I Blame The Mistletoe

It was Christmas time, and that meant the usual office parties. But I was wrapped up in bed, miserable coughing, sneezing, and generally feeling sorry for myself.

Nix and I had been married for ten years now. I couldn't have been luckier; not only was she gorgeous, but she was also smart and funny.

Nix worked for the NHS, and every year they held a party. We'd gone together in the past, but this year, I was out of commission with a serious case of man flu.

I insisted that Nix go. I didn't want my cold to stop her from enjoying a few drinks with her colleagues.

Nix wasn't keen on going alone, but I reassured her, reminding her that she always ended up having fun once she was there.

As it happened, one of her colleagues, Jennie, was also attending the party alone, so they agreed to go together.

Jennie didn't drink and offered to drive, which made things much easier.

On the evening of the party, I lay on the bed, sipping my Lemsip and watching TV while Nix got ready. I could hear her singing Christmas as songs in the shower.

When she finished, she sauntered into the room, wrapped in a white, fluffy towel. At 35, she still had an incredible figure her E-cup breasts and curves never failed to drive me wild.

Our sex life had always been good consistent and satisfying. Over the years, we'd experimented with different things to keep the spark alive. But recently, I'd discovered a new kink: hot wife's. We'd only lightly touched on the topic, but it had been playing on my mind ever since.

Nix stood in her dressing room, staring at the clothes hanging neatly before her.

"What do you think I should wear?" she asked, glancing back at me.

"Clothes," I teased with a grin, my voice slightly hoarse from the cold. Pausing for effect, "Or your little black number. You always look incredible in it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? It's a bit old, isn't it?"

"It maybe Old ... but you look hot in it.

She pulled the dress off the rail and held it against her body, letting out a small sigh of defeat before tossing it onto the bed. Reaching into her drawer for a bra, she hesitated.

I couldn't help myself. "Forget the bra. With those tits, you don't need one."

She turned to glare at me, a mix of amusement and mock scandal in her expression. "I can't go out like this! People will think I'm trying to make a statement."

"Let them.

They can look but not touch,

" I said with a grin. "Besides, you know I think it's hot when guys want you but can't have you."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "You and your kinks," under her breath,

I watched as she slipped into the black dress, smoothing it down over her hips. It hugged her body perfectly, showing just enough to tease without crossing the line into slutty.

"Can you help me?" she asked, turning her back to me.

I struggled out of bed, fumbling with the clasp of her dress behind her neck. I also fastened her necklace a long pendant of cut crystal, surrounded by smaller stones. It caught the light beautifully as it nestled just between her cleavage.

"Damn, if I wasn't sick, I'd--"

Cutting me off, she laughed, twirling playfully before sitting on the edge of the bed.

She slowly stretched a pair of black hold-up stockings over her long legs, taking her time as the silky fabric smoothed against her skin, completing the outfit with effortless grace.

With her makeup done long lashes and a full smoky eye she looked stunning. Hearing Jennie's car pull up outside, Nix grabbed her phone seeing the text to confirm.

"She's here,"

she exclaimed, snatching her purse and keys off the side table. Blowing me a kiss, "Bye, hun! Try not to over dose on the lemsip"

she called. before she disappeared through the door.

Outside, in her Mercedes, Jennie hit the synchronised locking. Nix pulled open the door and slid in.

"Hi, Nix. Wow, you're looking quite the hot wife! Does his lordship know you're going out like that?" Jennie quipped, knowing full well I was stuck at home ill.

Nix snapped, "Don't you start," but grinned sheepishly, still unsure about the dress. Then they were off to the venue.

This year's Christmas do. was bigger than usual some sort of anniversary celebration. Instead of separate department parties, the NHS brass had combined them into one large event. That meant more people to socialise with: some you knew and didn't mind talking to, others you didn't know, and a few you'd rather avoid.

As they entered the hotel, Nix and Jennie made their way to the ballroom, where the health secretary, equally important businessmen, and the NHS's who's who stood greeting guests, their spouses in tow.

The maître d', dressed in an elegant cocktail dress, greeted guests with a warm smile and gestured towards a sleek touchscreen kiosk.

