Updated: Dec 17, 2022
Waking up with her brother’s tongue stroking wetly through her pussy was, possibly, the best way Christmas could think of. She played at sleep and let him lick and suck at her, while his hands slid beneath the pajama top to touch her breasts. When he sealed his lips around her button, though, and began to flick his tongue around it in little circles, there was no more playing. She ground her pussy against him and sighed happily, giggling as he worked her toward the perfect morning orgasm. Then it came, and she shuddered, her legs giving small kicks as the pleasure brought her around.
Her hand found his, still beneath her shirt, and covered it. There was something so erotic about feeling his hand on her breasts, covering it with her own through the layer of cloth, resting it there as he gently squeezed her. He continued licking slowly up and down her slit, apparently in a mood to return the long and luxurious oral pleasure she’d given him the night before. The moment was perfect and she couldn’t break it with words, so she only moaned softly and enjoyed the long, thorough tongue fucking.
After bringing her off again, Brad moved up her body and kissed her, sharing the reward he’d extracted from her. His naked cock, hard and hot, pressed against her pussy. Just the slightest inkling of consent and he’d push it into her, fill her up and fuck her. He’d make slow love to her, she knew, feeling the mood. It was torture on herself not to give him the go ahead, but it wasn’t time. That would ruin the build-up and then she’d let him fuck her every day. Instead, she broke the kiss and cupped his cheek, closing her legs.
“I loved that,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Any time,” he said, his voice gruff, excited, but a bit annoyed at having been denied.
“I need to shower,” she said, “and I’m going to do it alone. I need to go out with the girls today.”
Brad let her go, looking down at his hardon, then at her with a pleading look.
She shook her head teasingly and said, “I like you this way. My game, my rules. Don’t you dare empty those balls on your own.”
Brad groaned as she stood up and stretched, shaking her hair and giving him an enticing view of her ass as she bent over to retrieve the pajama bottoms. She tossed them to him, then stripped off the shirt, standing naked in front of him, then tossed him the clothes.
“Do some laundry for me, will you?” she asked, and ran for the shower.
When she was dressed, Christmas crept into the laundry room, where Brad was putting clothes into the washer. She glided in behind him and slid her arms around his waist, nuzzling the back of his neck. Her hand snaked downward, into his pajama pants, and found his half-hard cock.
Brad groaned as she stroked it for him, getting it hard again in moments. She continued to stroke him, her fist around his length, jerking him delicately.
“When I come home, I could suck it for you again,” she whispered. “You could let your little sister suck your cock, like a filthy little pervert. Would you like that?”
“You could put me on my knees and push your big cock right into my mouth again.”
She stroked him faster. “You could fuck my mouth really hard, like a pussy, since I’m teasing you so bad. Do you want that? Do you want to choke me with it and make me do it for you until you cum?”
“Cum for me,” she begged, her tits pressed into his back. “Cum for your little sister and you can do it. You can use my mouth like a wet little hole for your cock.”
Brad’s penis jerked, and he groaned, cumming into her hand, his pants, as he leaned against the washer. Christmas withdrew her hand and licked it, watching him as he slowly turned around.
“You have some more laundry to do,” she said, sucking on her finger. “I’ll be home later.”
Brad gasped and then said, “What… about your car?”
“I’m taking yours,” she said, grinning. “You don’t mind, right?”
He shook his head. She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.
“Don’t you go getting yourself on the ‘good’ list. I need you to be really naughty, alright?”
He nodded, swallowing, and watched her walk out the door, his keys jingling in her hand.
The town’s main street had grown over the last four years, Christmas noted, as she strolled down the sidewalk with Sasha and Leah. Many of the same old businesses, town staples that had been installed for decades, stood alongside newer ones. Some of these, she noted, were familiar corporate names that had been present in the big city. Ella’s Homespun Fashions stood next to a Gap store, and a Starbucks sat across the street from The Roost, a family-owned cafe and coffee bar. The two of them seemed to have a healthy rivalry going, too, as each store had their own sign claiming to be able to produce their own “twist” on the other’s favorite drinks.
On every other lamppost, Christmas saw, were signs advertising this year’s holiday activities. The middle school would be putting on a performance of A Christmas Carol, while the dance school that Christmas had attended was doing The Nutcracker. Then, there was the annual pageant, a fundraiser for the benefit of the Christmas Scholars Program, which provided scholarships for college.
