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Twelve Days in Christmas, Ch. 2-8: (Guest Post by Lisa X Lopez)

The second edition of Lisa X Lopez's Twelve Days in Christmas. Read part one here. Though it's not the site's usual kinks, I believe in sharing excellent writing and promoting good authors, especially when they're fresh and getting started. Lisa has some darker kinks coming down the line, too. Her versatility makes her one of the best new erotica authors to watch out for.

December 14th: Marcy

Waking up with her brother’s tongue stroking wetly through her pussy was, possibly, the best way Christmas could think of. She played at sleep and let him lick and suck at her, while his hands slid beneath the pajama top to touch her breasts. When he sealed his lips around her button, though, and began to flick his tongue around it in little circles, there was no more playing. She ground her pussy against him and sighed happily, giggling as he worked her toward the perfect morning orgasm. Then it came, and she shuddered, her legs giving small kicks as the pleasure brought her around.

Her hand found his, still beneath her shirt, and covered it. There was something so erotic about feeling his hand on her breasts, covering it with her own through the layer of cloth, resting it there as he gently squeezed her. He continued licking slowly up and down her slit, apparently in a mood to return the long and luxurious oral pleasure she’d given him the night before. The moment was perfect and she couldn’t break it with words, so she only moaned softly and enjoyed the long, thorough tongue fucking.

After bringing her off again, Brad moved up her body and kissed her, sharing the reward he’d extracted from her. His naked cock, hard and hot, pressed against her pussy. Just the slightest inkling of consent and he’d push it into her, fill her up and fuck her. He’d make slow love to her, she knew, feeling the mood. It was torture on herself not to give him the go ahead, but it wasn’t time. That would ruin the build-up and then she’d let him fuck her every day. Instead, she broke the kiss and cupped his cheek, closing her legs.

“I loved that,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said, his voice gruff, excited, but a bit annoyed at having been denied.

“I need to shower,” she said, “and I’m going to do it alone. I need to go out with the girls today.”

Brad let her go, looking down at his hardon, then at her with a pleading look.

She shook her head teasingly and said, “I like you this way. My game, my rules. Don’t you dare empty those balls on your own.”

Brad groaned as she stood up and stretched, shaking her hair and giving him an enticing view of her ass as she bent over to retrieve the pajama bottoms. She tossed them to him, then stripped off the shirt, standing naked in front of him, then tossed him the clothes.

“Do some laundry for me, will you?” she asked, and ran for the shower.


When she was dressed, Christmas crept into the laundry room, where Brad was putting clothes into the washer. She glided in behind him and slid her arms around his waist, nuzzling the back of his neck. Her hand snaked downward, into his pajama pants, and found his half-hard cock.

Brad groaned as she stroked it for him, getting it hard again in moments. She continued to stroke him, her fist around his length, jerking him delicately.

“When I come home, I could suck it for you again,” she whispered. “You could let your little sister suck your cock, like a filthy little pervert. Would you like that?”


“You could put me on my knees and push your big cock right into my mouth again.”


She stroked him faster. “You could fuck my mouth really hard, like a pussy, since I’m teasing you so bad. Do you want that? Do you want to choke me with it and make me do it for you until you cum?”


“Cum for me,” she begged, her tits pressed into his back. “Cum for your little sister and you can do it. You can use my mouth like a wet little hole for your cock.”

Brad’s penis jerked, and he groaned, cumming into her hand, his pants, as he leaned against the washer. Christmas withdrew her hand and licked it, watching him as he slowly turned around.

“You have some more laundry to do,” she said, sucking on her finger. “I’ll be home later.”

Brad gasped and then said, “What… about your car?”

“I’m taking yours,” she said, grinning. “You don’t mind, right?”

He shook his head. She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth.

“Don’t you go getting yourself on the ‘good’ list. I need you to be really naughty, alright?”

He nodded, swallowing, and watched her walk out the door, his keys jingling in her hand.


The town’s main street had grown over the last four years, Christmas noted, as she strolled down the sidewalk with Sasha and Leah. Many of the same old businesses, town staples that had been installed for decades, stood alongside newer ones. Some of these, she noted, were familiar corporate names that had been present in the big city. Ella’s Homespun Fashions stood next to a Gap store, and a Starbucks sat across the street from The Roost, a family-owned cafe and coffee bar. The two of them seemed to have a healthy rivalry going, too, as each store had their own sign claiming to be able to produce their own “twist” on the other’s favorite drinks.

On every other lamppost, Christmas saw, were signs advertising this year’s holiday activities. The middle school would be putting on a performance of A Christmas Carol, while the dance school that Christmas had attended was doing The Nutcracker. Then, there was the annual pageant, a fundraiser for the benefit of the Christmas Scholars Program, which provided scholarships for college.

“What are you going to wear for the pageant?” Sasha asked as they passed by a Columbia store and pushed through the doors of Dressed by Diane.

“I didn’t know I signed up,” Christmas answered.

Diane Sansbury, still making the clothes, and with her daughter at the register, scurried around the counter to wrap Christmas in a hug.

“I heard you were back,” she said, kissing her on each cheek, “and I’ve already got your dress!”

“My dress?” Christmas asked.

“For the pageant,” Diane explained. “I’ll tailor it in a bit if I need to, but you’re going to knock them dead this year!”

She looked from Sasha to Leah, then back to Diane and said, again, “I didn’t know I signed up.”

“I signed you up when you told me you were coming back,” Leah said, grinning.

“How… thoughtful of you,” Christmas said, grimacing.

“You know, it’s a foregone conclusion that you’re going to do it. How could you not?” Sasha asked.

Christmas sighed and said, “I guess I know what I’m wearing. Can I see it?”

Diane took her by the arm and dragged her into the back, where racks of clothes, finished and in production, stood. She passed the racks and opened a cabinet in the back, then returned with a dress on a hanger and laid it out on the table. The dress was a gorgeous thing of shimmery green that looked like satin. Christmas could tell that it would be form-fitting and the neckline was perilously low.

“It’s a bit… sexy. Isn’t it?” she asked.

Diane beamed and nodded her head, saying, “Like I said. You’re going to knock them dead!”

“Should I try it on?”

“Of course!” Diane crowed and handed her the dress, then indicated a changing room in the back.

Christmas took the dress to the room and changed. In the mirror, she blushed at how sexy it was. The backless dress had an asymmetrical neck, with one side held up by a thin strap. Each side was attached to a satin choker that fit around her neck. It adhered tightly to her form, showing off luscious cleavage, and was long on one side, while her right leg was bare from the hip down. little sequins glittered under the light. She had to admit, it really was gorgeous.

She stepped out of the dressing room to a whistle of approval from Diane, who immediately set about taking measurements, intent on getting it perfect. Once she was satisfied, Christmas returned and changed again, then brought the dress back.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “What do I owe you for it?”

Diane scoffed and said, “I can’t charge you for showing off my work. How does someone bill a girl named Christmas in a town named Christmas, during Christmas. It’s unholy.”

Christmas, used to this line of reasoning from the town, asked, “What would be an appropriate donation to make?”

“The shelter always needs a hand,” Diane said, “all those little homeless dogs, and at this time of year.”

She shook her head sadly.

“Done,” Christmas agreed.

Diane showed her back out, where she found Sasha and Leah browsing the racks.

“Did it meet with your approval, Mrs. Claus?” Sasha jested.

“Hey, I didn’t ask for this,” Christmas said.

“Why couldn’t my parents have named me Rudolph?” Leah asked wistfully.

“It wouldn’t have resulted in dresses,” Christmas said. “The town would have just hitched you to the sleigh and made you pull Santa down Main on Christmas Eve.”

“Is it weird that I find that a little exciting?” Leah asked.

“That depends. Are you wearing a red nose in that fantasy? If so, then it’s completely legit,” Sasha added.

Leah held up a yellow dress and raised her eyebrows.

“If you want to look like a banana,” Sasha said, and Leah sighed, placing the dress back on the rack.

“Why are we even bothering?” she asked. “It’s not like any of us are going to bring in more donations than Christmas, anyway. The town mascot’s first pageant? It’s hopeless.”

“Don’t count on that,” came a snide voice from behind.

The three of them whipped around to face a tall blonde. Her green eyes glittered, a match for the small, twinkling Christmas wreath earrings she wore. Her coat was a Burberry in the classic check, which matched her handbag, and her winter boots were black Prada padded nylon booties. Christmas couldn’t help feeling somewhat offended that a person would wear a pair of $1,300 boots in the snow, but then, that was just Marcy.

“Hello, Marcy,” Christmas said, coldly.

“Mascot,” Marcy said derisively.

“You can’t buy the pageant, Marcy,” Sasha said.