"Please enter your NHS number," she instructed. "The system will assign your table for the evening. Oh, and don't forget, your NHS number also serves as your raffle number there are some fantastic prizes!"

Nix tapped in her number, the screen lighting up to reveal Table 3. Jennie followed, entering her details, and was assigned Table 12.

Jennie glanced at Nix with a slightly disappointed look but quickly shrugged it off with a smile. Grabbing a glass of champagne from the nearest server.

"Guess we'll catch up during the raffle," she said with a playful wink before heading off towards her table.

Inside, a massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, adorned with sparkling lights and ornaments. Freshly cut holly and mistletoe hung elegantly from the chandeliers.

Tables were dressed with festive wreaths, Christmas crackers, and balloon decorations shaped like baubles.

A buffet awaited its unveiling, the food still to be served, while a string quartet filled the room with cheerful festive tunes.

Within about 15 minutes of us arriving,, most of the guests had arrived, and the health secretary gave a brief welcoming speech. The Dean then invited everyone to join their assigned tables and enjoy the festivities.

Champagne in hand Nix wandered over to Table 3, which was positioned near the front. After grabbing a plate for the starter she chose traditional prawn cocktail with freshly baked brown bread and plenty of Mary Rose sauce she returned to find a young doctor she knew called Connor already sat adjacent from her.

Connor, was the stereotypical young good looking, amazing physique upper-class toff not yet a gentlemen.

He was Still somewhat obnoxious but he was a naturally talented junior doctor.

also the Dean's Son. he flashed her a smile as she sat down.

Instantly, Nix became aware of how revealing her dress might appear under certain lights. While she knew it wasn't as bad as she feared she didn't want to give someone like Connor the wrong idea, she noticed his gaze lingering a moment too long on her necklace or where it rested.

Her husband's words echoed in her mind:

"They can look but not touch."

Despite this reassurance, she felt a flicker of discomfort at the thought of Connor possibly catching more of a glimpse than he should.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a waiter offering wine. "Red or white?" he asked.

"White, please," she replied, and he poured a generous amount into her glass.

As the meal progressed, the tablemates introduced themselves. Nix knew one guests Syrah from her department and felt a little more at ease chatting with her. They discussed the odd seating arrangement, Syrah commented, " Its strange to separate us like this, but I suppose it forces us to mingle more."

"I agree," Nix replied. "It's a bit awkward at first, though."

The woman glanced to my side. "Where's your husband tonight? Is he here?"

"No, he's at home. He's not feeling well,".

Finishing my starter, I grabbed a new plate and made my way to the carvery section. A young chef in a crisp white uniform, his precision reminiscent of my husband's skills, carved slices of goose, The adjacent chef offered me a slice of ham. some seasonal Jus and cranberry and I was done.

I was helping myself to some the vegetables & roast potatoes when Connor appeared beside me.

"So, your husband's not with you tonight?" he asked casually, his tone light but deliberate.

"No he's not".

I offered a polite smile, trying to keep the conversation brief.

"Sorry, Nix," he continued, his voice softening. "I'm just so used to seeing you in scrubs I had no idea you were such a stunner."

He's at home waiting for me " I replied, keeping my tone polite but hoping to cut the conversation short.

Still It was flattering to feel noticed, even though I suspected this was just his standard chat-up line. I doubted he meant a word of it.

Sensing my discomfort, Connor shifted his approach slightly.

His smile was warm and reassuring as he added, "Are you finished here, or do you need another roast potato?"

"I'm done, thanks. I don't need to fight off any more calories than necessary this time of year," I said with a light laugh.

We made our way back to the table and resumed our meal. The servers were attentively topping up our wine glasses.

I lost track of how much I'd had two or three glasses, maybe but they went down easily. By the end of the main course, I was feeling a little tipsy and had definitely started to relax.

Connor kept up a continuous stream of conversation throughout the meal. Most of it was directed at me, but, fortunately, he had backed off from being overly flirty.

Instead, we talked about our respective likes, dislikes interests, hobbies, and travel. It turns out his dad has managed to pull some strings for him and he was off to Australia in the New Year. So he wouldn't be back at work.

