Page 7 of Grumpy Santa

She raises to her knees and peels them off.

I shift our positions so I’m laying back on the couch and she’s still straddling me.

“On my face. Gotta taste you.” I unfasten my jeans to give my dick some breathing room, but I don’t think it’ll help. It feels impossibly hard, like I’ll never not be hard again.

“What?” she asks, her voice unsure.

“Knödel, sit on my face. Now.”

Her knees come up beside my ears. I wrap my arms around her legs, hugging her to my head. God, she smells amazing.

She’s apprehensive as she moves towards me, but I grab her body and slam her pussy down on my mouth, my tongue immediately breaching her tight channel.

Maybe I really am dead because this is fucking heaven. I want this every day for the rest of my life. This woman on my face, riding out her pleasure.

I swirl my tongue up and around her clit and she mewls in response. One of her hands threads through my hair, holding my head in place. Then she rocks herself against me.

“It’s so good, Jared”

My name on her lips sounds like a prayer.

“Your beard. Your lips and tongue. Fuck, even your nose. I’m not going to last,” she says.

“Fucking come in my mouth. I want every last drop. Drown me, Knödel.”

I suck her clit into my mouth.

“Coming,” she moans.

And she does, her orgasm drenching my beard. I lap at her until she collapses down on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close me.

I desperately want to fuck her. To slide inside that hot, wet pussy and pound into her until my balls are drained. But I refuse to ask for that. This was about her pleasure.

Then I feel her hand slide into the front of my boxers and I freeze.

When her fingers brush against my cock, she gasps.

“Oh my,” she says. She leans up and looks down into my face with a crooked little smile. “What have we got here.”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “We don’t need to.”

“Oh we most certainly do,” she says. She stands from my body, then looks down at my tented underwear. “How do you walk around with that thing?”

“It’s not normally like that,” I grit.

“Are you telling me you’re a grower, not a shower? Because that thing is enormous.” Her hands go to my waistband, pulling it up and down. “I’ve got to see it.”

“Yes, my dick, the freak show.” I open my eyes to watch her.

One finger slides against the precum beading on the tip. I hiss through my teeth.

“Not a freak show, big guy. Just a big, gorgeous dick.”

I snort. “Seen a lot of them, have you?”

“Not in the flesh. Just this one. But I’ve watched enough porn.”

“You have?”