It’s the last day of Blissemas 2014, that seasonal celebration of all things smutty and snog-worthy, and I’m joining in with an excerpt from Christmas Lights, my story in the Xcite Chills and Thrills mini-anthology. Andy is trying to persuade his friend Trent to join in the neighbourhood ritual of decorating the outside of his house for the holiday season but Trent has discovered a better use for a string of Christmas lights. Warning – this one is hot!
Too fast for me to react, he pinned both of my wrists together above my head, and started winding the cord of the lights around them, before tying it off. He hadn’t fastened the knot too tight, and I reckoned if I really wanted to, I might be able to wriggle free of my bonds, but I found I didn’t want to. As I lay on Trent’s lawn, tied up with Christmas lights and awaiting his next move, my cock was as hard as it had ever been. When he reached for the zipper of my pants and undid it, hauling them and my shorts down in the same movement, I made a half-hearted protest.
‘Hey, man, what if someone sees us?’
‘Relax, my truck’s blocking the view from the road …’
And what if someone does see you? a little voice asked in the back of my mind. Doesn’t it just add to the thrill of being out in public, half-naked and about to let your horny neighbour do whatever he wants to you? In Montana, outdoor sex was reserved only for the high days of summer; there was no way I’d think of even venturing outside in December without dressing in a thick coat, scarf and gloves. Maybe Christmas in this part of the country had some compensating factors, after all.
Trent wrapped his fingers around my shaft, holding it steady, then bobbed his head down, engulfing me in the slick furnace of his mouth. For a moment I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, just butted the head of my dick up against his palate, blindly seeking release.
He released his grip, and withdrew his mouth with a chuckle. ‘Hey, slow down. This isn’t a race, you know.’
I mumbled something about it having been a while, the words trailing off as he took an alternative tack, licking up and down my length with smooth, languorous strokes.
‘Oh, that’s good.’ I sighed, no longer trying to force the pace, just happy to let Trent use his mouth to give me pleasure.
His tongue made its wet, slithery way along the seam between my balls, over my taint, and lapped for just the briefest moment at my arsehole. Trying my best not to lose my load, I thought of all the work I’d have to do when I got in the house just to meet the deadline on my article, never mind doing something about the quart of ice cream that was very likely melting in the trunk of my car right at this moment. It didn’t help; I couldn’t dream up anything boring and mundane enough to distract me from the sensations Trent’s wickedly licking tongue was creating in my groin.
You can read the rest of the action in Chills and Thrills, which also features stories by Lynn Lake, Celia Montgomery, Sam Stewart and Marlene Yong, and don’t forget to check out all the other snowy snogs at Blissemas.