Welcome to the second guest post! Everyone seemed to enjoy the first from All These Roadworks, who will be back for more in the near future. Today, I'm introducing another author, someone that's incredibly talented and just beginning to publish her work. Lisa Lopez is a gorgeous Latina, who I've had the very hot pleasure of meeting in person. We first connected through Literotica, after she read The Second Place Sister, and it turned out we were pretty close to one another. Her site model is just that, a model, but the real Lisa is (in my opinion) much sexier. Let's encourage her to start modeling herself for her material. 😉
I will state, up front, that this story does not fit into the reluctance/noncon space. However, since this site has a huge amount of family fun readers, this may check a lot of boxes. In the long term, Erotikinks is about presenting exceptional writers of all kinds of erotic content. It's why I chose the name, rather than making this ToriHamlin.com or some such. The cold truth about erotica is that it often gets lumped in with porn, which I think is unfair. Erotic stories are based around character and fantasy, where the story is the heart.
Very rarely have I come across another writer who can fashion such engaging and likeable characters, weaving them into a story that will have you hot one minute and in tears the next, but that's Lisa's talent. She also does content in the cheating wife/gf space, cuck themes, femdom, and the like. Her upcoming novel, Matriarchy, which I'm helping with, I think will be a real kick for those that like dark and sadistic femdom stories, so keep up with her.
I threw the idea her way of doing a Christmas story for the holiday and basing it around a taboo romance theme, and this is the result. It's a remarkable holiday read, and really hits the Christmas spirit. The final four chapters of the book are a soul-crushing read, while the rest of it is a lot of hot and sexy fun.
While my own kinks lean pretty heavily toward reluctance and noncon, I love a solid story more than anything else. I hope you will, too. If you like Lisa's work, visit her site at LisaXLopez.com. You can also follow her on Twitter. Her other novella, The Beauty of Broken Things, is a non-erotic read, but does have a couple of pretty hot sex scenes, and the story itself is one of the saddest things I've ever read in my life.
Other works include Kyle's Conquests, an upcoming novella about reluctant seduction of three wives at the hands of a hunky gym trainer, and a serial story that's posted on her site called Cucking Brian, which is a bit of a confessional that details mostly true, but eroticized accounts of Lisa's own humiliation of her poor boyfriend.
December 13th: Coming Home
As the snowfall intensified, adding another layer of white to the already blanketed stretch of country road, Christmas slipped on her gloves, her hat, and opened the car door with a frustrated sigh. Her sneakers were not meant for the sudden cold, wet crunch of the snow that they sank into when she stepped out of the car. It was bitter, biting through her thin socks as she trudged to the back of the vehicle and looked at the flat tire. Fuck.
Glancing both ways down the road, she saw only a stretch of white as far as the limited visibility allowed. Despairing, she got back into the car, cranked the heat, and pulled out her phone. No signal. Fuck. It was just her luck, she thought, a goddamned flat just a few miles out of town.
She turned on the hazard lights and watched the snow fall, scanning the road, hoping that someone would see her and stop. She should have known better, should have been prepared. All those times, those lessons, growing up in the harsh winters of the Upper Peninsula, came back to her and she felt stupid.
"Always have an emergency kit, a spare, and a jack," her father's voice said, "You're going to get stranded at some point. It's inevitable."
Christmas, though, had been away for a while, living in the warmer climate of the south and attending school. She hadn't been prepared and the long drive back up north had been such smooth sailing. Naturally, her luck would run out just an hour from town.
Headlights broke the swirling snow, heading toward town. Christmas quickly leapt from the car, soaking her feet again and waving her arms at the oncoming truck, shouting into the wind. The truck began to slow, then stopped. She thanked the small town kindness of strangers and crunched through the snow. The truck's door opened and a tightly bundled man stepped out, better prepared, wearing heavy snow boots. He started toward her.
When he was close enough, he tugged down his scarf and said, "Chris? That you?"
Christmas felt relief. Not a stranger. Even better.
"Tommy!" she exclaimed and hugged him, "Thank God!"
"Having some trouble, huh?" Tommy said, returning the embrace.
Tommy shook his head and said, "Been away too long. Should have had a spare."
Christmas rolled her eyes and said, "Think you can take me into town?"
"Hop in," Tommy said, "I'll call Hank when we get close, and he can tow you in."
Christmas returned to the car and retrieved her bag, locked it, and walked to the truck. The heated cabin was a welcome feeling. Tommy opened his side, got in, closed it, and removed his scarf. The truck rumbled back onto the road.
"Headed home?" Tommy asked, hesitantly.
Christmas nodded and said, "Yeah. First time in four years. How have you been?"
Tommy shrugged, "Good, I suppose. Can't complain. You talked to your brother?"
