Velvet and Mistletoe

I stand by myself in the store, looking at fun things to try on. Things that will stretch and conform to my body. Fuzzy and warm things - I can't resist a good chenille sweater. I have an adoration for velvet in all its incarnations. And of course, because it is the season, I must find something red.

While I am trying to select a few things, I see a rather handsome young thing nearby. He looks over everything with interest, and I wonder why he is in the women's department. Perhaps he is shopping for his mother or some other female person. I assume he isn't shopping for a female companion because that would ruin my day. Or if he is with someone, he had better be in a polyamorous relationship, because I want to enjoy looking at him without feeling guilty.

Anyway, I have decided that today I will approach at least one person I don't know and make a friend. I may or may not have made that decision just seconds ago when Mr. Hunky Perfect made all the blood rush to my nether regions. Quickly I stash any potentially unsexy clothing between the racks I've been perusing and move closer to the object of my attraction.

"Hi. You don't know me, but I hope you'd like to."

I wait nervously to see if he likes my cheesy, ridiculous pick-up line. He smiles, which is a good sign. He nods.

"Maybe."

We make with the small-talk, and from this I learn that he is actually shopping for himself. A cross-dresser, perhaps?

"Oh, not at all," he says. "But the cut for clothing is not always gendered. Sometimes things that fit guys end up in the women's department, and sometimes stuff fit for women ends up in the guy's. It is great, too, because I like colors and fabrics that they don't use for men's clothes."

"Hmmm...and I like some things that are comfortable, which I only find in the men's." I smile up at him. "Well, that makes sense."

Ah, blissful exchange of clothing love! I think we'll get along fabulously. And I have decided that he thinks so too. And if he doesn't, then at the very least I think we can get our pants together for a brief exchange before he really decides to end this fabulous beginning.

We end up talking awhile more before I get my bright idea.

"Do you want to have sex?"

His eyes open wide at the unexpected suggestion. Thankfully, he says yes. I am glad that I asked him; women being asked by men in public if they want to have sex is such a risky proposition. It is a very, very bad idea, and I would hate it if a man asked me, even if I were in the mood. This is because so many men come across as creepy (Even without meaning to), and so I have to think of fleeing rather than evaluating whether or not I want to have wild and happy sex with a stranger. And then there are the complaints when I say no.

Ahhh, but when a woman asks a man, it is a different proposition, and so I enjoy initiating this question with nice men. I think of it as a reward for their being awesome. I lead Mr. Awesome to the changing rooms to collect his gift. I explain to the woman that we are husband and wife, and I need to help him with a few things. She accepts this, though I am certain she has her misgivings. I don't care, though, because I know for a fact that the men's dressing room is almost never used, and so we will not risk being interrupted. Not if we don't take too long, anyway.

I enter first, full of excitement. He seems to be a bit nervous, so I give him a good rubdown to help eradicate his concern. His eyes glaze over with desire, and so now I know it is the right time. I undo the fastenings on his pants to signal that he should get ready. As for me, I take off everything and put on the velvet shirt.

He puts his hands on my hips, enjoying the feel of them. I catch him a kiss, letting him explore my body with his hands. It is hard to keep from making happy little noises, but the threat of getting kicked out from the store is certainly enough to keep me quiet. He carries on the foreplay a little long for my taste, so I get closer to him. I rub my crotch against his cock, helping it to stiffen all the way. While he is busy playing with my breasts, an activity I don't much care for but certainly don't mind when it gets my intended fuck all hot and bothered, I slip my hand between us to clutch his balls. I grope them, squeezing and manipulating them with vigor. I draw his tongue into my mouth and suck on it as a promise of what another bodily organ can experience shortly.

He grasps my hips with purpose and tries to bend me over. I have another plan for this man, however. I pull away and put a finger to his lips as a signal to be quiet and do as I suggest. I lean close to his ear and whisper "deepthroat." He nods enthusiastically at the idea. Surely he didn't expect in his wildest dreams to be propositioned by a stranger not only for sex, but for deep-throating. I wanted it, however.

I whisper again. "Give me a minute to get used to you, then fuck me as hard as you can, until your cum is down my throat and you feel satisfied." I squeeze his cock for emphasis, receiving another nod in response. Before doing anything else, I reach into the pocket of my pants and pull out a green, unflavored condom. (We are strangers, after all.) I kiss him and undulate against him as I roll it on, hoping to make the experience less sanitary so that he doesn't mind having to wear it.

I lay down across the bench and reach into the pocket of my pants, which are now on the floor. He kneels over me with his bold erection, waiting expectantly. I open my mouth, sticking my tongue out just a little to entice him. My hips move up and down, and I feel blazingly hot in my velvet shirt. He finally takes the plunge, slipping his cock into my mouth. He seems nervous at first, probably hoping not to offend me. I grab his hips, however, and pull him forward. He plunges deeper next time. I tug him forward again and again, until he finally buries all of his 8 inches into me. He stays that way for a moment, making me gag on it.