“What are you going to wear for the pageant?” Sasha asked as they passed by a Columbia store and pushed through the doors of Dressed by Diane.
“I didn’t know I signed up,” Christmas answered.
Diane Sansbury, still making the clothes, and with her daughter at the register, scurried around the counter to wrap Christmas in a hug.
“I heard you were back,” she said, kissing her on each cheek, “and I’ve already got your dress!”
“My dress?” Christmas asked.
“For the pageant,” Diane explained. “I’ll tailor it in a bit if I need to, but you’re going to knock them dead this year!”
She looked from Sasha to Leah, then back to Diane and said, again, “I didn’t know I signed up.”
“I signed you up when you told me you were coming back,” Leah said, grinning.
“How… thoughtful of you,” Christmas said, grimacing.
“You know, it’s a foregone conclusion that you’re going to do it. How could you not?” Sasha asked.
Christmas sighed and said, “I guess I know what I’m wearing. Can I see it?”
Diane took her by the arm and dragged her into the back, where racks of clothes, finished and in production, stood. She passed the racks and opened a cabinet in the back, then returned with a dress on a hanger and laid it out on the table. The dress was a gorgeous thing of shimmery green that looked like satin. Christmas could tell that it would be form-fitting and the neckline was perilously low.
“It’s a bit… sexy. Isn’t it?” she asked.
Diane beamed and nodded her head, saying, “Like I said. You’re going to knock them dead!”
“Should I try it on?”
“Of course!” Diane crowed and handed her the dress, then indicated a changing room in the back.
Christmas took the dress to the room and changed. In the mirror, she blushed at how sexy it was. The backless dress had an asymmetrical neck, with one side held up by a thin strap. Each side was attached to a satin choker that fit around her neck. It adhered tightly to her form, showing off luscious cleavage, and was long on one side, while her right leg was bare from the hip down. little sequins glittered under the light. She had to admit, it really was gorgeous.
She stepped out of the dressing room to a whistle of approval from Diane, who immediately set about taking measurements, intent on getting it perfect. Once she was satisfied, Christmas returned and changed again, then brought the dress back.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “What do I owe you for it?”
Diane scoffed and said, “I can’t charge you for showing off my work. How does someone bill a girl named Christmas in a town named Christmas, during Christmas. It’s unholy.”
Christmas, used to this line of reasoning from the town, asked, “What would be an appropriate donation to make?”
“The shelter always needs a hand,” Diane said, “all those little homeless dogs, and at this time of year.”
She shook her head sadly.
“Done,” Christmas agreed.
Diane showed her back out, where she found Sasha and Leah browsing the racks.
“Did it meet with your approval, Mrs. Claus?” Sasha jested.
“Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” Christmas said.
“Why couldn’t my parents have named me Rudolph?” Leah asked wistfully.
“It wouldn’t have resulted in dresses,” Christmas said. “The town would have just hitched you to the sleigh and made you pull Santa down Main on Christmas Eve.”
“Is it weird that I find that a little exciting?” Leah asked.
“That depends. Are you wearing a red nose in that fantasy? If so, then it’s completely legit,” Sasha added.
Leah held up a yellow dress and raised her eyebrows.
“If you want to look like a banana,” Sasha said, and Leah sighed, placing the dress back on the rack.
“Why are we even bothering?” she asked. “It’s not like any of us are going to bring in more donations than Christmas, anyway. The town mascot’s first pageant? It’s hopeless.”
“Don’t count on that,” came a snide voice from behind.
The three of them whipped around to face a tall blonde. Her green eyes glittered, a match for the small, twinkling Christmas wreath earrings she wore. Her coat was a Burberry in the classic check, which matched her handbag, and her winter boots were black Prada padded nylon booties. Christmas couldn’t help feeling somewhat offended that a person would wear a pair of $1,300 boots in the snow, but then, that was just Marcy.
“Hello, Marcy,” Christmas said, coldly.
“Mascot,” Marcy said derisively.
“You can’t buy the pageant, Marcy,” Sasha said.
“Anything can be bought,” Marcy shot back, smirking.
“Except Brad,” Leah said, and Christmas felt pleased when the comment brought an embarrassed flush to Marcy’s cheeks.
Marcy recovered and waved her hand, dismissing the jab, and said, “You three can just bow out now. Once everyone gets a look at what CJ made for me, it’ll be lights out.”
She gave them a devilish wink.