"All the time," Christmas replied, "He came down to see me at school, once."
"Glad to see you back," Tommy grinned, "Town just ain't been the same without a Christmas dance at The North Pole from the town mascot!"
She punched his shoulder and laughed, "Well don't count on that again. It's Lester's fault for spiking the egg nog."
"What about the next year?"
"Peer pressure," Christmas shrugged again.
"Well, consider this your first dose of peer pressure upon your return," he said, laughing back.
"Don't count on it."
As they drove into town, they caught up over the four years. Town life hadn't changed much, as life in small towns is wont to do. The same familiar names and places were all there, still doing the same things they'd been about four years ago. They passed a sign reading, "Welcome to Christmas! Where every day is Christmas!"
It was ridiculous, she thought, but there was always a little glow of satisfaction when she saw the name of the town she'd been named after, born on the day that the town was named after. It was one of life's little oddities, but it was her oddity. The town, likewise, loved that little oddity and loved her for it.
Tommy dropped her off at the door to her home, the home where her brother lived, alone.
"I'll get Hank out to get your car. Keys?" Tommy said.
Christmas fished in her coat pocket and handed him the key to the car.
"Thanks again, Tommy. Tell Hank I'll settle up with him tomorrow, if that's alright."
Tommy shook his head and said, "You know what he's gonna say."
Christmas did know. Hank would say, "I can't be chargin' the town mascot for that," but Christmas would insist and pay him anyway.
"Then just tell him I said thanks," she said and stepped out of the truck.
Tommy gave her a little salute and drove away. Christmas walked up to the house and let herself in. The house seemed dark and quiet.
"Brad?" she called out.
No answer. She hung her coat in the entryway and walked into the dark living room. The curtains were drawn, and the room was nearly pitch black, but the filtered light was just enough that she could see, and sense, people in the room. A Christmas tree suddenly burst into lighted life, casting a multicolored splash across the room. The sounds of carols blared from the speakers, stopping her in her tracks.
There was Brad, on the couch, along with the two neighbors, the Blakley's, while her two old besties, Leah and Sasha stood behind the couch. All of them smiled widely as they shouted, "Merry Christmas!"
Brad stood up from the couch as Christmas broke into a grin, her throat tightening. Her brother swept her up and twirled her around as she shrieked, then set her on her feet and put a kiss on her cheek, hugging her tightly.
"Welcome home," he whispered, his hand drifting to touch her ass, just out of sight of the gathering.
She blushed at the touch and felt a little hot thrill. It had been a while. Brad let her go and each of the neighbors, then her friends greeted her with hugs. It was good to be home.
With fresh socks on and slippers on her feet, Christmas sat with Sasha and Leah on the couch, while Brad chatted with Mr. Blakley. Mrs. Blakley, meanwhile, served cookies and punch.
"You're going to stay through the new year, right?" Leah asked.
Christmas nodded and said, "Yeah. Probably longer. I'm all graduated, so I have to start looking for work now. I only stayed long enough to run out my lease, so the other girls wouldn't have to pick up the rent."
"What are you gonna do with that fancy degree?" Sasha asked.
"Not so fancy," Christmas said, shrugging, "I guess I'll write some more, maybe try to get a job at the paper? I don't know."
"Maybe you can write me a love poem," Sasha said, glancing toward Brad, "Help me win a certain heart?"
Christmas laughed and said, "That's a cold heart. I don't think there are words in any language that are going to win it."
Inwardly, there was just a little jealous rush, but that was her secret, hers and Brad's.
"Guess so," Sasha said, "You sure he's not gay? He doesn't even look at me."
She primped her hair and bounced her tits with a saucy grin, as Brad looked their way. He didn't even acknowledge the flirtation.
"Pretty sure," Christmas said, "Why don't you ask him?"
Sasha shook her head and said, "Probably not polite."
The little party wore on for a few hours, but eventually Brad showed the neighbors out and the girls all exchanged further hugs. Finally, she was alone with her brother.
"Popcorn and cheesy holiday flicks?" she asked, giving him a sly smile.
"Absolutely!" Brad agreed.
Before long, the fireplace was roaring and Christmas was wrapped in a blanket, wearing a set of ridiculous holiday pajamas. The only light came from the twinkling tree and the TV. Brad lay behind her on the couch, his arm around her waist and the blanket over the two of them. His face was buried in her hair, and she could feel his cock, hard, against her ass.
"Miss me?" Christmas asked, breathily, as her hand moved to touch his cock.
"You have no idea," he said, kissing her neck.
"My roommates all asked about you," she said, as Brad's hand moved from her waist to her breast, palming it through her top, "They were so curious about my boyfriend only visiting once."
Brad growled and said, "I'd have come more often, if you'd let me."
