Naughty Christmas Wishes
© Jennifer Denys
Chapter One
Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair were busy making
love on the couch.
Fay smiled fondly at the sight.
She was the fairy on the top of the Sinclair’s Christmas tree, and she
particularly enjoyed watching her owners have sex in the lounge after the
children went up to bed. It was a tradition they always had after they
decorated the tree each year.
It was one of Fay’s few delights
as she lived vicariously through the Sinclairs, joining in with some actions of
her own—although she had to be careful. One year she masturbated so vigorously
she nearly toppled the tree. The hanging wooden nativity figurines complained afterward that they had felt seasick.
Thankfully, the family blamed
the cat on that occasion. Another year, everyone had been interrupted by carol
singers bursting out with, “Ding Dong Merrily on High.” Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair
had jumped off the couch, with guilt written all over their faces at being
caught having some nooky.
Fay, meanwhile, had been
startled from her position, landing on a shepherd. Thankfully, it wasn’t
Joseph—Mary would have divorced him! Fay and the shepherd managed to finish off
what she had started.
If only the family knew what
their Christmas decorations really got up to!
This year was no different.
“Come and join me, my love,” Mr.
Sinclair had called to his wife as she came down the stairs after putting the
children to bed.
She collapsed on the couch
beside him with a big sigh. “It gets harder each year to get them to go to
sleep—and it’s not even Christmas Eve, yet.”
Her husband chuckled and pulled
her close, tenderly kissing the top of his wife’s head as she snuggled into
him. Fay sighed, feeling envious of their closeness, wishing she had someone to
be intimate with.
“I’ll bring home the surprise
tomorrow and we can finish decorating the tree,” Mr. Sinclair announced.
“Excellent. The children will be
pleased.”
Finish
decorating? What surprise? And what will the kids be
pleased about? Fay was mystified as the tree was stuffed full of
decorations as it was.
They
can’t have brought me a ‘Mr. Fairy.’ Now that would be too much of a
Christmas present. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of receiving such a
gift. Most of the male fairies she was aware of were a bit too effeminate for
her liking. She wanted a hunk, like the dwarves, goblins or elves.
The thought went out of her head
as Mr. Sinclair took that moment to make his move, swiftly turning his wife so
she was underneath him, taking advantage of her surprise to grab her wrists
holding them over her head.
“Got you! You will do exactly
what I tell you to do and any protest will only lead to me flogging you—or some
such thing.”
Fay raised her eyes to the
ceiling at his pretense at dominance. He’d been watching too many films.
Mrs. Sinclair squealed and
giggled. “My, my, Mr. Sinclair. If the children saw us, they will sing more
than ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa.’ It might need to be renamed, maybe, ‘Fifty
Shades of Santa’ or some such title.”
That’s
an idea. Instead of the first day of Christmas being a ‘Partridge in a Pear
Tree’ it could be a ‘Red Bot-tom from a Flog-ger.’
Her husband chuckled at his
wife’s joke, while Fay thought hers was
better. “Only if I tied you to the tree—naked!”
Wow!
That would be great. Fay
really hoped that they would do something like that. She would have a terrific
bird’s-eye view, and she licked her lips in anticipation, hoping they would
really get up from the couch.
Mrs. Sinclair burst out
laughing. “Not a chance. Much too uncomfortable. I’d get pine needles up my
backside.”
Fay sighed in disappointment.
“Okay, I’ll have to have my way
with you right here, then.” Mr. Sinclair placed his lips over his wife’s and began a long, satisfying
kiss, as he moved his mouth seductively on hers.
Well, Fay guessed it was
satisfying, judging by the moans coming from the people on the sofa, and how
Mrs. Sinclair’s legs snaked out from under her husband to wrap around his back.
Fay spread her own legs wide, as
she craned her head around to watch. Not because she wanted to get in on the
action—they had positioned her slightly off center this year and it made it
difficult to see properly.
She made a face. It wasn’t just
because of her viewing angle.
They
are doing it missionary—again.
It was Mr. Sinclair’s favorite
position. They had always done it with him on top whether it was on the sofa,
on the rug or the one time on the table.