“So, you went to the most expensive tailor in town,” Sasha said, “and that’s going to guarantee you a win? You do remember that who is actually in the dress matters, too, right?”
“That’s why I’m a lock for it,” Marcy said, flipping her hair.
“Whatever,” Leah shot back, “Christmas is gonna stuff your stocking!”
Despite the rivalry, the four of them all had to laugh at the absurd joke.
“Too bad jokes aren’t going to help you get donations,” Marcy said, pasting her bitch face back on.
“What are you doing down here with us peasants, anyway?” Sasha asked, “Isn’t this place a little low-rent for the likes of you?”
Marcy shrugged and said, “CJ doesn’t do gloves and Diane’s are super cute. I’m buying them all to donate them to St. Mary’s.”
“Generosity, or a tax write off?” Sasha asked.
Marcy ignored her and said, “Just don’t get your hopes up, mascot. I would so hate for you to be disappointed.”
She stalked away toward the counter, a nearly visible cloud of bitchiness trailing behind.
“The true embodiment of Christmas cheer, that one,” Leah said.
Christmas shrugged and said, “Let her have her fun.”
Christmas returned home with numerous shopping bags to find her car in the driveway. On her way in, she noted that the wiper blades had been replaced, and new tires added all around. It was washed and a fresh oil change sticker showed in the corner of the window. She shook her head and walked inside.
She found Brad in his office, the same one that had previously been their father’s, going over statements for what looked like investments. He was on his feet and kissing her the moment she walked through the door. Christmas melted into it, purring softly as his tongue probed her mouth. As wonderful as it was, she pulled herself away.
“Before you get all hard again, could you help me bring in some bags?” she asked, flushed.
“Too late,” Brad said. “I’ve been hard for a while.”
He reached for her again, but she danced away, laughing, and said, “No! Bags first and then I need to work for a bit.”
“Oh? Got a brilliant idea?” he asked.
“I always have a brilliant idea,” she said, walking back toward the car.
Brad helped her lug the bags into the house, then carried them up the stairs to her unused bedroom. Once he set them down, he was on her again, but she wiggled away.
“You’re not to defile me,” she said, “Not until after the lighting festival tonight. And then, only if you’re a perfect gentleman.”
“That seems doomed to failure,” he said, frowning. “I thought you knew me better.”
“Get out,” she ordered, “I have words in my head that need to come out.”
“Dirty words?” he asked.
“What other kind do I write?”
“As you wish, m’lady,” he said, doffing an imaginary cap with a bow.
“Not that gentlemanly,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Brad shut the door. Christmas took her laptop to the bed and rested back against the pillows, breathing in and letting her imagination run. The fact that she did want him to pin her down to the bed and fuck her was perfect for the tale she had in her head. She gave the piece the tentative title that she already knew would stick. Twelve Days in Christmas, she typed and giggled.
The writing was a joy. It was both her confessional and her fantasies, giving her a little thrill as she chronicled her own seduction. To her readers, of course, this was an erotic fantasy, like all of her stories. The knowledge that it was true, she kept to herself, but it was the truth of it that made it generate sales. The other work, while still sexy, never did as well as the romanticized publication of her own sibling seduction.
It was the secret that made it fun, Christmas thought, as she held Brad’s hand and walked toward the Christmas Green for the lighting of the tree and town square. No one gave a second thought to Brad, holding his younger sister’s hand. To them, it was sweet, familial, the kind of gesture one expected from two orphaned siblings that had grown up close and bonded further over an untimely loss. With their fingers intertwined through the gloves, though, Christmas could feel it for what it was, and it was romantic.
She casually swung her arm, hand-in-hand with her brother, while they walked down the snow-dusted sidewalk toward the Green. To the rest of the town, they were still those two sad kids, Brad just nineteen and Christmas seventeen, tearful and afraid after the boating accident that had taken their parents. They saw cute, but Christmas knew that when the door was shut, it wouldn’t be her own bed she slept in.
It was sexy, and it was naughty, but it was also something deeper. She’d spent four years thinking about it, away from Brad, away from the town, sorting out the confusion. She’d dated boys, slept with them, looked into their eyes and tried to probe their souls, but there was no real depth, not like this. She clung to Brad’s arm and gave him a little wink, which he returned.
