, either. They just needed a pickup truck, a clear night sky, and each other.

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“The Countdown” A Sexy Short Story For New Years


First off, Happy New Year, everybody! I hope everyone had a great holiday. The following is a sexy short story I wrote to help usher in the new year with a bang, among other things. Enjoy!

“It’s almost time, Violet,” said Evan Jose intently. “Are you ready?”

“Almost,” replied Violet, his equally excited wife. “How much longer do we have?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he told her. “Hurry up! I’m ready to end this year with a bang.”

“You and me both, my darling.”

Evan was already breathless, feeling an energy and excitement he didn’t usually feel so close to midnight. Both he and his wife weren’t big on late night activities. They hadn’t been since college. Getting older, getting married, and building successful careers made it challenging to enjoy the kinds of midnight antics that once defined their reckless youth.

However, for one special night, they made an exception. On New Years Eve, just before the clock struck midnight, he and Violet went out of their way to preserve a special tradition that began shortly after they started dating. It had a simple premise, but carried a great deal of meaning for their relationship and their love.

“I found it!” Violet said as she rushed into the living room, carrying a mid-sized box in her arms. “It was stuck between that oversized TV box I told you to throw away…twice, if I recall.”

“Shit, I knew I forgot something this morning,” Evan grumbled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will. Now, help me with this. The clock is ticking!”

She was right and Evan didn’t need further motivation. Moving quickly, he opened the box with her and pulled out the same air mattress they had used at the same time last year. Having already moved the coffee table to the side, Evan spread it out over the living room floor while Violet activated the pump.

Their eyes constantly drifted towards the TV and the clock. They had coverage of the annual New Years celebration in New York City, complete with the traditional ball drop to usher in the new year. For most people, it was a formality and a mindless media spectacle. For him and Violet, though, it represented so much more.

With every passing second, their anticipation heightened. After laying the mattress out, Violet attached the air pump so that the bed could inflate. The stage was officially set. That left only a few minor details.

“We’re officially back on schedule,” Violet said.

“Looks like it,” said Evan as he watched the bed inflate. “You know what that means, right?”

“Yep! Time to ditch these itchy clothes.”

Violet couldn’t shed her shirt and pants fast enough, stripping down to her bra and panties with an eagerness that rivaled their honeymoon. Seeing his beautiful wife strip down, revealing that she wore the same sexy lace underwear he’d bought her for Christmas, was enough to a special passion in any man. He quickly did the same, stripping down to his boxers and tossing his clothes across the room.

Now in their underwear, the light of the TV and their Christmas tree illuminating their living room, Evan approached his wife with the same bravado he’d shown the night he proposed. Coincidentally, that night had also been New Years Eve and was a major part of why they valued their tradition.

“We did it, Violet. We made it through another year,” Evan said as he embraced her in his loving arms.

“We did,” she said in that extra-seductive tone of hers. “This one was tough. Work got hectic. My dad still refuses to retire. Your sister got divorced.”

“And all that happened before summer. Don’t forget our Labor Day trip that went horribly wrong.”

“You mean the one that involved you breaking three ribs because you thought you could ski better than your cousin?”

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “That was just a really nasty bruise. Then, there’s me having to work overtime on Thanksgiving. There’s my uncle hitting us up for money. There’s that promotion I didn’t get.”

“There were plenty of setbacks. That’s for sure,” she conceded.

“But there were a lot of good days in between,” Evan pointed out, cupping her chin and holding her closer. “No matter how rough things got or how many things went wrong, you and I got through it. Coming home to you, being with you, and sharing those burdens…it made this year feel like a success.”

“While the extent of that success is debatable,” Violet said as she playfully pawed his chest, “the results speak for themselves. We’re still here. You’re still my husband and I’m still you’re wife. And I’m ready to cap off this year the same way we capped off the last one!”

Evan grinned, his embrace growing bolder as he trailed his hands down her half-naked form, feeling up her womanly curves. The mention of their previous New Years celebration brought back fond and vivid memories.

It had been in the same room under the same scenario, complete with an inflated air mattress and the TV blaring coverage of the New Years festivities in New York. That moment was the most recent of a long string of New Years Eve moments that he and Violet had forged together. It started as a playful game back when they had started dating, making love in the final minutes of the year. Then, they did it again the next year and the year after that.

