Naughty Christmas Wishes
© Jennifer Denys
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…