“Anything can be bought,” Marcy shot back, smirking.

“Except Brad,” Leah said, and Christmas felt pleased when the comment brought an embarrassed flush to Marcy’s cheeks.

Marcy recovered and waved her hand, dismissing the jab, and said, “You three can just bow out now. Once everyone gets a look at what CJ made for me, it’ll be lights out.”

She gave them a devilish wink.

“So, you went to the most expensive tailor in town,” Sasha said, “and that’s going to guarantee you a win? You do remember that who is actually in the dress matters, too, right?”

“That’s why I’m a lock for it,” Marcy said, flipping her hair.

“Whatever,” Leah shot back, “Christmas is gonna stuff your stocking!”

Despite the rivalry, the four of them all had to laugh at the absurd joke.

“Too bad jokes aren’t going to help you get donations,” Marcy said, pasting her bitch face back on.

“What are you doing down here with us peasants, anyway?” Sasha asked, “Isn’t this place a little low-rent for the likes of you?”

Marcy shrugged and said, “CJ doesn’t do gloves and Diane’s are super cute. I’m buying them all to donate them to St. Mary’s.”

“Generosity, or a tax write off?” Sasha asked.

Marcy ignored her and said, “Just don’t get your hopes up, mascot. I would so hate for you to be disappointed.”

She stalked away toward the counter, a nearly visible cloud of bitchiness trailing behind.

“The true embodiment of Christmas cheer, that one,” Leah said.

Christmas shrugged and said, “Let her have her fun.”


Christmas returned home with numerous shopping bags to find her car in the driveway. On her way in, she noted that the wiper blades had been replaced, and new tires added all around. It was washed and a fresh oil change sticker showed in the corner of the window. She shook her head and walked inside.

She found Brad in his office, the same one that had previously been their father’s, going over statements for what looked like investments. He was on his feet and kissing her the moment she walked through the door. Christmas melted into it, purring softly as his tongue probed her mouth. As wonderful as it was, she pulled herself away.

“Before you get all hard again, could you help me bring in some bags?” she asked, flushed.

“Too late,” Brad said. “I’ve been hard for a while.”

He reached for her again, but she danced away, laughing, and said, “No! Bags first and then I need to work for a bit.”

“Oh? Got a brilliant idea?” he asked.

“I always have a brilliant idea,” she said, walking back toward the car.

Brad helped her lug the bags into the house, then carried them up the stairs to her unused bedroom. Once he set them down, he was on her again, but she wiggled away.

“You’re not to defile me,” she said, “Not until after the lighting festival tonight. And then, only if you’re a perfect gentleman.”

“That seems doomed to failure,” he said, frowning. “I thought you knew me better.”

“Get out,” she ordered, “I have words in my head that need to come out.”

“Dirty words?” he asked.

“What other kind do I write?”

“As you wish, m’lady,” he said, doffing an imaginary cap with a bow.

“Not that gentlemanly,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Brad shut the door. Christmas took her laptop to the bed and rested back against the pillows, breathing in and letting her imagination run. The fact that she did want him to pin her down to the bed and fuck her was perfect for the tale she had in her head. She gave the piece the tentative title that she already knew would stick. Twelve Days in Christmas, she typed and giggled.

The writing was a joy. It was both her confessional and her fantasies, giving her a little thrill as she chronicled her own seduction. To her readers, of course, this was an erotic fantasy, like all of her stories. The knowledge that it was true, she kept to herself, but it was the truth of it that made it generate sales. The other work, while still sexy, never did as well as the romanticized publication of her own sibling seduction.


It was the secret that made it fun, Christmas thought, as she held Brad’s hand and walked toward the Christmas Green for the lighting of the tree and town square. No one gave a second thought to Brad, holding his younger sister’s hand. To them, it was sweet, familial, the kind of gesture one expected from two orphaned siblings that had grown up close and bonded further over an untimely loss. With their fingers intertwined through the gloves, though, Christmas could feel it for what it was, and it was romantic.

She casually swung her arm, hand-in-hand with her brother, while they walked down the snow-dusted sidewalk toward the Green. To the rest of the town, they were still those two sad kids, Brad just nineteen and Christmas seventeen, tearful and afraid after the boating accident that had taken their parents. They saw cute, but Christmas knew that when the door was shut, it wouldn’t be her own bed she slept in.

It was sexy, and it was naughty, but it was also something deeper. She’d spent four years thinking about it, away from Brad, away from the town, sorting out the confusion. She’d dated boys, slept with them, looked into their eyes and tried to probe their souls, but there was no real depth, not like this. She clung to Brad’s arm and gave him a little wink, which he returned.

Sasha and Leah were already waiting on the edge of Christmas Green, where the big tree stood, waiting to be turned on and kick off the two weeks of merriment. Over those weeks, there would be an influx of visitors, out-of-towners looking to share in the spirit of the season that the town was named for. They would shop and drink, ice fish or sleigh ride. They would sled down the steep hills and fill the pockets of the local businesses. A few days before Christmas eve, most of them would be gone, though.

The three girls all exchanged customary cheek kisses, and then Sasha and Leah blushingly planted one each on Brad. Together, bundled in hats and coats, scarves around their necks, they looked up at the giant tree.

“Who are you going to donate to in the pageant, Brad?” Sasha asked, with a hint of hope in her voice.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll just have to see the line-up,” he said, noncommittally.

“You can’t just give it to your sister. That’s, like, cheating. Right?” Leah asked.

“I didn’t know you’d signed up,” Brad said to Christmas.

“I didn’t know until today,” she said, giving Leah a glare that contained a grin.

“Just as long as you aren’t donating to that… bitch,” Sasha said.

Brad narrowed his eyes and Sasha said, “Not Chris, you dork. Marcy.”

“Oh,” Brad said, rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t piss on Marcy if she was on fire.”

“I would kind of like to see someone piss on Marcy. If she was on fire, that would just be a bonus,” Leah said.

“Really feeling that Christmas spirit, huh?” Brad joked.

“Guess that was kinda mean, huh? Sorry, Mr. Santa,” Leah retracted.

“What would the world do without rich bitches?” Christmas asked. “We’d have no one to lord our own superiority over.”

She pulled her arm from Brad’s and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Sasha quickly took her place, sliding her arm into Brad’s and saying, “Her loss!”

She batted her eyes at Brad, who only shook his head.

Christmas crossed the edge of the Green and flung her arms around Hank, wrapped in a plaid coat.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, happily, chuckling, “Good to have you back.”

“Thanks for fixing the car,” she said, “and all the other stuff. That was too nice.”

“Wasn’t nothing at all,” Hank said, “and don’t even think about settling the bill.”

“Don’t fucking say it,” she said, breaking away with a laugh, “If I have to hear Christmas in Christmas at Christmas one more time, I’m going to… I guess I’m going to live with it. That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

“Whoa! The mouth on you, girl!” Hank chastised her kindly, “Your daddy would’a swatted you good for talk like that.”

“I’ll stop in at St. Mary’s and ask for forgiveness,” she said, then added, “I just wanted to thank you.”

Hank nodded, tilted his hat, then said, “I got my money on you in the pageant this year. Looking forward to seeing that dress that Diane’s been on about.”

“Did everyone but me know that I was doing this?” she asked.

“Surely did,” Hank said, chuckling, “You shoulda known better, what with those two harpies you associate with.”

“I’m going back to my harpies. See you at The Pole?”

“I’ll be in for a drink after, yup.”

Christmas kissed his cheek and walked back to her friends.

“You want him back?” Sasha asked, offering her Brad.

“You can keep him,” Christmas said. “He’s a little young for me.”

“You hear that lover boy?” Sasha said. “The town mascot just gave you to me for Christmas.”

Brad only chuckled and said, “I think the town abolished indentured servitude quite some time ago.”

“Pity,” Sasha grumbled, “I’d let you unwrap me every night.”

She winked up at him. Brad did not reply to the invitation, but he allowed her to continue clinging to his arm.

A loudspeaker cut through the air announcing loudly, “Merry Christmas!”

A responding answer went up from the assembled crowd, in kind. From down the street came the sound of carolers. All eyes turned toward the sound. In the distance, a procession approached, the children’s choir from St. Mary’s, each of them holding a candle. Behind them came a sleigh, red and lit up, pulled by a team of reindeer. Children in the crowd, many hoisted on the shoulders of adults, clapped or cheered excitedly. Further to the rear were the drum line from the high school, beating time for the carolers, marching in step.

A sheriff’s car rolled slowly behind, the lights having been swapped out for red and green. The procession slowly made its way onto the Green, stopping in front of the dark tree. The lights of the car switched off and Mayor Tinsley, dressed in his Santa suit, dismounted the sleigh with a jolly, “Ho, ho, ho!”