Sasha and Leah were already waiting on the edge of Christmas Green, where the big tree stood, waiting to be turned on and kick off the two weeks of merriment. Over those weeks, there would be an influx of visitors, out-of-towners looking to share in the spirit of the season that the town was named for. They would shop and drink, ice fish or sleigh ride. They would sled down the steep hills and fill the pockets of the local businesses. A few days before Christmas eve, most of them would be gone, though.
The three girls all exchanged customary cheek kisses, and then Sasha and Leah blushingly planted one each on Brad. Together, bundled in hats and coats, scarves around their necks, they looked up at the giant tree.
“Who are you going to donate to in the pageant, Brad?” Sasha asked, with a hint of hope in her voice.
“Oh, I suppose I’ll just have to see the line-up,” he said, noncommittally.
“You can’t just give it to your sister. That’s, like, cheating. Right?” Leah asked.
“I didn’t know you’d signed up,” Brad said to Christmas.
“I didn’t know until today,” she said, giving Leah a glare that contained a grin.
“Just as long as you aren’t donating to that… bitch,” Sasha said.
Brad narrowed his eyes and Sasha said, “Not Chris, you dork. Marcy.”
“Oh,” Brad said, rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t piss on Marcy if she was on fire.”
“I would kind of like to see someone piss on Marcy. If she was on fire, that would just be a bonus,” Leah said.
“Really feeling that Christmas spirit, huh?” Brad joked.
“Guess that was kinda mean, huh? Sorry, Mr. Santa,” Leah retracted.
“What would the world do without rich bitches?” Christmas asked. “We’d have no one to lord our own superiority over.”
She pulled her arm from Brad’s and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Sasha quickly took her place, sliding her arm into Brad’s and saying, “Her loss!”
She batted her eyes at Brad, who only shook his head.
Christmas crossed the edge of the Green and flung her arms around Hank, wrapped in a plaid coat.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, happily, chuckling, “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks for fixing the car,” she said, “and all the other stuff. That was too nice.”
“Wasn’t nothing at all,” Hank said, “and don’t even think about settling the bill.”
“Don’t fucking say it,” she said, breaking away with a laugh, “If I have to hear Christmas in Christmas at Christmas one more time, I’m going to… I guess I’m going to live with it. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“Whoa! The mouth on you, girl!” Hank chastised her kindly, “Your daddy would’a swatted you good for talk like that.”
“I’ll stop in at St. Mary’s and ask for forgiveness,” she said, then added, “I just wanted to thank you.”
Hank nodded, tilted his hat, then said, “I got my money on you in the pageant this year. Looking forward to seeing that dress that Diane’s been on about.”
“Did everyone but me know that I was doing this?” she asked.
“Surely did,” Hank said, chuckling, “You shoulda known better, what with those two harpies you associate with.”
“I’m going back to my harpies. See you at The Pole?”
“I’ll be in for a drink after, yup.”
Christmas kissed his cheek and walked back to her friends.
“You want him back?” Sasha asked, offering her Brad.
“You can keep him,” Christmas said. “He’s a little young for me.”
“You hear that lover boy?” Sasha said. “The town mascot just gave you to me for Christmas.”
Brad only chuckled and said, “I think the town abolished indentured servitude quite some time ago.”
“Pity,” Sasha grumbled, “I’d let you unwrap me every night.”
She winked up at him. Brad did not reply to the invitation, but he allowed her to continue clinging to his arm.
A loudspeaker cut through the air announcing loudly, “Merry Christmas!”
A responding answer went up from the assembled crowd, in kind. From down the street came the sound of carolers. All eyes turned toward the sound. In the distance, a procession approached, the children’s choir from St. Mary’s, each of them holding a candle. Behind them came a sleigh, red and lit up, pulled by a team of reindeer. Children in the crowd, many hoisted on the shoulders of adults, clapped or cheered excitedly. Further to the rear were the drum line from the high school, beating time for the carolers, marching in step.
A sheriff’s car rolled slowly behind, the lights having been swapped out for red and green. The procession slowly made its way onto the Green, stopping in front of the dark tree. The lights of the car switched off and Mayor Tinsley, dressed in his Santa suit, dismounted the sleigh with a jolly, “Ho, ho, ho!”
He made a show of strutting about, carrying a sack, which he set beneath the tree. The carolers filed off to either side of the tree, finishing their song. When it had died away, Santa took up a remote in his hand, showed it to the crowd, and declared, “Christmas time… is here!”