"They all made jokes about how hard you fucked me," she whispered, moving her hand up to cup his cheek, as he nuzzled against her neck, "They wanted to borrow you."
Brad groaned and rubbed his erection against her, squeezed her breast.
"I know why you did it," he said, "kept me away. I missed you, Chris."
"I missed you, too," she said, and turned, putting her hand on his neck and drawing him in, pressing her lips softly to his.
The heat of his kiss melted her, the longing for him rising, hot, the intensity of it bringing tears to her eyes as their lips met, melded. Brad brushed her hair back, just as eager for her, but he stopped and wiped at a tear with his finger.
"I just… I needed time away, you know? To think it all through. I wasn't in a good place back then."
Brad nodded and said, "Neither of us were. I'm sorry if I…"
She stopped him, shaking her head, "You didn't. I wanted it. I still do. I just had to work it out for myself."
"And?" he asked, his hand moving back to her hip, toying with the pajama bottoms.
She kissed him again, more passionately, eager, the long pent-up desire conveyed in the hunger of the simple action. There wasn't a need for words. No words could say what she meant. For now, there wasn't a need. For now, there was only the popping of the fire and the low drone of carols on the TV, just the feel of his lips and the closeness of him, tender. It would be so easy, right now, she thought, to surrender to him, to give herself. She wanted to. God, how she wanted to, but it wasn't time.
She broke away and stroked his cheek, studied his eyes, dark and soft, the reflected firelight dancing in them, like the flames of desire that she knew were just waiting for her word, any agreement that he could take her. He would, too, she knew. He'd have her right here and she was wet for it, practically salivating to feel it, but she didn't give him that agreement. Instead, she gave him a teasing smirk.
"What?" he asked at the look.
"Ready for your first gift?" she asked.
"If I can unwrap the one in front of me, it's the only gift I need."
She shook her head and said, "Not yet," and watched his slightly frustrated expression, poorly hidden, then continued, "I'm going to make it special for you. We're going to play a little game."
"Strip poker?" he asked, grinning.
She rolled her eyes and explained, "No. I'm going to give you a present, each day until Christmas. This game is called Twelve Days in Christmas."
His grin widened and he said, "This sounds much better than strip poker."
"Day one," she said, and her hand slid into his pajama pants, where she found his cock and began to stroke it.
Brad groaned and half shut his eyes. Christmas slid from the couch, leaving the warmth of the blanket, and pulled the pants down. Her brother's cock came free, twitching and bobbing in the firelight. Giggling, she picked up the silly Christmas hat from the end table, put it on her head, and looked up at him from her kneeling position.
"I've been very naughty," she whispered, "and I don't intend to stop."
"Please don't," Brad breathed.
She licked up the length of his cock, making him groan delightedly as her tongue coated the underside of it, tickling his cockhead with the tip. Christmas put her lips around it and slowly, lovingly, suckled on the head of it as she watched him. She could see the vacant look in his eyes as he surrendered to the pleasure, and she loved it. For a long moment she nursed on his cock, massaging that sensitive head with her lips, allowing rivulets of saliva to drool down the shaft of it.
When she felt his cock jerk, she slowly swallowed his length, gliding her lips wetly down it, coating it, until her lips touched his crotch. Brad groaned, shook, and put his hand on her head, careful not to dislodge the hat.
"Oh my God," he breathed, "I missed this so much."
Christmas moaned around his cock and continued to slowly, lovingly worship it. Each time she felt it twitch and jerk, she released the suction around his shaft and let the feeling pass. Satisfied that he was not going to cum, she went back to work on it, licking, sucking, intent on giving him the longest, wettest blowjob that she could, before he no longer had the stamina to last a moment longer. Her knees were sore, and George Bailey was about to deliver the perfect line on the TV. Christmas suddenly kicked up her sucking to hungry, desperate slut level and Brad held on.
"Fuck!" he gasped, and Christmas knew she'd timed it perfectly.
"Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve…" The TV said, and Christmas began to swallow her brother's gift.
She hummed and gulped, moaned and sucked, extracting every drop that she could from his edged cock.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck…" Brad panted, writhing in pleasurable torment as his sister drained his cock.
She held him and sucked him until his balls were empty, then came up for air, took a drink, and then began to suck again.
"Oh, fuck," Brad groaned and said, "I… Jesus I can't…"
Christmas looked up at him with his half-erect cock in her mouth and raised one eyebrow as she swallowed his length again.
"Oh, fuck it," Brad sighed and relaxed into the couch, "Keep going."
Christmas smiled around his cock.
Enjoying this story? The full book is available on Lisa's site in its entirety. Look for future work from this author.
Is it also available on Smashwords.
As the first partnership release, it is also available in the Erotikinks Shop