He made a show of strutting about, carrying a sack, which he set beneath the tree. The carolers filed off to either side of the tree, finishing their song. When it had died away, Santa took up a remote in his hand, showed it to the crowd, and declared, “Christmas time… is here!”

He clicked the remote, and the tree flared to life, filling the Green with brilliant color. All along the Green, string lights winked on in soft white, and then down the streets, more lights filled the night, draped between lampposts, hanging from the frontage of the shops. The town hall at the head of the Green glowed with a gigantic wreath. A cheer went up from the crowd. Christmas hooked her hand into Brad’s free one and then took Leah’s in her other. They shared a quick look that, for some reason, made Christmas blush.

As the carolers sang, parents with small children came forward in a line and Santa handed out a present to each child. Every adult in attendance could recall when it had once been them, standing in that line, holding a parent’s hand, being given a gift. The years would go by and those children that stayed would one day stand in line with their own. That was the way of things in Christmas at Christmas. Brad squeezed his sister’s hand with meaning, and she felt tears in her eyes, wondering if she would one day stand in that line again.

It didn’t seem possible. The secret wouldn’t allow for it. But as she glanced up at Brad and saw the mirrored mist in his own eyes, she knew that she would not trade standing in the line for him. She squeezed his hand back, knowing he’d get the message. As tradition would have it, they waited until the line was empty. At this point, normally, the mayor would wish them all a good night. However, the voice over the speakers happily asked, “And where is our holiday mascot? Christmas Carol?”

“Oh my God,” Christmas groaned, as everyone looked around for her.

Leah dragged her away from Brad, who only gave her a stupid grin, rather than sweeping her away from the embarrassment. Laughing, Leah pulled her to the front, where Santa took her hand and once more announced, “Christmas… is here!”

She gave the crowd a reluctant wave as they cheered for her. Standing to the side, silently killing her with her eyes, she saw Marcy. She was not cheering.


The North Pole, known to the locals as simply The Pole, was not the only bar in town. It had the distinction, though, of having the largest open area and an excellent stage for holding events. This made it ideal for hosting the annual pageant, as well as dances, costume balls, and spring flings. The ladies, along with Brad, pushed through the doors to find the place already filling with other locals and visitors.

Lively country blasted from the modern surround setup and Sasha began to dance toward the bar with Leah and Christmas in tow, leaving Brad behind. He seated himself with some of the locals and quickly fell into conversation. Christmas stood in line at the bar, watching the excited holiday crowd. The last time she’d been in, she wasn’t legally allowed to drink. The atmosphere had seemed different.

At twenty-four, now, and having lived on a college campus in the south, the bar scene was familiar. Just like in college, the locals gathered together, while the visitors sat apart in smaller groups. There were couples, too, dotting the place in pairs. Some of them she did recognize as annual visitors, who were welcomed in warmly. In a corner of the place, with a dark cloud brooding over them, sat Marcy, Julia, Carry, and Jason. Christmas nodded politely to the little group of the town’s well-off, but received only a sneer in reply.

Despite having done nothing to her, and being gone for four years, Marcy still held onto that lifelong hate. Some things never changed. Their turn at the bar came and Christmas turned from the glaring group of stuck ups to find Keller Miller behind the bar.

“Chris?” he asked. “Heard you were back in. Merry… you know.” he grinned.

“Hey, Kel. Your dad retire?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Nah. He’ll never retire. He just gives me the bartending more often now. He’s out on the floor with Pat Mitchum.”

Christmas looked over her shoulder, scanned, and found the elder Miller out on the dance floor, swaying with the ten-year widower.

“No shit?” she asked.

Kellen nodded, saying, “What’ll you have?”

“Something festive. Your call. Just don’t give me any of that ‘your money’s no good here, mascot’ bullshit,” she said, pulling out her wallet.

“You kidding? I’d get disowned for skipping the check, even for you.”

“Thanks, Kel.”

“One Red-Nosed Reindeer coming up,” Keller said, and started mixing.

A few moments later, drink in hand, Christmas found herself making the rounds, being hugged, kissed, and occasionally groped by townsfolk. She watched Sasha try again to get Brad to dance with her. Eventually, he gave in on a slow song. Sasha practically glowed, but as they swayed, she could see Brad’s eyes on her, and she gave him a wink. Let Sasha have her dance.


The flames from the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the living room, Christmas drew the curtains. Brad set aside the poker and beckoned her over to the couch, where he wrapped them in the blanket and put his arm around her. Their noses touched, nuzzling in the firelight and the glow of the tree.

“Was I gentlemanly enough for you?” Brad asked.

“Single minded, aren’t you?” she jested and stroked his cheek.

“Hard not to be. You’re too gorgeous.”

Christmas was silent as he kissed her softly, then broke away and asked, “Do you ever want to stand in the line?”

“In the line? Like, the gift line at the festival?’ he asked.

She nodded, saying, “You were thinking it, too, weren’t you?”

He paused, nodded, and said, “Just remembering when it was us.”

“Did we lose some of that fascination with Christmas?” she asked.

“My fascination with Christmas is still going strong,” he said, and slid his hand into her waistband, teasing her skin.

“The holiday.”

“No way. It’s pretty impossible when you, literally, live in Christmas,” he said.

“Do you think you want kids?” she asked.

He shrugged and answered, “If I had to choose between kids and you, then no.”

“You’re sweet,” she said and kissed him again, her hand moving up his cheek to slide through his dark hair.

Brad’s own hand moved again, pushing down her pajama pants and sliding between her legs, his fingers tracing the warmth of her sex as she parted her legs for him. She purred softly into his mouth at the delicate touch, teasing the back of his neck, toying with the little hairs as their tongues played.

“You should take me upstairs,” she said, breathily.

Brad adjusted, putting his arms around her waist and, as he stood, she wrapped her legs around him. Christmas planted small kisses on his neck as he carried her, hands on her bottom, up the steps to the bedroom. The strength of him, to be able to carry her that distance, made her wet thinking about that same strength being used to pin her and fuck her. God, why did she insist on teasing them both? For a silly Christmas game?

No, not just that. It was still the small, nagging hint of uncertainty. Even as hot as he made her, knowing what he could do to her, the pleasure of it, she had to be sure it was right for both of them. There was that 1% of uncertainty, and it felt as though playing out the game would resolve it. That, and the game itself was tremendously hot.

Brad laid her down on the bed and aggressively yanked down her bottoms. She yelped at it and felt of flush of desire at the little show of animal dominance. As much as she wanted to play out the game, she found the display so goddamned sexy that if he’d simply pulled her panties aside and taken her, she would have made no objection. He didn’t, though. She could see the same want in him, but he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t push past that barrier without her say so.

That did not stop him from pulling off her panties and pressing his mouth between her legs, though. Ravenous, he sucked and licked at her, drinking from her like she was life itself. She shuddered, arched her back and squeaked as he hit the perfect spot. He felt it in her, knew it was right, and kept at it. His hands gripped her hips, held her in place as she wriggled against his tongue and it felt right, so right and perfect.

Her fists gripped the sheets as he growled into her, sending pleasant vibrations into the little bundle of nerves. The sound of the wet squishing, and not just from his tongue, sounded sexy in the darkness. She gasped as his work on her sent her up the peak, over, and then there was that spectacular, carnal explosion that made her squeeze her own breast as her mind shattered with the intensity of it. Lost in the wave, she tugged at him, pulling him up with her.

Christmas pushed him onto his back and put her mouth around his cock, his groan of pleasure only spurring her on. His head on the pillow, he breathed deeply as she put all her effort into making it as good for him as he’d done for her. When she deemed him sufficiently hard and wet for her purpose, she climbed on top of him. She tugged her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside as she spread her knees to either side of his hips. His hands rested on her, guiding her toward his cock, the need to be inside of her almost painful on his face.

That was not the game, though, as much as she wanted it herself. Instead, she trapped his cock between the lips of her pussy, sliding it back and forth along his length, coating his shaft in her arousal. She tossed back her head and rode him this way, rocking back and forth slowly along his cock, giving a small sigh each time his cockhead bumped against her clit. Fuck! It was torture of the most pleasant kind. One of his hands slid up her belly, palm flat, slowly creeping, until it held her breast.

Back and forth, back and forth, rhythmically she slid until she felt his aching cock jerking and ready to cum. His grip became tighter, and she looked down on him, with only the moonlight to show her his face, his need for her. She could have been blind and still felt it as powerfully, she thought, and then it happened. Her rhythm, her dance on his lap, pushed him over the edge and he groaned as he came, splashing her sex and his belly with his seed. Still she rode it, milking him, and a moment later she followed with her own pleasure. Her hips rocked, bucked, and her body trembled as he held her in the dark.


