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What I Really Want for Christmas
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
What I really want for Christmas
I awoke this morning at eleven o'clock. Christmas jingles played on the
radio as I stretched my thin, tired arms. Tomorrow would be Christmas
morning. I hated Christmas. I never received anything I ever wanted. Would
I get the present I always dreamed of tomorrow? Probably not. Slowly
slipping out of bed, I wandered to my window. Pulling open the curtains, I
could not see my present yet. I hoped it was coming soon. I begged my
parents night and day to let me have one. They told me to ask Santa for it
and maybe he would bring me it. Looking across the street, I saw old Mr.
Tallow with his binoculars again. He must surely like to bird watch. I waved
to him and he just smiled. Feeling hot and sticky, I had to get out of my
see-though nightgown and take a shower. Letting my nightgown fall to the
ground, I press my perky breasts to the window so I could make sure my present
was not waiting for my outside. Thinking I might have caught a glimpse of it,
I lowered my hand to my pussy and began to finger myself. Mr. Tallow dropped
his binoculars out of the window. Oh well, it was time for that shower.
Totally naked, I left my room and entered the bathroom.
Turning on the warm, soothing water, I stepped slowly inside. The water
warmed my petite sixteen year old body. Grabbing the bar of soap, I began to
form a deep, sensual lather on my washboard stomach. Around and around went
the bar of soap. This stomach of mine cost me fifty sit-ups a night to keep
but boy was it worth it. When I wear my bikini in the summer, boys faint all
around me. Let me put it to you this way, I had never had a problem persuing
my sexual desires. Slowly but surely, I made my way up to my bountiful bosom.
Circling around to each nipple, I could feel them hardening to my touch. My
mother kept joking with me that I needed a breast reduction. I like my
breasts the size they were. I would not be able to do half the things I can
get away with now if my breasts were not double d's. My breasts are my
weapons against man. They can make a man do anything I want. They are more
lethal than a gun in most cases. With one hand massaging my neck, the other
one slips down to my vaginal region. Pubic hair made for good, rich
lathering...
If you want me to go on, then tell me to. I think you know what she is
going to do next. Or do you? Write me. Without a response, she can't have
the fun she so rightfully deserves on her worst holiday. Besides, there is
over eight more real pages of delight. I am waiting to her from my fans if I
have any.
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