A Christmas Present

A Christmas Present
by David Cain

She tore the wrapping paper carefully, aware that the layer of red and green print differed only superficially from the sheaf of papers beneath.

“This is it?” she asked excitedly. “You finished it?” He nodded with a self-indulgent grin.

“Last night, while you were shopping with Tanna.”

She flipped the bulk of pages. Words leapt out from the text, teasing her attention. “Can I read it now?”

“Give me a kiss first,” he answered with a smile. She eagerly met his lips and kissed him deeply. “I’ll pour some coffee,” he said, rising while she flipped to find the first paragraph. She moved to the sofa and nestled under the reading lamp to drink her first sip of prose.

He pulled two ceramic mugs from an oak rack and poured a flow of aromatic dark liquid as steam lifted up to warm his hand. He returned to the living room to find Angie absorbed in the pages he had given her.

Realizing after a moment that she wasn’t going to notice him offering her the mug, he put it down on a cork circle on the table beside her. Angie shifted and sighed. Steven sat down in the green lounge chair and picked up the book his sister had sent him.

He wondered how non-readers picked out the books they give. The back cover promised nothing. He smiled and tried to read the dull but well-meant gift.

Angie shifted again to lay across the sofa. Steven looked up from the novel and watched as she lifted her knees. While her right hand held his manuscript a few inches from her face, her left began to tug at her white cotton nightgown until it slipped over her knees and down her thighs.

He watched raptly as the soft pink of her pussy peeked into view between her lean legs. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as she tousled her light brown muff.

“Mmmm,” Angie purred as she teased her swells and folds. Steven smiled, wondering where she was in his story. A finger dipped between her aroused lips and emerged with a glistening of juices.

“Ooh,” she said emphatically with a quick wet rub. At that, Steven knew exactly where she was. That paragraph had been written especially to light Angie’s fire. She pulled her hand away from her clit for a moment to lift and drop the page to the floor and as quickly found her place again.

Angie’s hips lifted slightly as she played herself and read, thrusting in a slow rhythm as her hand ran knowing circles before stopping to grab a fiery burst of sensation. Steven watched her eyes as they scanned the typescript, pausing at intervals with the glaze of excitement, almost closing before they focused once more to down another draught of his bawdy tale.

“Oh, my God,” she said and closed her eyes, her hand burning furiously over her sopping wet cunt. She plunged two fingers in with reckless excitement and then rubbed doubly hard and fast as her moans welled deep within.

The mass of papers fell chaotically to the floor as Angie lifted her ass high off the sofa as she trembled and thrashed and squealed and teased her thick pink clit through the throes of an explosive orgasm. The foolscap scattered over hardwood as Angie relentlessly came.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she said as she settled back into the cushions, giggling with each remaining convulsive twitch. After a deep sigh, she looked at Steven with a grin.

“How far did you get?” he asked.

“Page three,” she answered dreamily. “Is it all like that?”

“One hundred and twenty pages, all for you,” he answered. “If anything, the story starts slow. Merry Christmas, Angie.” He lifted his coffee in a toast.

“Merry Christmas, Steven,” she seductively, already looking for page four among the scattered sheets below.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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