December 15th: Workshop

… He had me in his arms the moment my besties walked out the door. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was a fucking animal. My brother pinned me against the door so hard that I gasped. His big hands clawed at my jeans, tearing them open and popping the button. I heard it skid away across the floor.

Fuck! It was carnal, and it had my pussy gushing. His mouth pressed against mine, his tongue demanding that I reciprocate, and I did. Only too happily. He broke away only long enough to yank my torn jeans down. I hadn’t worn panties. Yes, I was fucking ready for it, ready for him. They couldn’t have left soon enough.

He pulled his own pants off as he stood. And then we were entangled again, our lips locked. His hands went to my ass, and I moaned into his kiss as he picked me up and impaled me on his cock. They were barely into their car and already he was balls deep in my pussy, fucking me against the door so hard that I heard the wreath fall to the porch. That just made it hotter.

My arms around his neck, I held on through the vigorous fucking, my brother’s fat cock plundering my treasure as I panted like a thirsty dog. That’s what I felt like. A dog. A bitch that he’d forced himself into, to satisfy the years of hunger I’d put him through. All those nights of dirty photos by text, the sexting, the phone sex, while I was away in school. The teasing had done exactly what I’d intended.

The entire drive home I’d thought about it, fantasized about it, and now it was everything I’d rubbed my pussy to for so many nights. Bodily, he lifted me up and down on his cock, taking his pleasure for all that teasing. But the pleasure was mine, as well, just as necessary. My pussy longed for it, ached to feel his body against mine, the strength and vigor that I’d come to crave.

I’d fucked boys in college, had a few that were fun. I’ve even told you about some of them. Nothing, though, was like this. None of them could match the ferocity with which my own brother fucked me. Not one of them was made for me, like he was made for me. His thrusting began to slow, even while his breathing increased, hot and ragged against my neck now. He was going to cum. My brother was going to cum in me.

It happened, quick as lightning, the first hot blast of his incestuous cream flooding my welcoming pussy. I gasped, bit at his neck playfully, and then the second shot triggered the full realization of what was happening. It was hot, and it was filthy. It made me cum so fucking hard. How he managed to hold on to me through the spasming, jerking of my body was lost on me. The only thing I could think about was the taboo ejaculation spilling into me, seeding me, maybe even impregnating me.

The idea was both terrifying and exciting. I’d given myself to him, unprotected, let him fill me. Soon, I could be walking around our hometown, carrying his child. What would I say? That I’d gotten knocked up in college, most likely. I’d raise my own brother’s child, all the while knowing exactly who it was, living a lie, even as I allowed him to continue to fuck me at his whim. Then what would I tell them the next time it happened? Because, as he grunted and pumped his cream into me, I knew that there would be a next time, and a next, and a next. I belonged to my hot brother.


Christmas saved the document and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to touch herself. Alright, so her homecoming hadn’t exactly happened that way, but she felt sure that her readers would well receive her indulgence. They always did. Typically, she was a rather linear writer, going from start to finish. This time, though, she was allowing her imagination to skip around, following her own fantasies. It wasn’t usual, but it felt right to do it this way.

She checked the time on the laptop. She’d been at it all morning and it was inching into the afternoon. Her stint in the workshop was in just two hours. That was more than enough time. She set the laptop aside and stripped off her clothes, then threw on a fuzzy robe.

Padding quietly from her room, she listened, then followed the sound of the TV to the living room, where she spied Brad on the couch, half-dozing. He was the perfect victim. She crept to the couch and reached for his shorts. Before he could come around and realize what was happening, she’d yanked them down and plunged her mouth down around his cock.

“Huh? What the—“ he stammered and nearly sat up.

The sight of his sister rabidly devouring his cock quickly relaxed him back into the couch with a groan, though, and his hand came to rest on her head.

“God,” he breathed, “I guess you were writing something kind of hot?”

Christmas purred around his cock, which was quickly hardening under her skillful ministrations.

“Guess I need to make sure you get in some writing every day,” he said, then sighed and enjoyed the fantastic dick sucking.

She licked and sucked, coating his cock in a wet sheen as her hand gently squeezed his balls. Her little fantasy, still playing over in her head, had her pussy desperate for him. Still, she teased herself, waiting for the right time. It couldn’t come soon enough. Brad, though, was cumming, and fast. She buried his cock in her throat, sealing her lips tight around his base, taking his first shot directly into her belly.

Brad quaked on the couch as he filled her up, firing off spurt after spurt of his cum into her. Christmas wondered when she’d become such a cumslut, because she was loving it. The feel of those hot blasts of incestuous seed coating her throat only made her hotter, naughtier, and she found herself eager to get back to the keys and write up an intense blowjob scene. Maybe something with a facial.

It was then that she decided she wanted one herself. She’d never done it for him, after all, and the idea was sexy and slutty. What would that be like? How hot and dirty would it be to take her brother’s full load to the face, maybe even let him take a video of it? She could suck his cock again later, while he watched himself plaster her face with his semen. Damn it, she was hot! Maybe teasing herself for days was a failing proposition. She wanted it. Badly.

Brad’s cock was spent now, but she continued sucking at it, intent on getting everything she could. There were still a few drops left. She made short work of those, finally releasing him and fighting the urge, again, to touch herself. She wanted to stay on this high, to be keyed up for tonight’s gift.

She rose, shrugged off the robe to further tease Brad, and was delighted by his open-mouthed stare. She stretched loudly, cocking her hips from side-to-side playfully. He reached for her, but she batted his hand away and then threw the robe over his head. By the time he pulled it off, she was gone.


The workshop was actually a barn on the outskirts of the town, where each year volunteers gathered to assemble gift packages. All year, the townsfolk and charitable people from all over sent in gifts that would be assembled into packages that were, then, shipped back out to families in neighboring towns and cities. The entire effort took the kind of logistical planning and organization that required someone with money and sense. That person was Ernest Gale, Marcy’s father.

Gale had earned his wealth through his trucking company, which later diversified into regional shipping across the Northeastern United States. Christmas, as with everyone in town, knew him on sight. The old man had nothing but a nice word to say to anyone and was, himself, in the workshop each day, right alongside the volunteers. How he’d managed to raise a brat of a girl like Marcy was beyond Christmas’ guess, but she supposed that Marcy was just his little girl. He had a hug for Christmas when she arrived.

“How are you, girl?” he asked in his deep, gruff tone.

“Great, Mr. Gale.”

“Remind me to thank that brother of yours for the trading advice. He set me up pretty good.”

Christmas nodded, agreeing, though she didn’t really know what he was on about. Brad’s head for money and numbers was not something she’d gotten. That had been their mother’s thing. She’d gotten the words from their father.

“Where can I pitch in?” she asked.

The old man looked around, spotted Marcy, and called her over. The rich girl finished packing a box, obviously displeased by the menial work, but ensnared in it by her sire, and walked over.

“Chris here needs a place to fill in. Why don’t you set her up?”

Marcy nodded and said, “Come, mascot,” snapping her fingers.

Christmas gritted her teeth and followed. Marcy walked her over to a large pile of merchandise, divided into two piles.

“I think the pet toys will be perfect for you,” Marcy said, grinning. “There are far more human toys, so this section is languishing. Now, there are two piles,” she said, her pitch rising, as though instructing a child, “One is for kitties and one is for doggies. Just put one toy and one treat for each into the box, seal it up, and then put a little sticker with the right animal on it. Can you do that?”

“It seems very complex, but I think I’ll manage.”

“Good girl,” Marcy said, and patted her head.

Christmas picked up a dog toy in the shape of a bone, handed it to her, and said, “This looks like an appropriate gift for a bitch. You seem like you could use a good bone.”

Marcy scowled, reddened, then tightened her lips and stalked away. Pleased with herself, Christmas began packing the small boxes. It was boring work, but gratifying. Homeless pets needed Christmas cheer, too, after all.


After four hours of packing the boxes, she felt like she’d barely made a dent in the big piles. The two big stacks of finished packages, though, said otherwise. She gave a long stretch and then found Earnest.

“Mr. Gale,” she said.

He turned.

“Could I buy a small stack of the gifts for the shelter? I owe Diane a favor for making my dress,” she explained.

“Right enough, honey,” the big man said, nodding, “Tell you what. Do another hour and whatever you pack up in that time, you can haul over to the shelter. That good?’

“Thank you,” she said, and returned to the piles.

At the end of the hour, Kellen Miller helped her pack up her finished packages and put them into one of Mr. Gale’s waiting semi trucks. Then they loaded the remainder she’d done into her car.

“Say, Chris,” Kellen said, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. Christmas knew what was coming. Inevitably, it was going to happen.