Whether by fate or effort, it helped deepen their love. Now, they were prepared to carry that love into another year and, as the final countdown commenced, their desires escalated to a familiar intensity. After checking the clock on the TV, their favorite New Years celebration could begin.

“I love you so much, Evan,” said Violet, her gaze radiating with passion.

“I love you too, Violet,” said Evan intently.

“Well, you’ve got ten minutes left of this year to prove it!”

“Ten minutes, huh? That should be enough!”

The countdown had officially begun. Their favorite holiday tradition could finally commence. Evan didn’t let a second go to waste.

With a potent blend of urgency and passion, he kissed his wife on the lips. It wasn’t a soft, gentle kiss. It was hard and direct, reflecting the intense desire he had for her…a desire that he had only ten minutes to express. Having prided himself on being an efficient lover, Evan quickly escalated his affections.

As their lips meshed, he felt up her womanly curves, tracing a path up her thighs until he reached her heart-shaped butt. Violet returned the favor, twirling his tongue with his and pawing his exposed upper body with more intent. Shortly after grabbing hold of her butt, she slipped a hand over his boxers, which already had a significant bulge. Despite the growing urgency, their desires were perfectly aligned.

“The bed,” Evan gasped in between the kissing.

Violet responded with a soft purr, followed by more aggressive foreplay. She gave the bulge in his boxers a hard squeeze while deepening their embracing, making it so her breasts pressed right up against his chest. That sent a clear signal to Evan and he responded in kind.

Showing off the kind of masculine strength that often drove her wild, he picked her up in his arms. On instinct, she hitched her legs around his waist and grabbed onto his neck. Now supporting her entire weight, Evan laid her down on the air mattress that had since finished inflating. With a quick peak at the TV, he saw that time was still ticking away. That prompted more urgent foreplay.

“The underwear…so itchy,” Violet said, her every word laced with seduction.

“That’s an easy fix,” Evan replied in his manliest tone.

Working quickly, he unclasped his wife’s lace bra and slipped it off with ease, exposing those beautiful, voluptuous breasts of hers. His first instinct was to take them in his hands and bury his face in them, but time was a factor. He had to be efficient with his passions.

He still shoved his face between them, evoking a playful laugh from Violet as he slipped his hands down to her waist and grasped the sides of her panties. Like a man on a mission, he slid them down her thighs and she eagerly lifted her hips to get them off. She showed just as much intensity, reaching for his boxers and trying to pull them off. She would’ve torn them off had he not slipped out of them shortly after tossing her panties aside.

“Mmm…that’s better!” she said, her gaze narrowing on his semi-erect manhood.

“Still room for improvement,” Evan pointed out.

“Yes. There is!”

More intense kissing and heated foreplay continued. Naked skin meshed with naked skin. Violet’s bare breasts pressed up against his chest. His growing manhood rubbed up against her thigh. Her hand – the same one that had been fondling his arousal through his boxers, no less – quickly found its way to his manly flesh.

The feeling of her loving touch didn’t just accelerate the flow of blood in all the right directions. It added even more incentive to cap the year off in a way that was both memorable and blissful.

“Ooh! Feels like you’re ready, my love,” Violet purred.

“The clock is ticking,” Evan told her. “You ready too?”

“Are you kidding? Let’s start the fireworks!”

Traditionally, people waited until after midnight to start the fireworks. He and Violet had their own special tradition and theirs was a lot more fun. Another quick check of the TV showed that they were right on schedule. In the spirit of their sexy tradition, Evan lit the proverbial fuse and positioned himself over his wife.

She eagerly parted her legs and welcomed him into another deep embrace. Holding onto her hips for leverage, he guided his rigid flesh to her waiting womanhood. She was every bit as aroused as him, her outer folds so wet with juices. With the same urgency and desire that had ignited their special tradition, Evan entered her with a single thrust, their flesh uniting in the final moments of the year.

“Ohhh yes!” Violet gasped. “Evan…I feel you inside me.”

“Oh Violet…so beautiful,” Evan moaned.

In a burst of focused, yet festive passion, he began making love to his wife. He put in extra effort, working his body against hers in a steady procession of movements. Manly sinews meshed with feminine curves. Naked skin grinding against naked skin as his rigid manhood slithered within her hot womanly depths.

Grunts and groans soon filled the room, drowning out the countdown to the new year. Every ounce of energy and attention was focused that singular act, turning the love they felt into a tangible feeling.