"Are you ready?" he asks in a quiet voice. Having no other way to answer, I get my hand in his line of vision and show him a 'thumbs up.' This man turns out to be more of a power horse than I had anticipated, and for a moment I question my rash decision to have him fuck something so near my delicate trachea. I soon enough get used to it, though, and enjoy the rough ride.

He slips his fingers below the shirt, feeling up my skin as he pounds against me. I want to gasp as he slides a hand along my thigh, bringing it slowly closer to my cunt. He doesn't manage to find the magic spot where my clit is hiding, but his touches are wonderful anyway. My wetness has covered my labia, and also made its way down my ass, leaving me comfortably damp. Two fingers slip in me while his thumb rubs against my clit. His balls lay against my face as he rests his cock completely in my throat. The walls of my cunt tighten, my hips lifting off the bench as he draws me nearer to orgasm. I ride his hand while he whispers encouraging things to me.

"That's it baby, suck it. Suck that cock and suck my fingers with your cunt."

He curves his fingers to hit my g-spot, which drives me wild. I reach for his arm, just wanting to hold it while I experience this pleasure. He begins to make some minimal thrusts to my throat again, moving very slowly.

"Squeeze my arm when you're about to cum," he says. I like the forcefulness in his voice. I've been the bold one so far, and now here he is, fucking me mercilessly and telling me what to do. He has figured this all out pretty quickly, and I am quite pleased.

I enjoy his fingers awhile more before the rapidly approach of orgasm makes itself known. I squeeze his arm hard, straining not to make any noises. My toes curl with delight. I feel his cock moving again, thrusting much harder this time. Besieged by weird thoughts as I am so close to cumming, I fondle his balls again, enjoying their tightness. He wasn't expecting this, and the touches throw off his plans. He shoves himself hard into my throat as the cum shoots into it. I continue to squeeze until he has nothing left to give.

Now that he is freed from bodily needs he withdraws from my mouth. I almost give in to my desire to moan. He saves me from this by plunking his balls into my mouth again - an impromptu gag. I grip his legs with my hands as he works me over now with both hands, making the smooth movements over my clit more accurate and wonderful. I can feel the shape of his fingers inside me as I reach my ecstacy, which are still curved in that delightful way. I suck mindlessly on his balls until the pleasure runs its course, at which point I lay back exhausted.

A few minutes later, we decide to buy everything we took back to try on, not knowing whether it fits. But that doesn't matter. We thank the fitting room attendant for her understanding before heading to the cashier.

It has been a few weeks since I had my lovely encounter in the clothing store. Pickings of men have been rather slim this holiday season, and I find myself longing for another go while I put the finishing touches on my tree. All the gifts have been sent out. I attended a few parties with friends earlier in the week, and thankfully excused myself from any other events on the 24th and 25th. With the beautiful snow outside and my nice warm apartment all neatly decorated, smelling of spice and apples and tasty breads, I can think of nothing I'd rather do than spend the holidays right here.

Except, of course, to spend them with someone else. I sit on my couch with the velvet shirt I bought that day, and a pleated black mini-skirt. As I don't have to be anywhere else and will most likely make the most of my fireplace and lonesome evening by masturbating, I hadn't bother with underwear.

A knock on the door saves me from putting on 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Mr. Hunky Wonderful himself is at the door, dressed in a skin-tight velvet Santa suit. I grin as he practices his hearty laughter.

"And what are you doing here?"

"We have a few friends in common, and I was talking to them about how I wanted to see more of you. So they told me to visit you here."

I invite him in quite happily and gesture for him to sit. I make myself busy in the kitchen, pouring two glass flutes of mulled cider. I put these on a tray with some cookies and a bowl of a warm chocolate glaze to dip them in. Once these are all set, I bring them to a table near the chair.

"You know," I begin, "It isn't normally a good idea to just come to someone's home like this without warning. But I really like you. You made me feel so good."

He smiles. "You make me feel good too." He pats his stomach, which is not at all ample like Santa's should be, and speaks in a big, deep voice. "Now come here, little girl, and sit on Santa's lap."

When those lovely uncut 8 inches are revealed again, complete with a condom he must have put on just outside my door, I squeal with delight. My cunt wraps around his member with ease, as I had already been superbly horny before. We fuck joyously in as many positions as we can think of, desecrating many holiday traditions in the process, sometimes shouting out the lyrics to various carols when we feel caught in the mood. Our glorious sexings happen on and off for the remaining six hours of the night, interspersed with classic holiday films and the eating of high-energy cookies and other sugary foods.

After a good hot bath together, he falls asleep quickly in my bed. Once I am certain that he is asleep, I disappear into the kitchen. I quickly find some ribbon and a sprig of mistletoe. When I crawl back into bed, I delicately wrap the ribbon around his cock, tucking the mistletoe into the pretty bow. I settle down to sleep, pleased that he has no idea what a phenomenal 'kiss' he'll receive in the morning.