“Do you suppose, I mean, if you aren’t already going with someone,” Kellen stammered, “Maybe you’d like to be my partner for the dance?”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, saying, “You’re a sweetheart, Kel. If I was going with anyone, It’d be you. I just—“ she paused.

What was she? What was the right way to say no?’

She resumed, “I left some pretty complicated feelings back at school. I don’t really want to get anymore right now. You understand, right?”

Kellen nodded, blushing cutely, and said, “Yeah. Oh, yeah. I get you.”

“You can have the first one, though,” she added quickly, “after the pageant.”

“Yeah! That’s a deal, Chris,” he agreed.

“Thanks for the hand with the boxes,” she said.

He nodded, and Christmas got into the car. She made the drive over to the shelter, which also served as the veterinarian’s office. Inside, she found Mrs. Winslow at the desk. The veterinarian’s wife looked up and smiled at her when she walked in.

“Look at you all grown up,” the woman said, rounding the desk and hugging her. “What brings you in? Looking to adopt?”

Christmas returned the embrace and said, “No. I brought some gifts by for the shelter. From Mr. Gale.”

“Bless the man, but that’s kind,” the woman said, touched, “Let me help you get them in. Dale’s making the rounds and feeding right now.”

The two of them hauled in the boxes and set them in the little lobby.

“Will you stop in and help give them out when we do the Pick-a-Pet?” Mrs. Winslow asked.

“Of course!” Christmas agreed.


While she drove home, she called Brad.

“Got any plans for dinner?” she asked.


“I’ll stop in town and bring something back. Alright?” she asked.

“You’re the best!”

“I know. Maybe you can thank me later?” she teased.


She brought home dinner, and they ate it in the little dining room, but as they dined Christmas looked at the empty chairs and remembered. Seven years, but not one of them passed without that feeling of missing pieces, the others that should have been around that table. It was never so obvious as at this time of year, when so many others were gathering with families, that she and Brad no longer had one. They had each other and two empty seats at a table.

“What is it?” Brad asked, setting his food aside, intuiting her feeling from her expression.

“Can we go visit them tomorrow?” she asked, looking at the chairs.

“Of course,” he said and rounded the table, kissing her head. “Let’s grab a wreath in town and we can go whenever you want.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand.

“I think I’m finished,” she said.

She cleared the remains of the meal away quietly with Brad’s help and, for a while, they lay on the couch together watching the holiday shows. As the evening wore on, she finally broke the silence.

“You know,” she said, “I had this really awesome gift for you tonight. If it’s okay with you, though, I think I’d just like you to hold me a while longer.”

He held her tighter and said, “All you want. If you want to stay like this until we’re old and gray, that’s just fine with me.”

In silence, they lay by the light of the fire, but the silence was not an awkward thing, she thought. It was perfect.


December 16th: Visitation

The drive out to the town cemetery was not a long one, and Hank’s plows had kept the road free of snow. That was just like Hank, she thought, as Brad drove. Even though the road was rarely used, he considered the fact that people might want to drive out to look at headstones. She considered that, while the city had been a nice adventure, there really was nothing like a small town community. Even if it had a Marcy Gale.

Brad eased the car to the cemetery gates, where the plows had stopped, and the two of them left the heat of the vehicle. The cold seemed appropriate for such a place, Christmas thought, as she held Brad’s hand and tromped through the snow. You wanted your loved ones to be resting in warmth and comfort, somewhere, but when you visited, you wanted it to feel miserable. At least, that was how she felt it should be.

She carried a Christmas wreath in one hand, and they walked among the snow-capped tombstones, a hundred and more years of stories, those that had built the town into what it was today. Each of them, like her and Brad, was a piece of that workshop. It was like the barn, only they were giving the world their work and their words, the kind of gifts that would succeed them, like all those here, in the cold ground.

They found their parent’s plots, side-by-side.

“Eileen and Mark Carol,” they read, “Never forgotten and always cherished in Christmas.”

On the top of the shared headstone, not quite as worn as all the rest, sat a poinsettia, fresh, green and red. Their mother’s favorite. Christmas wondered who had put it there. She placed the wreath at the base of the stone and stood with Brad, hands intertwined, silently.

“Merry Christmas dad, mom,” she said to the stillness, “I just got home from school. I wish you could have come down to see it. The south is a lot different from up here. Most of them haven’t even seen snow. Christmas without snow? It wasn’t even Christmas. Not the same, anyway. I got stranded on the road coming back, but Tommy Miller stopped and helped me make it home. I know that you’re probably disappointed that I wasn’t prepared, but Hank made sure I have a new spare and a jack in the trunk now. Brad’s still taking good care of me. I’m really grateful for him.”

Brad put his arm around her shoulder and held her as she sniffled, wiped at her eyes.

“It’s never quite the same without you guys. You know, Christmas. I just hope that they have a huge tree in heaven, like the one here, and that it’s…” she struggled, choked, “and that it’s like Christmas all the time.”

The tears broke, cooling quickly in the wind’s whip. She buried her face in Brad’s chest and her heart swelled at the rush of gratitude for his arms around her, holding her like safety. He didn’t say a word, which is exactly what she needed.

*** December 17th: Tree Festival

Though her passions had been cool throughout the day, after visiting their parents’ graves, Christmas was running hot again by the next morning. She awoke before Brad, reluctant to leave the warmth of the blankets. The clock on the bedside table showed just after eight. With no urgent need to get up and around, she let herself enjoy Brad’s arms around her and the soft sigh of his breath against her neck.

Not for the first time, she wanted nothing about this to be taboo. If two people were consenting, happy in their relationship, what was the harm in it? Alternative lifestyles were gaining support and acceptance all over the world. Familial relations, though? That was still a dirty thing.

Herself, she found nothing all that dirty about the feel of his bare chest against her, or anything wrong with his arm around her, holding her close and making her feel safe and loved. It was beautiful, and it was sweet. Had he been anyone else, no one observing the two of them in this moment would have given it a second thought. Instead, it was a secret that could ruin their lives.

That same secret, the nature of it, also made it hot and sexy. It was a weird dichotomy. The thing she wanted to be seen as normal would lose some of what made it erotic, if it had been normal. That was her life, though. Nothing about it was normal. They did not hold normal people up as the living embodiment of a town’s spirit, just because of their name. Normal people didn’t fall for their brother. Normal people didn’t write erotic fantasies about it to sell to strangers while masquerading under an assumed name.

She shifted, turning over and dislodging Brad’s hand, waking him in the process. Sleepily, he gave her a tired smile, which she kissed and snuggled closer. His hand went back around her and she enjoyed the moment, softly kissing him in the silence of the morning. Eventually, though, they had to go out and pretend.

“I’m going to shower,” she whispered, as though a normal voice would somehow break the magic.

“You want some company?” Brad asked, sliding his hand down her back.

“I do, but I won’t have it. If you get in there with me, we’re going to end up late. Tonight,” she said, “I owe you some gifts, since I was kind of a bummer the last few nights.”

“You’re never a bummer,” Brad said. “You have a heart, and it’s only part of what makes you beautiful.”

She kissed him again and flung back the blanket, groaning at the chill. While the cold was just part of being home, she thought that living in the south certainly had its perks.


Christmas Tree Grove was a cleared plot of land in the town’s heart, nearby Christmas Green. Anyone who wanted to participate in the annual tree festival was welcome, paying a fee to the town, and then being provided with a tree to decorate. Tomorrow night, all those trees would be lit up and on display, like a forest of light and cheer.

The St. Mary’s choir would sing, and visitors would cast their votes for a winner. That winner would have their photo taken with their tree, which would then be added to the town’s records. The photos, going back a hundred years, were displayed in the Hall of Records, which sat next to City Hall. It was a point of local pride, one which was slowly being digitized and added to the town’s website to share with the world. On New Year’s Eve, they would burn the trees in yet another annual tradition, just one of those many days that made the town of Christmas what it was.

Brad pulled a sled, stacked with boxes of decorations and lights, along the snow toward their plot. Sasha, Leah, and Christmas all carried a box. After parking the sled by their bare tree, Brad went for a ladder, leaving the girls to unpack boxes and lay things out on a nearby tarp.

A few plots away, Christmas spied Marcy and her friends, who were already busy with their own. Mainly, their efforts comprised Jason decorating their tree, while the three girls gossiped, and occasionally handed him something. Christmas shook her head and wondered at Jason’s fealty to the bitchy girls. She hoped he was at least getting laid by one of them for all the effort he put into them.

Naturally, Marcy’s tree was topped with a gorgeous (and likely expensive) ivory angel that would certainly put her own trusty, weathered, golden star to shame. Of course, Marcy’s tree was also the tallest.