“Evan! Ooh Evan!” she panted.

It was music to his ears, by far his favorite holiday tune. Evan evoked more of it, kissing down her neck and caressing her womanly curves as he rocked her body with his movements. She did plenty to share in the effort, raking her fingers over his shoulders and digging the balls of her feet into his lower back, supplementing his every movement.

Together, they rocked the flimsy air mattress and the world around them. Pants and gasps mixed with joyous laughter as their lovemaking became more playful. They rolled around together, making love in different positions at different angles. She got on top at one point and rode him like a sex goddess. At another, he pinned her on her side and tickled her toes as he thrust into her at an angle.

He and Violet always enjoyed mixing things up, especially on nights when they had passion to spare. On New Years Eve, they always made sure to have a little extra and made sure to channel it in just the right ways. As the waning minutes of the holiday ticked by, their ability to express their love faced one last test for the year.

“Violet…I’m close,” Evan gasped, steading his movements for that final push.

“Me too, Evan,” Violet panted. “We’re…going to cut it close!”

“I’m game…if you are.”

“You know I am, babe!”

A quick glance at the TV confirmed what they already sensed. They were down to their final minute of the year. The big flashy ball in New York City was starting to drop, counting down the remaining seconds of the year.

In anticipation of that moment, he and Evan shifted their bodies in order to watch, as per the tradition. Violet got on her hands and knees. Evan positioned himself behind her, grabbing hold of her waist before thrusting his member back inside her and resuming their sex. Once again, he channeled his love and energy into the loving act. He also used what he knew about his lover’s sexual proclivities to ensure they shared in the fruits of their efforts.

As their naked bodies rocked, he slipped one hand between her legs and fondled the most sensitive areas of her womanly flesh. He knew just how to touch her and how to bring her to the brink. It was a testament to his dedication, as well as their love of getting intimate.

“Oohhh yes! Just like that, Evan!” she gasped. “Just…like that!”

Violet reacted with equal dedication, bucking her hips and moving with him in perfect harmony. She was ready to embrace the coming ecstasy and so was he. However, to complete their favorite tradition, they had to make sure it was the first thing they felt in the new year. As the ball on the TV screen descended and the clock ticked, they counted down those final moments with so many other.

“5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!”

In that special moment of transition from one year to the next, he and Violet achieved orgasm. It was as close to simultaneous as two dedicated lovers could get. Together, they let out a cry of delight that ushered in the new year in the best possible way. His member throbbed and her inner muscles contracted in release of shared ecstasy. Waves of pleasure rippled between them, their love manifesting in a real feeling that they conjured at just the right moment.

It was uniquely satisfying, their mutual climax being the first feeling they experienced in the new year. As the fireworks and confetti dropped in New York City, he and Violet just soaked in the feeling. With their flesh still entwined, Violet rose up so he could embrace her once more. Even through labored breaths, they shared a loving kiss to complete the tradition and celebrate their love for another year.

“Happy New Year, my darling,” Evan said to her.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Violet said. “I can’t wait to make this year better.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “Once again, we started it off with a bang!”

“It’s the best way to start and end any holiday.”

“Amen to that!”


Filed under Sexy Short Story

“The Greatest Present” A Sexy Short Story For Christmas

Merry Christmas Boudoir photography

The following is a sexy short story I wrote as my personal gift, of sorts, to those in the mood for a sexier kind of holiday. I hope you enjoy it and I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas.

“Ungh! Who the hell left the alarm clock on?” groaned a restless Aaron Wales.

The former theater actor turned sales manager rolled over and pounded his fist on the blaring clock radio. Much to his annoyance, it read 6:00 a.m. That was usually the time he had to get up just to be at work on time. Christmas morning was one of the few times when he could sleep in. Now, with his ears still ringing, he sighed as he laid back in bed.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” he muttered.

Neither his tone nor his mood was very festive. That wasn’t entirely because he’d been jarred from a peaceful sleep, either. Christmas had been extra stressful for the past couple years. It was stressful enough, getting together with family and finishing all his shopping in time. Both he and his wife, Violet, came from big families that loved to go all out when it came to celebrating the holidays. It was usually so joyous, but for Aaron, there wasn’t much to celebrate.

Not long ago, his dream of acting professionally took a big hit when the theater company he worked for went bankrupt. It happened unexpectedly. While he later found out his boss had been mismanaging the budget for years, Aaron had worked hard for that company. For a time, it laid out a path for him to achieve his dream.

