RIDE ME UNTIL I’M RUINED (COLLECTION OF EROTIC STORIES)

002

Sandra set the frosted bottle on the counter and started twisting the corkscrew in. She wasn’t strong. Didn’t get it deep enough before it fought her and she quit. She clamped the metal arms down around the rim and pulled. Nothing. Cork didn’t even twitch.

She tucked the bottle under her arm and pinched it there, right against her tit, trying to get some leverage. Soft breast mashed around the cold glass. Still wouldn’t budge.

“I’m no good at this.” She giggled and handed it over.

Edward took it. Condensation off the bottle had soaked a patch of that thin white shirt, turned it almost see-through. The cold had her n****e standing up hard under the wet cotton, a tight little peak he could see the color of. He tried not to stare. Failed. If she caught him looking, she didn’t do a thing about it. Didn’t cover up. Just let him look.

“When are you going to decorate your tree?” she asked while he poured them each a full glass.

“I don’t think I will.”

“Why not? Got decorations?”

They walked into the front room. Edward pointed at the boxes marked XMAS STUFF sitting next to his CD player.

“Yeah. Lots of stuff. I just can’t get that holiday spirit going.”

“Aw, come on. You should decorate it. I can help.”

“What about Jacob? Your boyfriend?”

“He’s gone. Left last week. Went home to Florida to stay with his parents.”

Edward lit up like a kid who’d just been told school was canceled. Boyfriend hundreds of miles away. Just her. Just him.

“Well. Maybe we can have some fun with it. Might be just the thing.”

“I know just the thing to get us in the mood.” She got animated all of a sudden, that energy coming off her. “Why don’t you find some Christmas music. I’ll be right back.”

And she was out the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

Edward took a big swallow of wine. Holidays were looking a lot better. Season of joy and all that. Possibilities, even if it was only for a few hours. He had no idea how filthy-joyful the night was about to get.

He didn’t waste the time she was upstairs. Opened the boxes. Dug through his little collection. One box of small electric lights. Two more with ornaments and those cheap table knickknacks. Finished his glass. Poured another.

When his door opened again, he just stood there.

“Ho ho ho… what do you think?”

She’d changed. Sexiest Santa he’d ever seen in his life. Just the oversized red top. That was it. Fluffy white trim floating right under her ass, framing those long legs. Black sheer stockings. Shiny black latex boots. Bright red lipstick to match the suit.

He could see the shape of her thighs through the sheer, the way the shirt hem kept threatening to ride up if she so much as breathed wrong. Nothing covering her from the trim down except stockings and those wet-look boots. He wanted to get on his knees and find out if she had anything under that shirt.

Sack in her hand. It looked full.

“Wow. Wow. You look great.” That was all he managed while she spun for him. The hem lifted a little on the turn. He caught a flash of the underside of her ass and his c**k jumped in his sweats.

“I couldn’t do the pants. They kept falling down.”

He liked that. Liked her saying it. Liked picturing them sliding off her hips.

She shoved the sack at him and broke his stare off her legs.

“Here. Your turn.”

Another Santa suit inside.

“Put it on.”

Modesty hit him all of a sudden. He took the sack into the bedroom and dumped the suit on his green bedspread. Whole room looked festive with that red on green. He was into it now. Wine helping. Holiday spirit finally showing up — mostly in his d**k.

He didn’t bother shutting the door. Pulled off the sweatshirt. Stepped out of the sweatpants. Stood there in tiny white briefs, c**k already thick against the cotton, while he unbuttoned the Santa top.

Short hallway from the kitchen to the bedroom. Sandra went to pour herself more wine and had a clean view of his back. She watched. Firm ass in those tight little briefs. Hamstrings cut down the back of his thighs. Then the Santa shirt dropped and ruined it.

He stepped into the pants and yanked them up. Way too big in the waist. There was a belt, but he’d have to wrap it around twice for it to do anything.

Sandra came up behind him with her glass.

“Oh my.” She laughed. “Those pants fit almost as bad as they did on me.”

He turned around.

“At least they aren’t too long.”

Then she got an idea. Reached for a pillow.

“Here. Pull your pants out.”

He froze a second. Pulling the front of those pants out meant she’d have a straight look at his underwear. At the bulge. At how hard he already was just from her standing there in that shirt and those stockings.