“Probably had Jason go out and chop that big fucker down all by himself,” Leah said, following her gaze as she looked up at the ivory angel.

“I imagine they tied a harness to him and made him drag it back, while Marcy whipped him like a reindeer,” Sasha added.

Marcy noticed them staring and flashed them a superior smirk, leaned down, made a snowball, and then tossed it. It fell a little short. Christmas quickly made her own, launched it, and Marcy had to duck out of the way. A third struck Sasha on the shoulder, thrown by Julia. Leah gave Carry one that hit her square in the chest.

Within seconds, they were embroiled in a snowball fight that had them all ducking behind trees and shouting. Christmas dodged, ducked, and threw, pelting Julia in the back, but caught one from Carry on the shoulder, while she was distracted. She shrieked as the attention of all three opponents turned on her. Dodging skillfully, she heard Brad cry out in surprise as Marcy’s snowball hit him in the face.

The flurry of snow stopped at once and Marcy looked embarrassed, shouting, “Sorry, Brad!” from across the distance. Brad set the ladder down and wiped at his face, but waved back without a reply.

“Damn it,” he said, laughing, “I leave you three alone for ten minutes and you start a war.”

“Marcy started it,” Leah whined, “We were just defending our castle.”

Brad opened the ladder and said, “Let’s get started!”

Leah held the ladder for him as he climbed, and Sasha passed the first string of lights upward. He fastened the end on the top of the tree. Christmas looped it around the tree until the string ran out. She clipped the end, and then Brad moved the ladder around, attached a second string to the first, and continued the process.

The entire process took a couple of hours to complete, but Brad was finally satisfied that all the lighting was spaced correctly and secure. While the girls went to work on the lower part of the tree, hanging decorations, Brad worked on the top, while each of them took turns holding the ladder steady for him. At last, he topped it with the old, golden star. This little piece went back to the first years their family had moved into the town, and it was just as much a tradition as the rest of them.

Once it was finished, Brad plugged the lights into the outlet stand on their plot and watched it all come to life. He stood back, holding hands with Christmas and Sasha, while Leah held Sasha’s other. In silence, they took in the finished project, pleased. Of course, Marcy’s gorgeous tree seemed to outshine all the others. Christmas couldn’t help but think their own looked like a Charlie Brown Christmas special next to it.


Brad’s cock jumped at the sight of his sister in a set of Christmas red lingerie, crawling across the living room floor like a cat, while the fire danced behind her. After the whole day outside, decorating their tree and taking in the town with Sasha and Leah, that heat was more than welcome. Hotter still was the girl in red, who was now sliding her hands up his legs toward the waistband of his lounge pants.

“Now, that is a gift I’d like to unwrap every day,” he remarked.

Christmas tugged at the pants and got them down. Brad stepped out of them and watched her as she stroked his cock with wide eyes. The lingerie had been a purchase before leaving school, and it made Christmas feel ridiculously sexy. By the reaction from her brother’s cock, she could tell he felt the same.

“Do you have your phone?” she asked.

He leaned over to the couch and picked it up.

“I want you to record this,” she said.

“You sure? That’s… dangerous ground,” he said.

“How many naked pictures of me do you have on it?” she asked, grinning.

“None. I keep those on a drive on the computer. You know, for… posterity.”

“I sincerely doubt that our ancestors will be interested in naked photos of me,” she laughed. “Just admit that you jerk off to them. That’s way hotter.”

“Okay,” he said, “I jerked off to them. A lot.”

“Record it,” she said again.

He nodded and started. Christmas licked the length of his cock, staring up at the camera. She planted small kisses on it, toying with every inch with her lips. Brad held the phone steady, angled down at her, while she slowly licked and kissed it. Before long, she was sucking on the head, and then swallowing it, slowly swirling her tongue around it as she looked into the camera.

With only her mouth, she worshipped it like it was her God, making love to his erection with everything she had. Her half-lidded eyes showed pure joy at the action, as well as a barely concealed lust for him. She took him deep, held him there, massaged his cockhead with her throat, making his penis jerk. She wasn’t counting the time, just enjoying pleasing him, the feel of his hot, hard length sexy. His growls and groans were like a dirty music, somehow hypnotic, tapping into that primal urge to satisfy him.

Her skillful sucking went on for a long while, while Brad recorded it, until she could feel him holding back his need. She increased her effort, sucking him faster, moaning around it like a hungry slut. The wet sound of her mouth around his cock seemed loud in the otherwise quiet room. Finally, he couldn’t hold it back. Christmas pulled his cock from her mouth and stroked it wetly, and then he gasped as the first explosion of cum streaked across her face. She flinched at the blast and moaned hotly, then took the second on her tongue. A third coated her lips.

“So sexy,” Brad sighed, “Fuck, you’re so hot, Chris!”

She let him empty himself onto her face, flushed and hot at taking her first incestuous facial. She sealed her lips around his cock again and drained him, polishing it clean as she looked into the camera with ropes of cum decorating her face.

Once she had him drained, she scooped the cum from her face with her fingers and sucked them noisily for the camera, saying, breathily, between sucks, “I love my brother’s cum. I want to suck my brother’s cock for him every day.”


December 18th: Pick-a-Pet

For a town with a population just over 5,000, Christmas had a surprising number of homeless animals. Christmas, Sasha, and Leah were wet and dirty in the back of the shelter, helping to wash and dry dogs. It was like an assembly line. While Christmas and Leah bathed the dogs, Sasha dried off a finished one with a towel, then passed it along to Mrs. Winslow who went at the excited animals with a hair dryer. That done, they moved along to Mr. Winslow, who gave them each a bow.

As she washed the dogs, Christmas got a small twinge of satisfaction at watching Marcy struggle with putting bows on the cats. The rich girl, obviously disgusted at having to do this year after year, fortunately had little say in the matter. Mr. Gale wouldn’t hear of her skipping out on it. Christmas knew Marcy had also gone away to school in Northern Michigan, and she wondered why she didn’t just come after all the jobs she hated doing were over. Likely, this too had something to do with her father.

Right now, Marcy was having particular trouble with a feisty cat, who was not at all happy about the bow and was hissing his displeasure at Marcy for her repeated attempts to put it around his neck. Christmas finished rinsing her current dog, a friendly little thing, and passed him along to Sasha. The cheerful dog wagged his tail as she toweled him off, then sent him on to the hair dryer, which he was not as fond of.

The entire process took up the morning, after which the four girls finished decorating the shelter for the coming visitors. Christmas set a stack of animal gifts next to the front door, through which people would file, and then take the gifts to give to the animals. It was silly, and it was cute, just as most things were in Christmas at Christmas.

The pick-a-pet was another well-known tradition and was just as popular in the area. For a month before the event, Mrs. Winslow was advertising it on the town’s website, and even traveling to nearby towns and cities to post flyers. The woman’s dedication to placing pets in homes was admirable, she thought. Christmas, herself, had resisted the repeated attempts of Mrs. Winslow to get her to adopt for many years.

Just after nine, the doors of the shelter opened to the public and Christmas could already tell that Mrs. Winslow’s advertising had been successful. At least two dozen vehicles were already outside, waiting. Leah and Christmas stood by the doors and welcomed in singles, couples, and parents with children, both local and out-of-towners. Each of them received a present, and either Marcy, Julia, or Carry would show them toward the back of the shelter.

The sounds of happy dogs barking reached them at the front throughout the day. Mrs. Winslow would occasionally fill out paperwork at the desk with an adoptee, and then the new owner would leave with a rescued pet. Each time it happened, Christmas felt a small glow and a brief pang of sadness. Having spent the entire morning around all the dogs, it was difficult not to like them all. Each year she’d done this, it was also a struggle not to take one home. The happy tails wagging as the dogs were carried out or walked away on leashes, wearing the bows and carrying a toy in their mouths, or the meowing of cheerful cats, was just another little reason that she found to love her home.

The event lasted into the early evening, before the influx of people had died away. The shelter had sent thirty animals to new homes and Mrs. Winslow was ebullient. Even Marcy looked happy about the result. Mrs. Winslow, before closing the shelter for the night, signed papers for one further adoption, and Christmas watched as Marcy left with the troublesome cat.

“I guess troublesome pussy attracts troublesome pussy,” Leah muttered, and Sasha giggled.

The three of them left together and drove back into town. They met Brad in town for a quick dinner, before walking down Main to Christmas Tree Grove to light their tree. A light snow fell as they chattered and nodded to passersby along the sidewalks. The entire town was alight with color and life. Visitors and locals both, old friends and new, strolled the sidewalks and dined in the restaurants. Through the shop windows, she saw lines of gift buyers supporting the town with purchases.