As the meal drew to a close, A band came on, transitioning from gentle festive songs to a livelier, more party-like atmosphere.

The singer invited people to the dance floor. I remained seated, watching somewhat wistfully as couples danced together.

Jennie came over from her table, grabbed my hand, and suggested we dance together. Now, I'm not the world's greatest dancer, but i can shake it when needed and do a mean Macarena,or ketchup song, we danced through a few upbeat songs.

The mix of champagne, wine, and the festive atmosphere had left me feeling relaxed, even a little provocative. Jennie and I were swaying to the music when a voice over the microphone announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the NHS charity raffle! Get your numbers ready!"

Jennie gasped, pulling her badge from her purse. "Come on, let's see if we're lucky!" she said, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the stage where the raffle was taking place.

We joined the crowd as the numbers were called out. A ripple of excitement ran through the room as winners were announced and went on stage to receive their prize, though neither of us claimed a prize. Jennie shrugged and laughed. "Oh well, worth a shot!"

As the raffle wrapped up, Jennie spotted a familiar face near her table and wandered off to chat. I lingered for a moment, considering my next move, when Connor appeared beside me again.

"No luck for me, I take it you Didn't win, either huh?"

he said, a teasing edge to his voice.

"Nope," I replied with a small smile.

"Well," he said, extending a hand toward me, "how about a dance instead?

No lucky ticket required."

I hesitated, glancing briefly at Jennie, who was now deep in conversation. It was just a dance, I reasoned harmless enough.

"Alright," I said, as he grabbed my wrist.

His grin widened as I led him to the dance floor. The music was upbeat, and our movements were lighthearted, playful, and far from intimate. Yet, there was something about his presence that made the moment linger in my mind.

We danced a few more songs together. The music was loud, so we didn't talk much, but I began to think that maybe Connor wasn't as much of a Dick as I'd first assumed.

Eventually, I felt a little tired and my feet where wornout and gestured that I needed to return to the table.

"I'll get us some drinks," Connor offered. Before I could decline, he disappeared into the crowd.

Our table was mostly empty when I returned. Most people were either outside smoking, still dancing, or chatting elsewhere. A few minutes later, Connor returned, holding two glasses.

"Old Fashioned," he said, handing me one.

Normally, I'd have asked for a soft drink or sparkling water something light but it was kind of him to bring me a drink, so I accepted without complaint.

We clinked glasses, and I sipped it was Made well with Woodford reserve I observed to Connor yes he said I heard you mention you like these earlier so I presumed it would be ok.

Very observant, I thought.

"Still having fun?" he asked.

"Yes, very much," I replied, "It's been nicer than I expected."

Connor's conversation grew more engaging, but as he leaned in to talk over the music, his hand rested on my knee. Alarm bells rang in my mind, but I rationalised that it was innocent enough.

The drink went down easily, and Connor soon offered to fetch another. The second round of old fashions only added to the haze of the evening.

Somewhere in my mind, I knew it wasn't a good idea, when Connor invited me to dance again, my husband didn't even when present preferring to stand at the bar so I was used to the occasional dance with someone else so I didn't protest

We danced to a few more tracks before the music slowed, the lights dimming slightly. Connor pulled me closer, and I felt the warmth of his body

I glanced up at the mistletoe display hanging from the chandelier above us. As I looked down, his lips met mine.

Shock jolted through me, and I instinctively tried to pull away, but Connor's hands tightened around my waist, holding me firmly.

"No, Connor! I'm married," I said, my voice faltering as I attempted to sound resolute.

"It's just a Christmas kiss," he whispered, his voice soft but insistent. "What's mistletoe for, if not for sharing a kiss?"

The alcohol softened my edges, leaving me caught somewhere between irritation and a faint, unbidden curiosity. I froze, momentarily unsure of how to react. Before I could gather my thoughts, his lips brushed mine again gentler this time, as though testing my boundaries.

I turned my head slightly, ready to stop him, but instead of pushing him away, I found myself hesitating.

"Connor, we shouldn't..." I murmured, but the words lacked conviction.

His lips returned to mine, this time with more certainty. His hands traced a path up my back, pulling me closer until my breasts pressed against his chest the fabric of my dress rubbing against my nipples, which had begun to harden.