Fay continued to watch over her
shoulder as Mr. Sinclair shifted his butt up so his wife could unzip his
trousers before she hurriedly pulled her skirt up. He settled back down pushing
into his wife with practiced ease.
One year Mrs. Sinclair had
pulled her panties off before settling down. Unfortunately, they had forgotten
to take them upstairs and the next day the children wondered why their mother’s
underwear was lying on the floor. Ever since then Fay guessed that Mrs. Sinclair
disposed of her panties in advance.
“Oh, that’s good!” cried Mrs.
Sinclair.
Rolling her eyes to the ceiling
once more, Fay snorted. If it was me, I’d require more variety in our
lovemaking.
Fay’s mind went off on a tangent
then, as she imagined it was Mr. Sinclair and herself on the couch, and she was
the one on top.
A big grin came over her face as
she pictured herself vigorously riding cowboy-style holding Mr. Sinclair’s
hands to the sides of his head. He would shift his butt up, but there was no way
she could be dislodged. In fact, his movements would just propel his thick cock
deeper inside her, hitting all her nerve endings, sending shivers throughout
her body, making her nipples throb in response.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Fay’s mind swiftly came back to the
present with a start as Mrs. Sinclair started her usual litany.
Oh
God. She is so easy.
If it were her, she’d make him
work hard for her climax. Fay closed her
eyes as she envisaged a different scenario.
Hmmm,
yes. I’d be on the rug in front of the fire on my hands and knees so he could
fondle my boobs and clit easily while thrusting deep inside me from behind—and
if he didn’t do it right, I’d slide forward at the crucial time, denying him
his orgasm.
The dream moved on and she
pictured herself moving to sit on the couch pretending disdain at his
entreaties to finish him off. She would make a bargain—her climax for his. He
would then come to her, kneeling before her to spread her legs wide to either
side of her head. His hands held her ankles tightly, pushing them against the
back of the couch as she slid down, her butt coming to the edge of the sofa.
Moisture dripped from Fay’s
pussy both in real life and in her dream, as he dipped his head between her
legs, licking up her inner thigh toward her deeply red labial lips. His tongue
worked its magic on her throbbing clit as she gripped the cushions, trying not
to yell too loudly and wake the children. When his teeth gently nibbled her
nub, she shot off into a different dimension, bucking upwards, dislodging his
head.
Ooooooo,
yes, yes, yes.
Fay came back to the present,
gritting her teeth to hold in her moans of completion, her right hand slowing
its actions on her clit as the tree swayed slightly.
Giving a huge, silent sigh, she
echoed Mrs. Sinclair’s groan as she, too, came down from her own orgasm.
Glancing over at her owners, Fay could see they were breathing as heavily as
she was, as they lay replete on the sofa.
But Fay’s sigh was slightly
bittersweet. It would be nice to share her climax with someone, and not have to
stifle it in case the humans heard.
Except Fay rarely got out. Her
job was to sit on top of the tree each Christmas and when the festivities were
over she was put away in a box, stuffed at the back of the attic. The only time
she got out of the dark container was when the family brought the box down and
untangled her from the other decorations.
One
day I’m going to burn that dreadful tinsel. She always ended up half-strangled by a
length of glittery, scratchy, useless stuff, and breathed a sigh of relief when
they finally freed her.
She had managed to sneak away on
a few occasions in previous years by climbing down from the tree at night to
visit a paranormal bar. It had been great fun, although some creatures were
unable to be there, like the elves, because they were busy with their seasonal
duties. In fact, her very first experience of sex was with a goblin called Noel
she’d met there.
Moreover, some, like the wood
sprites, hated the weather so much at this time of year that they generally flew
off to warmer climes. Fay chuckled. The humans might have a tradition of
keeping the greenery indoors to keep the sprites alive, but they had no idea
there was no one there after all and all they had was dead leaves.
One year, Fay overheard some of
them chatting about their holiday they had last year and how they had met up
with some satyrs. She was quite jealous at the stories of their exploits in
bed. The satyrs were sexual animals, from all accounts.
I
wish one year I could have a Christmas holiday.
Uh-oh. Fairies should be careful
what they wish for…
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