No matter how many times she walked down this street, in the heat of summer, the rain of spring, the chill of autumn, or the cold of winter, there was a feeling of warmth and invitation. There might be chaos in the rest of the world, just as there had been chaos and distance in the big city, but here in Christmas there was friendship and… family.

“You know I love you guys, right?” she blurted, and took Sasha and Leah’s hands, then looked over her shoulder at Brad and said, “You’re alright, too.”

He grinned. The three of them swung their hands back and forth.

“Yeah,” Sasha said, “There’s nothing like Christmas in Christmas, especially when you get to spend it with Christmas.”

“Are we, like, gonna go lez out together now?” Leah asked.

“I don’t love you that much,” Christmas said, “But I’d totally let you do me.”

“You three are gonna melt the snow with that talk,” Brad cut in.

Christmas stuck out her tongue at him. They entered Christmas Tree Grove, where Brad refused to light their tree without a proper drumroll. They relented and watched him plug in the lights, then clapped as it lit up in the dark, alongside the others.

They walked among the trees, looking at the work of all the other participants. The Tree Festival had drawn quite a crowd and continued to attract more passersby as they walked through the town and enjoyed the holiday atmosphere. Each of the trees had a ticket dispenser planted in the ground. As they walked, each of them picked their favorite. Finally, they came to Marcy’s tree. Christmas supposed it was actually Jason’s tree, seeing as he’d done most of the work, but the result was gorgeous. She peeled off a ticket, noting that many had already been taken.

“You’re not!” Sasha gasped.

“What?” she said, “I mean, look at it. It’s like a rocket flame next to a candle!”

“You’re going to make Marcy’s head bigger than her boobs,” Leah whined.

“Her boobs aren’t that big,” Christmas said. “I’m pretty sure her ego is already bigger.”

“But, like, her stupid face is going to hang in the Hall of Records for a million years. Do you really want that to be your contribution to history?” Leah asked.

“If it’s an honest one, then she deserves it,” Christmas said, shrugging.

They continued walking, dropping their tickets in the box for tallying. Finally, they parted ways for the night and Christmas rode home with Brad. Dealing with the animals most of the day had taken her energy, and she dozed on Brad’s shoulder, in the bench seat of his truck. At home, he carried her up the walk as she giggled tiredly, and even up the stairs, where he put her into bed. She was asleep before he even turned out the lights.


December 19th: Float Decoration

Brad stood in front of the bedroom door, blocking her way in the morning.

“You’re not leaving this room until you’ve ridden my face to an orgasm,” he said, smirking.

“That’s a hell of a demand,” she said, grinning back, “Alright, but you better be very skillful with that tongue. I need to help decorate the float.”

She squeaked as he lifted her over his shoulder and deposited her back on the bed. Unnecessary, she thought, but fun. Brad lay on his back while Christmas climbed on top of him and pressed her hot pussy to his mouth. His hands covered her bottom, gripping her cheeks and pulling her down. His tongue slipped easily through the moistness of her slit, making her gasp at the pleasure of it.

“Does your little sister taste sexy?” she teased as she slowly rocked herself on his tongue.

Brad hummed into her as she used him, cupping her breast in one hand and putting her other against the wall for balance. Her legs shook as she held herself up and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm, letting the pleasure build. Goddamn, his tongue was fucking magic. He held her and ground it against her clit, drawing out her orgasm in a furious rush of panting ecstasy that had her quaking with the release. Even after it was over, he kept at her, and she didn’t have the will to deny him a second one.


In just two days, the town would hold the Christmas parade, a showy display of floats and music. While Christmas parades were a common thing, the town drew quite a crowd purely from its name. The influx of visitors would nearly double on this day alone, before it thinned in the days leading up to Christmas Eve. Christmas herself, along with the other girls taking part in the pageant, would find themselves on the floats in their dresses, a sort of preview before the pageant itself.

Other volunteers had been making headway on the floats over the last week, but the work never seemed to end. Christmas found Sasha and Leah already at work on one of the floats. Sasha was stapling a length of long tinsel down the edge of one float, which sat atop a flat trailer. Leah, meanwhile, stood on the top of the float, attaching glittering stars. To the side stood a display of nativity figurines that would be mounted on the top at the end.

“Look who decided to show up!” Sasha said, standing and popping her back.

“Sorry,” Christmas apologized, “I overslept.”

“You can help me layer this tinsel,” Sasha said, handing her a staple gun and a length of tinsel.

Across the barn, Christmas saw Marcy and her friends working on a massive, glowing monument to holiday cheer. The gigantic float was built on top of a long trailer, likely provided by Mr. Gale for his little girl. They’d covered the huge thing in glittering red and green, streaked with gold and silver. Waiting to be mounted on top were three chairs, which Christmas could only have described as thrones. One of these, naturally, was far more elaborate than the other two.

Christmas could already guess who would be seated on that throne. She did not see one for Jason, though, and imagined him standing at the side of the three women, waiting to serve. Around the barn were two other floats for the other pageant girls, each of them equipped for three women.

“What are you performing for the pageant?” Sasha asked as they worked.

“Nothing special,” Christmas answered.

“Dancing? Singing? You don’t play an instrument.”

“Chris doesn’t have to dance or sing,” Leah called down. “She just gets to wave and win.”

“I wrote a poem,” she said, “and I’m not some guaranteed win. You two need to stop that. You have a long line of admirers. It’s your own fault for fixating on the ones you can’t have.”

“What’s with your brother, anyway?” Sasha asked. “He’s a super hunk, but he doesn’t even show the slightest interest in anyone. Woman or man.”

Christmas shrugged, fired a staple into the float, and said, “Discussing my brother’s sex life isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

She felt a hot flush as she said it, remembering the feel of his tongue making her cum only a short time ago.

“I heard Kellen Miller asked you to the dance,” Sasha said, “and that you turned him down.”

“How did you hear that?” Christmas asked.

“He’s been moping about it for a couple days,” Sasha explained.

“I’m not ready to jump in and get involved with anyone, and that’s what Kellen’s after,” Christmas said, then asked, “Who are you going with?”

“I’m going solo,” Sasha said sadly. “If it’s not Brad, then I’ll just die alone. Woe is me,” she lamented.

The words stung Christmas. It was not as though she could change her own feelings, or Brad’s, nor Sasha’s. It was just… hurtful, she guessed, to be something that stood in the way of her friend being happy.

“What about you?” Sasha called up to Leah.

“Kristine Marks,” she said.

“Really?” Christmas said. “I thought she and Liz were a thing?”

“Not for, like, over a year. Us lesbos are a pretty small pool in Christmas, so I do not have a long line of admirers.”

“What about Megan?” Christmas asked.

Leah shook her head. “Moved to New York. You know,” she mused, “maybe we should just start a little femme commune. Since there’s only five of us and we’ve all been with each other anyway, it wouldn’t be too weird. Would it?”

“Everything you do is weird,” Sasha said.

“Nothing weird about what this tongue can do,” Leah said, grinning.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Sasha said, laughing.

“What about you, Chris? Wanna stretch your lesbian legs?” Leah joked.

“Sorry, honey. I like my lovers gruff, muscular, dark-haired and with different plumbing,” Christmas said.

“Like Brad,” Sasha sighed, wistfully.

How right you are, Christmas thought, hiding a blush.


With only a stop for lunch, the girls finished their float late in the afternoon. Once again, they met with Brad for dinner in town before the announcement of the Tree Festival winner. The streets were even more packed than the previous night, as were the shops and restaurants. They managed to get a table for the four of them at Lexington’s, an upscale Italian place that had become a town favorite since Bruce Lexington and his wife had moved in a decade ago.

While they waited for their food, Christmas felt Brad’s hand on her leg beneath the table. Sasha and Leah bantered about their guesses for the Tree Festival winner, but Christmas suddenly felt very hot. Brad’s hand crept between her legs, boldly, and she parted them, giving him a glare but doing nothing to stop him. Quite the opposite. Her body seemed to want to encourage him to touch her dangerously.

His fingers pressed against her pussy through her jeans, and she felt a flush in her cheeks. Damn it! She’d been teasing them both for too long. He was getting impatient and in a risky way. She tried to ignore him and pretended to listen to Sasha and Leah, but the distraction of her brother rubbing her pussy in public wasn’t making it easy. Finally, she had to stand and excuse herself.

“You okay?” Brad asked, a hint of a smile on his face. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine. Just a little warm.”

She splashed cold water on her face in the restroom and took a minute to breathe. Damn him, she thought. It was wicked, and it was cruel, but she couldn’t deny the flutter in her stomach at the risk. Too risky, though. Composed, she returned to the table. Brad did not attempt to tease her again.