He clicked the remote, and the tree flared to life, filling the Green with brilliant color. All along the Green, string lights winked on in soft white, and then down the streets, more lights filled the night, draped between lampposts, hanging from the frontage of the shops. The town hall at the head of the Green glowed with a gigantic wreath. A cheer went up from the crowd. Christmas hooked her hand into Brad’s free one and then took Leah’s in her other. They shared a quick look that, for some reason, made Christmas blush.
As the carolers sang, parents with small children came forward in a line and Santa handed out a present to each child. Every adult in attendance could recall when it had once been them, standing in that line, holding a parent’s hand, being given a gift. The years would go by and those children that stayed would one day stand in line with their own. That was the way of things in Christmas at Christmas. Brad squeezed his sister’s hand with meaning, and she felt tears in her eyes, wondering if she would one day stand in that line again.
It didn’t seem possible. The secret wouldn’t allow for it. But as she glanced up at Brad and saw the mirrored mist in his own eyes, she knew that she would not trade standing in the line for him. She squeezed his hand back, knowing he’d get the message. As tradition would have it, they waited until the line was empty. At this point, normally, the mayor would wish them all a good night. However, the voice over the speakers happily asked, “And where is our holiday mascot? Christmas Carol?”
“Oh my God,” Christmas groaned, as everyone looked around for her.
Leah dragged her away from Brad, who only gave her a stupid grin, rather than sweeping her away from the embarrassment. Laughing, Leah pulled her to the front, where Santa took her hand and once more announced, “Christmas… is here!”
She gave the crowd a reluctant wave as they cheered for her. Standing to the side, silently killing her with her eyes, she saw Marcy. She was not cheering.
The North Pole, known to the locals as simply The Pole, was not the only bar in town. It had the distinction, though, of having the largest open area and an excellent stage for holding events. This made it ideal for hosting the annual pageant, as well as dances, costume balls, and spring flings. The ladies, along with Brad, pushed through the doors to find the place already filling with other locals and visitors.
Lively country blasted from the modern surround setup and Sasha began to dance toward the bar with Leah and Christmas in tow, leaving Brad behind. He seated himself with some of the locals and quickly fell into conversation. Christmas stood in line at the bar, watching the excited holiday crowd. The last time she’d been in, she wasn’t legally allowed to drink. The atmosphere had seemed different.
At twenty-four, now, and having lived on a college campus in the south, the bar scene was familiar. Just like in college, the locals gathered together, while the visitors sat apart in smaller groups. There were couples, too, dotting the place in pairs. Some of them she did recognize as annual visitors, who were welcomed in warmly. In a corner of the place, with a dark cloud brooding over them, sat Marcy, Julia, Carry, and Jason. Christmas nodded politely to the little group of the town’s well-off, but received only a sneer in reply.
Despite having done nothing to her, and being gone for four years, Marcy still held onto that lifelong hate. Some things never changed. Their turn at the bar came and Christmas turned from the glaring group of stuck ups to find Keller Miller behind the bar.
“Chris?” he asked. “Heard you were back in. Merry… you know.” he grinned.
“Hey, Kel. Your dad retire?” she asked.
He shook his head, “Nah. He’ll never retire. He just gives me the bartending more often now. He’s out on the floor with Pat Mitchum.”
Christmas looked over her shoulder, scanned, and found the elder Miller out on the dance floor, swaying with the ten-year widower.
“No shit?” she asked.
Kellen nodded, saying, “What’ll you have?”
“Something festive. Your call. Just don’t give me any of that ‘your money’s no good here, mascot’ bullshit,” she said, pulling out her wallet.
“You kidding? I’d get disowned for skipping the check, even for you.”
“One Red-Nosed Reindeer coming up,” Keller said, and started mixing.
A few moments later, drink in hand, Christmas found herself making the rounds, being hugged, kissed, and occasionally groped by townsfolk. She watched Sasha try again to get Brad to dance with her. Eventually, he gave in on a slow song. Sasha practically glowed, but as they swayed, she could see Brad’s eyes on her, and she gave him a wink. Let Sasha have her dance.
The flames from the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the living room, Christmas drew the curtains. Brad set aside the poker and beckoned her over to the couch, where he wrapped them in the blanket and put his arm around her. Their noses touched, nuzzling in the firelight and the glow of the tree.
“Was I gentlemanly enough for you?” Brad asked.
“Single minded, aren’t you?” she jested and stroked his cheek.