That dream now felt like a distant memory. He’d married Violet just before the company went bankrupt, promising her that he would bring raw spectacle to their lives and many others. She believed him. Being a graphic designer, she was one of the few who appreciated his love of the arts. Having to take a job in a sales department, just to keep paying the bills, felt like he’d broken that promise.

“I miss feeling excited about the holidays,” Aaron said to himself. “I miss feeling excited about any day.”

Resigned to his lack of holiday spirit, he turned over to see that the other half of his bed was empty. That didn’t surprise him. Violet was an early riser and was probably planning out their trip to his parents’ house later that morning. Content to let her work, he rolled over in hopes of going back to sleep.

Then, his phone started buzzing. He’d received another text. With another groan, Aaron reached over to response.

“What now?” he muttered.

Upon opening his phone, he was surprised to see a text from his wife. The fact they shared the same undersized apartment made that strange. What was even stranger, though, was the content of the text.

“Wake up, you wannabe Scrooge,” he read. “Santa came last night. He left something special under the tree.”

A string of colorful emojis followed, which confirmed it came from Violet. She ended every text with excessive emojis. It was her way of letting him know she appreciated his taste for the theatrics. It also let him know when she was being serious.

“Something special, eh?” Aaron said. “Well, I’m definitely not getting back to sleep now.”

Curiosity quickly overrode grogginess as he slipped out of bed and put on his bath robe. He then replied to the text, letting Violet know he was on his way. She responded with more emojis, as if to encourage him to hurry.

Heeding her request, Aaron exited the master bedroom and made his way down the hall. He suddenly felt like a kid again, making his way downstairs on Christmas morning to open presents. He already noticed that the lights from the Christmas tree in the living room were turned on. He could even hear a fire crackling in the fireplace, which was very unusual at such an early hour.

“What are you up to, Violet?” he wondered.

Seeking both answers and a good excuse for being up so early, he entered the living room not knowing what to expect. What he saw would’ve roused even the most bitter of Christmas spirits, among other things.

“Good morning, darling,” greeted a loving, sexy voice. “I hope you like your present!”

Aaron just stood in stunned silence for a moment. What he saw before him might not count as a classic Christmas miracle, but it probably should have.

Lying just in front of the Christmas tree they’d only finished decorating a week ago was the same beautiful woman he’d married, but presented in a spectacle that any theater enthusiast could appreciate. That simple nighty she’d worn to bed the other night was long gone. In fact, all her clothing was gone. She was as naked as the day she was born, except for an oversized red bow over her breasts and connected streamers that covered other parts of her female anatomy.

In addition to the bow was a large tag that read “To: Aaron. From: Santa.” It, along with the lighting from the tree and the steady glow of the fire in the fireplace, gave the impression that St. Nick himself had dropped off an angel to revitalize his Christmas spirit. If the sudden change of blood-flow in his lower body were any indication, it was working.

“Wow,” Aaron said with a beaming grin. “I don’t remember putting this on my Christmas list.”

“You didn’t have to,” Violet said curtly. “Santa knows what the boys and girls of the world wants, especially if they’ve been extra good.”

“And I’ve somehow been that good?”

“You have,” she said, “more so than you think.”

Like a true angel of the season, she rose up from the floor. The big red bow stayed on her body, covering her breasts. However, the fancy red streams did nothing to hide the rest of her nude features. Her legs, hips, and pussy were all clearly visible as she approached and took him in her loving arms.

“I’ve seen it too,” Violet told him. “These past few years – ever since the theater company went under – you’ve wanted more than just a cushy position as a sales manager.”

“Guess that’s one part of the list you don’t need to check twice,” Aaron said.

“I remember how your spirit sunk that day,” she went on. “I don’t think it has fully recovered. You still want a life in theater, but your path to it seems blocked. Even though it’s disheartening, you still find a way to be so good…to treat your family, your friends, and me with such love.”

“I’ve never been one to take my frustrations out on others. I’ve always tried to save that for the stage.”

“And in the spirit of Christmas, I just can’t let someone that good go without a special present.”

She embraced him closer, parts of her naked body making contact with his. Aaron stood enchanted under her touch as she lovingly caressed his unshaven face, not minding his bed hair or demeanor. He found himself returning her gesture, slipping his arms around her waist and feeling under the bow to touch her naked skin. Suddenly, Aaron wished he’d worn loser boxer shorts.