And then I kissed him back.

My head spun, each flick of his tongue stoking a fire inside me. The music around us faded into the background, replaced by the erratic beat of my heart. His arms tightened around me, and I could feel something hardening in his trousers, pressing against me.

"Damn, he's a good kisser, I thought, my body betraying my better judgment.

"Connor, we really can't..." I said, even as my fingers curled into his shirt, clutching him closer. The dampness in my knickers spread as we clung to each other, like reckless teenagers at a school dance.

His touch grew bolder, one hand squeezing my backside while his growing arousal pressed firmly against my stomach. My pulse quickened. I should stop this, but I didn't.

Moments later, his hand slid into mine, and before I could think, he was guiding me off the dance floor.

I cast a furtive glance around the room, my stomach twisting at the thought of someone noticing us.

We slipped through a side door into a dimly lit area behind the main function room.

The faint glow of emergency exit signs barely lit the space, while the muffled sounds of the party continued on the other side of the partition.

Connor pressed me gently against the wall, his lips finding mine again. My resolve faltered completely as my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands began to roam, one slipping beneath the hem of my dress. His fingers grazed my thigh before pressing against my soaked knickers.

His other hand found its way to my breast, cupping and massaging it through my dress. His fingers teased my nipple until it was painfully erect.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as his fingers explored further, pushing the fabric aside. My back arched against the wall as a rush of heat spread through me. Connor's mouth moved to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin while his fingers worked me expertly.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders. Torn between wanting more and wanting to stop, I murmured, "Connor, someone might come..."

"They won't," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

My protests faded as the warmth of his hands and the insistent press of his body overwhelmed me. My head fell back against the wall as his hardness rubbed against my thigh.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone it sent a fresh wave of panic and excitement through me.

"Connor, no... we shouldn't--"

But the words melted away as he lifted me effortlessly, positioning me against the wall. My legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed my knickers aside.

I felt the head of his cock rub up and down the lips of my pussy, spreading them teasing me with what I was about to find out was a big cock.

A strangled gasp escaped me as he pressed into me, filling me in one smooth, deliberate thrust. He stretched me in a way that left me breathless.

The haze of alcohol and lust clouded my judgment as we moved together. Every rational thought screamed at me to stop, but my body refused to listen. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through me, and I instinctively matched his rhythm.

"Oh my God," I whispered, the words escaping me as the pleasure built to a crescendo. My climax came unexpectedly, crashing over me like a wave, leaving me trembling and gasping for air. My pussy clenched around him, milking his cock as he groaned deeply, his pace quickening.

"Connor, please... pull out," I gasped, panic briefly cutting through the haze. But it was too late. His body stiffened, and I felt the unmistakable pulsing of his release. Heat flooded me as he came, jet after jet filling me.

He held me against the wall for a moment, both of us panting and trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Slowly, he lowered me to my feet. His cock slipped out of me, and a trickle of his cum seeped out, soaking into my already wet knickers.

I stood there in a daze, my dress rucked up around my waist, my legs trembling beneath me.

"Damn, you're an amazing fuck," Connor murmured, his voice cutting through the haze of my spinning thoughts.

"Maybe I was lucky and won a prize after all."

He steadied me as I struggled to find my balance, my mind racing while my body hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly, his tone unexpectedly tender.

I let him guide me out of the room using a alternative door, and into an adjacent corridor. Each step reminded me of the sticky evidence of our encounter. Cum seeped out of me, soaking my knickers further.

Connor was staying at the hotel, and as we stepped into the lift alongside a few strangers, I silently prayed no one I knew would see me or worse, join us on the way up. I hoped the other hotel guests in the lift couldn't sense the sexual tension radiating off me or smell the unmistakable scent of sex clinging to our bodies.

Connor's arm stayed around me protectively, his hand resting on my waist.

When the lift stopped at his floor, his hand rested possessively on my hip, then slid lower to cup my buttock as he steered me down a short hallway toward his hotel room.

He opened the door with a confidents giving my arse a firm slap, making me gasp softly as I stepped inside. He followed close behind, shutting the door quietly but deliberately.