This story represents both my first foray into writing spicy stories and also first ever publication to Literotica. Hopefully one of many.
As this story is also Christmas themed, I am submitting it to the
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023
. If you like what you read, or else want to support an author just getting their start, please vote. Your help would be greatly appreciated!
If you have constructive feedback on how this story could be better, or how I could improve as writer, please feel free to comment or else send me a direct message.
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Summary
On Christmas morning, Matt awakens to find is scantily-clad step-daughter in the kitchen preparing a delightful treat for his consumption.
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Christmas morning brought with it the warm aroma of yeast to awaken Matt from sleep. He pushed back the covers and sat up slowly, squinting against the sunlight. As his bare feet touched the floor, he ran rough hands over an angular face, fingertips lightly brushed the two-days of stubble shading his chin and steep cheekbones. He sat listening to the familiar creaks and groans of the house, the restless switching of the wind across the rooftop, and allowed himself a shiver as the cold settled onto him. A chill reminder that the heating system was long overdue for maintenance.
Matt inhaled deeply and discovered that the smell of yeast had not faded in the slightest. It was not the remnants of his dream, he decided. If anything, the smell was even stronger now. It was as though someone was baking bread in his kitchen. In a house where Matt was the sole occupant.
A lengthy divorce process had left Matt with very little in the way of company. After accusing him of cheating, his ex-wife had packed up the majority of her things six months prior and vacated the premises. Neither was Matt such an avid socialite to have friends calling unannounced. Certainly none of his bar pals or faculty coworkers merited a key. He was certain he had changed the locks after Linda left.
So, who would be in his house at this early hour?
He reached over to check his cell. The smart phone lit up at his touch, informing in a stark digital readout that it was eight-twenty on Christmas morning. Neither did he have any new messages or notifications. He dropped the phone back to the nightstand with a clatter.
Matt grunted and stood up, careful to avoid creaking the wooden floor boards. Not easy for a man of his height and build. Once he had played football for his college team and he had never quite shaken the weight lifting routines and fitness mindset. It also helped that he worked as a coach for the university's football team and was surrounded all day by health nuts and meat heads. Consequentially Matt was still built like a wide receiver. His broad shoulders and wide chest filled out the gray tank-top he wore, lightly fraying at the seams. His bare biceps were all tight, swollen muscle. His thighs were even thicker, straining his boxers to the limit of their flexibility.
Despite his size, when Matt rounded the bedroom he was all grace and explosive potential. A leopard roused for the hunt. He slipped out into the hall, wincing once as the floor groaned beneath his foot. What was he expecting to find exactly? It wasn't as though burglars broke into people's houses in the early morning to bake bread. Although Matt supposed stranger things had happened. He eased his way down the stairs and the yeasty smell only intensified as he neared the source. Another whiff spoke of an undercurrent of sugary sweetness and... was that cinnamon?
Matt stepped warily off of the stairs, skipping the bottom step, which had a tendency to whine exponentially when pressure was applied. He froze outside the kitchen as a sound drifted out from behind the swinging door. A soft feminine voice reached him in the tones of a melody. He tilted his head to listen and thought he recognized the voice. He definitely recognized the song, it was "Santa Baby"
Matt pushed through the kitchen door. Whatever he had been expecting to find could not hold a candle to the sight that awaited him on the other side of the door.
Overpowering sugary sweetness assaulted his senses. Matt tried to ignore the grumbled complaints of his stomach and the watering of his mouth. Those senses were overruled by the vision standing before him, like a scene straight out of a Christmas porno.
A beautiful slip of woman was hovering in front of the open oven. Her back was to him, yet he still recognized her curly blonde hair, petite figure, and the sound of her voice as she half-sang, half-hummed the song. The first thing he noticed just how scantily clad she was. Her entire back was bare, through the delicate set of her shoulders to the smooth slope of her waist. She wore a pair of red lace panties that hugged the heart-shaped curve of her ass. The entire outfit was completed by a white apron tied loosely around her waist. The strings swayed back and forth whenever she moved, the knot threatening to come undone.
Matt blinked as the kitchen door lightly struck him in the back on the reverse swing before it flapped closed behind him. As he watched, mouth agape, the girl bent over the oven with her back stretching in a pleasant arch, her ass on full display. Matt's eyes drank in every curve, his boxers growing tighter.
This had to be a dream.
He watched the intruder as she retrieved a tray of cookies from the oven with one mitted hand and placed them on the stove top. She gracefully slid a second sheet of cookie dough into the oven and closed the door with a contented sigh.
Matt spared a glance for the countertops. They were overflowing with a wide assortment of ingredients. Here a carton of eggs lay open to one side of the oven, discarded eggshells piled to the other side stacked on a paper towel. A tall bag of flour sagged into a bag of sugar, ringed by little shakers containing brightly colored sprinkles, chocolate chips, and hard candies. There were even several different kinds of decorating icing. Everywhere the countertops seemed to be smudged with traces of flour dough, and here and there the faint trickle of egg.
Matt's mouth had gone dry, but he somehow managed to clear his throat and speak.
"Emily?"
His step-daughter stiffened and she turned to face him. Her blue eyes were bottomless puddles of azure, her soft pink lips frozen in a smile that slowly shifted from amusement to chagrin. She obviously hadn't expected him to walk in on her so soon. For a moment she looked to Matt like a rabbit about to bolt. The last time he had seen Emily was at least six months earlier when she had told him and Linda, rather abruptly, that she would be taking the summer and the following semester off to travel Europe. That had been before Linda moved out.
He thought she looked different than he remembered--obviously the last time he saw her she hadn't been so... naked. She used to favor her hair with exotic colors, dyed in one vibrant shade or another. A style choice Matt have never liked, but one that Linda had always indulged. Now her dirty golden curls had reclaimed their original color, and gained some length, trailing lightly over her bare shoulders. Matt thought it made her look more natural, and perhaps even mature. She was petite, though she was all luscious curves and lean muscle. Her clothing--rather, the lack of clothing--made that abundantly clear. She was tanned now too, whether from the solar bed or time on the beach Matt could not say--only that he liked the color on her.
She was all curves in motion as she took a hesitant step towards him, her full hips could not fully be blanketed by the swaying apron. Matt realized that the apron was stitched in red with the words "Baby It's Cold Outside" in a decidedly merry holiday font. Her breasts, while not overly large, were full and firm and creased the fabric, forming interesting lines for the eyes to follow. He noticed Emily was also covered copiously in flour up to her forearms, and in some places where the powdery substance smudged her face. She was watching him in kind, her eyes twinkling with delight and perhaps a hint of self-consciousness. When he met her gaze, she did not look away. Her soft lips parted into a rich, white smile.
"Merry Christmas Matt," Emily said, still with a hint of shyness. Her hips swayed as she crossed the tiled kitchen to embrace him. Matt tried not to get pulled into the dirty thoughts that jangled loose inside his skull as her slender figure pushed against him. Her tits were as firm as he remembered, her pelvis pushed up against his groin and made it difficult to ignore the fact that he was already sporting an erection with only thin undergarments to keep them apart. It was too late to conceal that fact now, she was pressing so tightly to him, she had to be aware of his hardness jabbing into her stomach.