“Hard not to be. You’re too gorgeous.”
Christmas was silent as he kissed her softly, then broke away and asked, “Do you ever want to stand in the line?”
“In the line? Like, the gift line at the festival?’ he asked.
She nodded, saying, “You were thinking it, too, weren’t you?”
He paused, nodded, and said, “Just remembering when it was us.”
“Did we lose some of that fascination with Christmas?” she asked.
“My fascination with Christmas is still going strong,” he said, and slid his hand into her waistband, teasing her skin.
“No way. It’s pretty impossible when you, literally, live in Christmas,” he said.
“Do you think you want kids?” she asked.
He shrugged and answered, “If I had to choose between kids and you, then no.”
“You’re sweet,” she said and kissed him again, her hand moving up his cheek to slide through his dark hair.
Brad’s own hand moved again, pushing down her pajama pants and sliding between her legs, his fingers tracing the warmth of her sex as she parted her legs for him. She purred softly into his mouth at the delicate touch, teasing the back of his neck, toying with the little hairs as their tongues played.
“You should take me upstairs,” she said, breathily.
Brad adjusted, putting his arms around her waist and, as he stood, she wrapped her legs around him. Christmas planted small kisses on his neck as he carried her, hands on her bottom, up the steps to the bedroom. The strength of him, to be able to carry her that distance, made her wet thinking about that same strength being used to pin her and fuck her. God, why did she insist on teasing them both? For a silly Christmas game?
No, not just that. It was still the small, nagging hint of uncertainty. Even as hot as he made her, knowing what he could do to her, the pleasure of it, she had to be sure it was right for both of them. There was that 1% of uncertainty, and it felt as though playing out the game would resolve it. That, and the game itself was tremendously hot.
Brad laid her down on the bed and aggressively yanked down her bottoms. She yelped at it and felt of flush of desire at the little show of animal dominance. As much as she wanted to play out the game, she found the display so goddamned sexy that if he’d simply pulled her panties aside and taken her, she would have made no objection. He didn’t, though. She could see the same want in him, but he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t push past that barrier without her say so.
That did not stop him from pulling off her panties and pressing his mouth between her legs, though. Ravenous, he sucked and licked at her, drinking from her like she was life itself. She shuddered, arched her back and squeaked as he hit the perfect spot. He felt it in her, knew it was right, and kept at it. His hands gripped her hips, held her in place as she wriggled against his tongue and it felt right, so right and perfect.
Her fists gripped the sheets as he growled into her, sending pleasant vibrations into the little bundle of nerves. The sound of the wet squishing, and not just from his tongue, sounded sexy in the darkness. She gasped as his work on her sent her up the peak, over, and then there was that spectacular, carnal explosion that made her squeeze her own breast as her mind shattered with the intensity of it. Lost in the wave, she tugged at him, pulling him up with her.
Christmas pushed him onto his back and put her mouth around his cock, his groan of pleasure only spurring her on. His head on the pillow, he breathed deeply as she put all her effort into making it as good for him as he’d done for her. When she deemed him sufficiently hard and wet for her purpose, she climbed on top of him. She tugged her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside as she spread her knees to either side of his hips. His hands rested on her, guiding her toward his cock, the need to be inside of her almost painful on his face.
That was not the game, though, as much as she wanted it herself. Instead, she trapped his cock between the lips of her pussy, sliding it back and forth along his length, coating his shaft in her arousal. She tossed back her head and rode him this way, rocking back and forth slowly along his cock, giving a small sigh each time his cockhead bumped against her clit. Fuck! It was torture of the most pleasant kind. One of his hands slid up her belly, palm flat, slowly creeping, until it held her breast.
Back and forth, back and forth, rhythmically she slid until she felt his aching cock jerking and ready to cum. His grip became tighter, and she looked down on him, with only the moonlight to show her his face, his need for her. She could have been blind and still felt it as powerfully, she thought, and then it happened. Her rhythm, her dance on his lap, pushed him over the edge and he groaned as he came, splashing her sex and his belly with his seed. Still she rode it, milking him, and a moment later she followed with her own pleasure. Her hips rocked, bucked, and her body trembled as he held her in the dark.
More chapters of heartfelt friendship, erotic passion, and tearjerking tales await in the full story of Twelve Days in Christmas. Pick this story up in the shop to read all 142 pages of the beautiful story of sibling romance and the depth of true friendship.