“Your holiday spirit never ceases to amaze me, Violet,” he told her. “This is a hell of a way to cheer a guy up on Christmas morning.”

“What makes you think that’s all I’m doing?” Violet asked with a sneaky undertone.

“Well, your lack of panties – and any other clothing, for that matter – does send that message.”

“That’s still only part of it. Take a look under the tag. You’ll see what I mean!”

Now intrigued, as well as horny, he did as she asked and turned over the extra-large tag hanging from the bow. Taped to the back was something almost as astonishing as seeing his naked wife under their Christmas tree wearing nothing but a bow.

“Holy…babe, is this what I think it is?” Aaron exclaimed, his excitement rivaling that of any child.

“That depends. Do you think it’s a business card of the West Broadway Theater Company? One that happens to have a note from the managing partner on the back?”

“A note that asks when can I start and who to call,” he said, his head spinning. “How did you…I mean, I thought they weren’t hiring!”

“They weren’t,” Violet told them, “until I cashed in almost every favor I could at my company. I offered the company some extensive pro-bono work from my team, provided they give you another chance to prove yourself. They agreed two days ago.”

“And you’ve been keeping this news from me ever since?”

“Only because I wanted to make it something special,” she said in a more serious tone, “a holiday spectacle the likes of which you didn’t think you could have anymore. Well, guess what? That changes today!”

The intensity in her voice was almost as big a turn-on as her being naked. Aaron still needed a moment to process it, holding the card up with his shaking hands to make sure it was real. Near as he could tell, it was as real as the falling snow outside. It was really happening. He officially had another chance to achieve his dream.

From the looks of it, his wife had gone out of her way to make it happen. That work she mentioned meant she was in for a lot of late nights for no added pay. If that beaming smile on her face was any indication, though, it was a price she’d gladly paid.

“Violet…I’m at a total loss here,” Aaron said, still in disbelief. “This is, quite possibly, the greatest Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Even better than the time your brother got you Hamilton tickets?” she questioned.

“Yes! This is definitely better than that,” he said without hesitation. “I honestly thought my dream was over. I did everything I thought I could possibly do. I was almost resigned to the idea that it was impossible.”

“Except, it wasn’t,” she pointed out. “You just needed some help getting another chance.”

“No. Not just help,” Aaron said, “a Christmas miracle!”

The card still in hand, his dream once again within his reach, he gave his wife the biggest kiss he’d given since their wedding day. His heart and spirit were energized in ways that he hoped to channel into his next theater performance. For the time being, though, he focused all of it onto the beautiful woman in his arms.

Their kiss was so passionate that it ended up loosening the bow covering her breasts. It also loosened his bathrobe, which already felt burdensome under the heat of their intimate contact. With the fire raging in the fireplace nearby, the whole room felt hot and wearing any clothing at that point felt untenable.

“Mmm…miraculous, indeed,” Violet said, already breathless.

“That’s just the first part. Now, I have to give you your gift!” Aaron said in his most seductive tone.

“You mean the new headphones I asked for? You already gave me those,” she said playfully.

“You know what I mean,” he quipped with a smirk. “Beside, I get the sense you didn’t dress up like a present without wanting to be unwrapped.”

“You sensed right, dear husband.”

Her seductive tone now matching his, they kissed again with greater purpose. As their lips and tongues meshed, Aaron undid the sash to his robe and let it fall to the floor, leaving him in just a pair of white boxers. He then took his wife in to his powerful arms and laid her down on the carpet just in front of the Christmas tree.

She laughed joyously as she showed off his strength and spirit, which he hadn’t shown much of in recent years. That must have really turned her on because she began undoing the bow covering her naked body. What she started, though, Aaron made sure to finish. Like a kid tearing into the biggest present under the tree, he ripped it off to render Violet completely naked.

“Now there’s a sight worthy of holiday magic,” Aaron said with a festive grin.

“Then, what are you waiting for?” Violet teased. “Get those boxers off and join your greatest gift under the tree!”

He didn’t need any further tempting. With a perfect blend of urgency and eagerness, he slipped out of his boxers, rendering him as naked as his lover. He was already partially aroused, an unavoidable byproduct of seeing his beautiful wife under the Christmas tree so early in the morning. As he hovered over her and took in the sight of the woman who’d just helped revitalize his dream, the arousal escalated in accord with his passion.

