I’m now in my bra and panties as I peel off the stockings, moving slowly and approaching him. I loop one of the stockings around his neck, drawing him toward me. He reaches to touch, and I slap his hand lightly. “No touching, Daddy.”
Letting go of the stocking, I circle around the chair. My fingers move in an Egyptian fashion, and I stroke his shoulders, the back of his neck, and let my fingers run through his hair. My breasts peak and brush against his ear and the side of his face, but when his mouth reaches for my nipple, I slide back and turn in a circle, showing him my buttocks.
Oh, I know I’m driving him nuts, but that’s the goal, isn’t it? He’s going to be so amped up with nowhere to go—but away from here before Brittney and Ben arrive the day after Christmas—and check us into the closest motel.
I do a shoulder roll and approach him again, then back up, bouncing my breasts. Walking up to the chair, I twerk my hips toward him, letting my crotch circle right above his lap. I dip and lower myself, not touching him, then strut away and let him see my backside.
Swaying back and forth, and up and down, I back up to him so that I’m hovering right above his lap. I’m sure he’s begging me to sit on it, pleading, wishing, and I expect him to reach out and grab.
Looking at him over my shoulder, I shake my head. “Nuh, uh, uh, no touching.”
He swallows a boatload of drool, clearing his throat and groaning. His hand jerks over his erection, but when he catches me looking, he shoves it underneath his thigh.
Smiling, I do circular hip thrusts and bounce up and down, closer and closer to rubbing against him. I don’t know how much more he can stand, and he’s at the breaking point.
Strong fingers grip my hips and whip me around to face him, and I land, straddling the huge Anaconda python stressing the cloth of his pants.
Our mouths crash together, and our lips lock. My thighs squeeze his hips and my wet, engorged pussy dances over his thick meat. How I want it deep inside. How I yearn for it and crave it. My gyrations get hotter and faster and rougher, and I shudder at the zing of passion shooting between our bodies.
Braden’s breathing is harsh, and his grip tightens, pressing me harder against him. The ridge of his arousal is like a thick and long dildo. Sparks sizzle between us from the erotic and frantic friction.
Zigzags of light like fireworks flash in front of my eyes, and my toes curl in the elf boots. My climax rockets my heartbeat up to the stratosphere, and Braden’s entire body jerks and heaves underneath me.
He gasps and groans, holding me tight against the insistent rapping on the door. The knob jiggles, and I jump off Braden’s lap in mid-flight. My orgasm crashes down to the earth, mushrooming like a nuclear explosion. I fling myself at the dress hanging on the bunk bed.
Jolene opens the door. “I’ve been calling you two for the Yule log lighting. Did you not hear the intercom?”
She goes to the dial and fiddles with it.
I don’t know what Braden’s doing to cover up the stain that’s no doubt wetting his pants, but by some miracle, I’ve somehow slipped the dress over my shoulders.
Calmly turning my back at Jolene, I say, “Can you zip me? Daddy’s not used to helping me dress.”
