Mark and Betsy had never visited the Slocum’s country home before; their previous interactions had all taken place at their plush city apartment where the spread of food and wine had always been overwhelming and their other dinner guests were wonderful conversationalists, physically beautiful or handsome, and the hosts always seemed to aggressively encourage flirting. Mark and Betsy needed no prompting in that area. Although they were otherwise happily married, they took advantage of vacations and parties to explore their options. As they drove up to the huge, impeccably restored colonial-era farmhouse with a dozen expensive cars parked in the heavily falling snow, they both silently hoped that they would find some sexual surprises waiting inside. As they padded through nearly a foot of new snow, they smelt the burning logs in the fireplace and heard the champagne-fueled laughter inside and realized they weren’t going to be disappointed.
Just before Sid Slocum opened the huge oak front door for them, Betsy grabbed Mark’s arm and swung him towards her. Before he could say anything she held his face in her small, still warm hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue immediately finding his. He loved being kissed so spontaneously and passionately by his wife, especially when she was wearing “Obsession” perfume. It reminded him of their first outings during college, when Betsy, barely 5-foot tall and blonde, would make the rounds at all the parties but always used that kiss to let Mark know it was time to go back to her off-campus apartment. On her it was such a sensual scent he could never resist whatever she’d ask after the accompanying kiss. But before she could say a word, Sid opened the door, flung his arms wide and enveloped Betsy happily, whisking her inside, while laughing over his shoulder, “Thanks for the terrific Christmas present, Mark!” Then they were lost in the crowd of partygoers dressed in tuxedos and fabulously expensive dresses.
By 2AM most of the guests had left, claiming the snow would make driving --especially after a few flutes of champagne-- more dangerous than usual. The last Mark had seen of Sid he was standing on the middle of the sweeping staircase that led upstairs to the bedrooms. “Anyone who doesn’t feel like driving, and would like to risk spending the evening here, is welcome to claim a spare bedroom. In the meantime, I have business to attend...” and he turned and took the stairs two at a time. He’s after someone, Mark thought, I’d know that look of outright lust anywhere. And I wonder where my dear wife has hidden herself, he wondered?
After a half-hour of fruitless searching he stood in the library doorway, watching the fireplace across the room in front of him, while a few couple chatted quietly. Suddenly a small hand reached out from behind the library door behind him and begins gently caressing his ass. Whoever owned that hand had snuck through the back halls of the big house and silently entered the darkened library from the other side. Mark smelled Obsession and decided that he would enjoy the moment, rather than squawking like the Christmas goose. His hands in his tuxedo pockets felt his cock growing steadily as the mystery hand slide down between his pants legs stealthily and gently found his balls.
Mark stared intently at the Christmas trees in the corner of the living room before him and the pile of presents beneath it. Ah, yes, his mind returned to a moment earlier in the evening when he’d unwrapped a present from Sid, and unconsciously stuffed the scarlet ribbon in his pocket. He felt it there now, and thought, How fortunate; just what I need!
Seeing that the few guests on the couches were mesmerized by the fire (and probably tired and more than slightly drunk) he knew no one would notice him leave. With that he swiveled around and with one step he was behind the library door, facing his molester. To his shock, it was not his Betsy, but rather Sid’s petite wife, Margo, who apparently also had a passion for Obsession. With a slightly tipsy grin on her face, Margo backed up into the darkness as Mark hesitated for a second. She wore a pale cashmere sweater and a single strand of pearls to match, a dark woolen tartan plaid skirt, and dark stockings. She’s lost her shoes somewhere and seemed incredibly small standing in Mark’s 6’4” shadow. With her pure white hair cut short she was an erotic Christmas elf incarnate.
Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Mark clamped one large hand over her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly wide and seemed to reflect the light from the other room. Obviously taken aback she stood perfectly still. Mark impulsively whispered, “Don’t make a sound. You started this and I’m in the mood to finish it. If I only had a little mistletoe...” As Margo began to giggle he took her face with both hands he leaned to kiss her. Margo simply tilted her head, and closed her eyes. At the last second he stopped and whispered, “Open your mouth, pet.” Without hesitation, she opened her mouth; he kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking hers immediately.