“Come, my loving husband,” she said to him. “Let’s create our own holiday special!”

Needing no further miracles to give his wife the gift he desired, Aaron went to work expressing the breadth of his love for her in the most physical manner possible. Being a lover of theater, he knew better than most how to turn passions into actions.

He began with a round of heated kissing, complete with plenty of tongue. He supplemented that with his wife’s favorite brand of foreplay, which involved him kneading her breasts with both hands, giving her nipples a pinch while she raked her fingers over the sinews of his back. That intense, physical touching created a heat that even the holiday cold couldn’t hope to quell. The added light of the Christmas tree helped create an even greater ambience.

“Mmm…I’m definitely in the spirit, now!” Violet purred as he kissed down her neck.

“Just you wait,” Aaron whispered into her ear, “the show’s just getting started!”

Further tapping into his theatrical talents, he proceeded to the next act of their holiday special. All the kissing and touching had rendered his love aroused and eager for his manly flesh. He could tell by the way her legs parted, the heat from her inner thighs radiating with desire. His manhood already fully erect, he prepared their flesh for a very festive union.

Shifting his hands from her breasts to her hips, Aaron positioned himself between her legs. Violet showed plenty of spirit as she eagerly hooked her legs around his waist, welcoming into her grasp. Their eyes never diverted as he guided his member towards her wet entrance. With a single, determined thrust, he entered her. In that moment, the line between their love and a Christmas miracle disappeared.

“Ohhh Aaron!” she gasped. “That feels so…festive!”

“Festive indeed,” he grinned.

They kissed again. Holiday miracles gave way to more basic instincts as their bodies began moving in the traditional dance of lovers. Aaron was more focused than usual, really digging his knees and feet into the floor as he made love to his wife, working their bodies in a rhythm worthy of the holiday spirit. Deep moans, hard gasps, and blissful proclamations of love followed, welcoming Christmas morning with the utmost joy.

Upon establishing that extra-special rhythm, their naked bodies moved and rocked together in a procession of intimate positions. They rolled around together on their living room floor, laughing and smiling as they embraced each other with amorous passion. One moment, Aaron was on top, pumping away into her intimate depths. The next, she was on top, riding his cock like the true holiday angel she was in his mind.

Beyond the inherent bliss that came with making love to his beautiful wife, Aaron saw in her a woman who had gone the extra mile. Violet was not just someone who married him for who he was. She married him for who he was striving to be. That kind of love set her apart from any woman he’d ever known. Like any good theatrical performance, the vision had to take priority over the various acts. For a love like theirs, it made for a beautiful performance.

“Violet! Ooh Violet…my Christmas angel,” he moaned in between his heated movements. “I…I’m really close.”

“Me…me too,” she panted. “Come on! One more miracle! Let’s…let’s come together!”

Whether by theatrics or holiday magic, their bodies seemed perfectly entwined for their ultimate peak. As they made their final push, they ended up in front of the fireplace, both in an upright position. Violet had her legs arched around his waist while he had a firm hold on her butt. From that position, she could ride his cock and he could supplement her every movement with his arms. It was the perfect setup for the grand finale.

Together, they guided each other to the brink or orgasm and beyond. When they reached the top of that proverbial peak, he embraced her closely and she embraced him back. Then, in one final miracle, they each shared in the ultimate holiday treat.

“Ohhh Aaron!”

“Oohhh Violet!”

Just as their voices supplemented one another, their bodies trembled under the weight of unfiltered ecstasy. His manhood tensed while her womanhood throbbed, their fluids mixing together in a pool of intimate bliss. Ripples of sensations morphed into waves as a euphoric heat surrounded them, compounding the heat of the fire with that of their naked bodies.

In that moment, under the light of their Christmas tree and the fire in their fireplace, the greatest present he could’ve asked for manifested before his eyes. His wife hadn’t just demonstrated how much she loved him and how far they’d come. She showed, through the spirit of the holidays, that dreams didn’t have to disappear. Through his wife’s love and a little holiday theatrics, miracles were possible.

“Merry Christmas, my darling husband,” she said lovingly.

“Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife,” Aaron replied, matching her love every step of the way. “Thank you for giving me the greatest Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, “and if you think this is special, just wait until you see what I have planned for New Years!”

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