After dinner, and with the sun going down, the four of them stood in Christmas Green. The town’s massive tree was alight and beautiful, with carolers singing as people assembled for the results. Nearby, Christmas spotted Marcy, who was holding and stroking the cat in her arms. The animal was wearing a little sweater. Apparently, they’d gotten over their differences.

On his way to the tree, Mayor Tinsley, dressed in his Santa costume, stopped next to Christmas. She sighed, already knowing what was coming. It was time for him to trot out the mascot.

“Could father Christmas convince you to read the results?” he asked, grinning.

“How could I refuse?” she asked sarcastically.

Tinsley took her hand in his mitten, and they walked to the front of the crowd, who clapped for her and whistled. Marcy did not.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Tinsley laughed, “Merry Christmas!”

The crowd made the customary reply.

“The Tree Festival,” he said, “has its roots in the town’s founding,” he paused to allow for the obligatory chuckle at the pun, “This year, I am pleased to announce that we’ve received a record donation of $9,800!”

The crowd clapped again, and Christmas joined them.

“For over one hundred years, the town of Christmas has celebrated the holiday with a festival of light. We’re blessed to be a town of tradition, and to have neighbors that love it almost as much as the people who live here. Every entrant has put love and care into their tree, adding their unique light to that of the others. To announce the winning entry, we have our own town’s namesake, Christmas Carol!”

Christmas gave the crowd a wave and received a further round of applause. How quickly, she wondered, would those claps turn to jeers, had they only known the truth? She dismissed the thought and held up the envelope containing the entry. Tinsley unclipped his microphone and clipped it to her coat.

“The winner of this year’s Tree Festival is…” she paused and opened the envelope, read it, and announced excitedly, “Marcy Gale!”

The assembled crowd applauded, and Marcy turned to wave, holding the cat in one arm. Christmas handed the microphone back to the mayor.

“Thank you, Christmas,” he said, “and congratulations Marcy! If you’ll join your tree, we’ll have it recorded for the Hall of Records. As long as Christmas stands, your effort will light the holidays.”

More like Jason’s effort, Christmas thought, but did not voice it. Instead, she slunk away to rejoin Brad and the girls.

“Well done,” Brad said.

“Inspiring,” Sasha remarked.

“Brought a tear to my eye,” Leah added.

“Oh, be quiet,” Christmas said.

Together, they watched Marcy depart to have her photo taken with the tree.

*** Christmas came to bed naked, watching Brad’s eyes watch her as she slid beneath the covers. She yawned and spooned into him, wiggling her ass against his cock teasingly.

“Good night,” she said and shut her eyes.

A moment later, the light clicked off and Brad’s hand went around her. A second later, the hand was roaming across her skin.

“You were very naughty tonight,” she said into the dark.

He chuckled and continued roaming until he found one of her breasts and cupped it.

“That was dangerous,” she said. “We can’t do that.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to help myself,” he said into her ear, kissing her neck.

“I can forgive you, because you’re sweet,” she said and turned over to kiss him.

The remembered feeling of his fingers pressing into her sex so brazenly in the restaurant had kept her hot all evening. She took his hand from her hip and moved it to her pussy, parting her legs for him, encouraging him to touch it. His fingers caressed her folds, found them wet and warm. The sensation made him growl into her mouth as he rubbed her slit.

Christmas purred happily and ran her fingers into his hair. His touch was skillful and soft, drawing forth her arousal and making her push her pussy against his fingers. Her slick honey coated them, made it easy for him to push them into her. She squeaked pleasantly at their entry and arched her back. Releasing his mouth, she lay back and let him play with her.

Brad’s mouth found her breast and his tongue flicked one of her nipples lightly, then beat a rhythm on it that made her tingle. Occasionally, he’d suck it into his mouth, while his fingers sawed into her sex, pushing upwards and against her spot, making her buck with the sensation. Then, he’d pull them back out and rub her clit while he continued to toy with her breast.

“Yes…” she moaned quietly, as his fingers pushed back into her, filling her up, opening her to his touch.

Brad worked them easily in and out of her now, the friction building her up. His hand rubbed firmly against her clit as he moved them in and out of her faster, harder, all the while keeping time on her nipple. Her breath came in soft gasps, punctuated with delirious giggles as the pleasure intensified, until it was a wave of ardent desire that she couldn’t fight.

Her hand released the grip on the sheet and found his cock, held it, stroked it, and then gripped it as she came. He kissed her again, hard, as if sucking the pleasure out of her as her body jerked, all the while keeping that pleasurable stroke up on her pussy. Damn him for being so good at it, she thought. How was she going to hold out for four more nights of this?


December 20th: Christmas Olympics

Brad and Christmas arrived at the carefully laid out Christmas Olympic Grounds just outside of town, early in the morning. The silly competition benefited both the locals and the visitors. For the locals, the prizes were purely for esteem. The town’s standings and records went back just over fifty years, cataloging the winners of such events as sledding, ski races, ice skating races, snowman building contests, and other silly sports. For the visitors, they gave prizes out as gift certificates for local businesses, an encouragement to spend further dollars in the local economy.

Christmas signed herself up for a sled race and ice-skating race, then accepted hot chocolate from Harry Linkman, who had set up a table with snacks and hot drinks. The first round of racers trudged up the steep slope of Mount Christmas, little more than a high hill, but the largest one around town. Taking up her saucer sled, she paired off against one of Marcy’s cohorts, Julia, for the first race. They settled in at the starting line. At the bottom of the hill, she could see Brad and Mayor Tinsley, stopwatches in hand.

Tommy Miller, the youngest of the Miller boys and her roadside savior, stood ready to count down. The mayor waved a red flag, showing readiness. Christmas pulled her scarf tight over her face and cinched down her hat, then placed her gloved hands in the snow. Tommy counted down from five and then blew on his whistle. The racers shoved off, rocketing down the slope with a whoop. Legs first, Christmas leaned back, and the sled picked up speed. The meltwater was perfect today, and the lubricated bottom of the saucer slid easily over it, bouncing over the bumps as she held the straps.

Julia’s sled did a spin as it leapt over a large mound of tightly packed snow, but she recovered, and they were nearly even a second later. Christmas leaned further, but misjudged just how far. The sled hit another large bump, and she shrieked as it flipped backward, sending her rolling a few feet down the hill as the saucer sped away, riderless. She heard Julia cackle at her misfortune. A series of groans reached her from top and bottom, then a chorus of cheers as she got to her feet and waved.

A further round of cheers accompanied Julia’s crossing of the finish line. Marcy, Jason, and Carry surrounded her, all of them congratulating her on the win. Christmas trudged down the rest of the hill, retrieved the sled, and then made her way over. Grudgingly, she put out her hand.

“Nice finish,” she said.

Julia looked at her hand, then took it, but said nothing. Honor satisfied, Christmas trudged back to stand with the rest of the observers. Sasha handed her cocoa.

“You’re not going down?” Christmas asked.

“I’m up at the end.”

Christmas walked away and, for a while, watched the children building snowmen, then caught the second round of ice skaters, then returned to the sleds. Leah had won the second round. The competition dwindled down until Julia ended with the prize, beating out Marcy and cementing her place in the town’s rankings for the year.

Just after snacks for lunch, Christmas faced off against Marcy in an ice-skating race across the lake. This heat would put one of them in the semi-finals. They shook hands at the starting bank and waited. The whistle blew, and the two of them pushed off. Knees bent and leaning forward, Christmas stroked across the frozen lake. She already knew, from previous years, that Marcy’s victory was practically assured. While a competent skater herself, she’d never had the knack for it that Marcy had.

Marcy quickly took a lead on her, then pulled ahead. She stroked and Marcy swizzled, just for show, casting a quick glance back at her and smirking beneath her helmet. Christmas cringed and pushed harder, gaining, but still behind. Overcome with her superiority, Marcy then made a flourish that Christmas knew was potentially disastrous from the moment she saw it coming. Marcy should have known better, but she was feeling arrogant and untouchable.

“Don’t!” she shouted, but Marcy had already done it.

She did a Salchow, taking off from the back inside edge of one skate, intending to land on the back outside edge of the other. It was showy, and it was stupid. It was Marcy. Marcy completed the jump perfectly, and if this had been a figure skating competition, she’d have earned some marks. The landing, though, resulted in a loud crack that made Christmas skid to a stop. Marcy shrieked, and then Marcy was gone.

Christmas had only time to blink as the girl went through the ice. She heard shouts and cries from either bank. Quickly, she sat, tugged at her laces, and tossed the skates. She crawled on her belly toward the hole that Marcy had vanished through.

“Chris!” she heard Brad, Sasha, and Leah all shouting.

She approached the hole, her heart hammering, looked about quickly, then sucked in a breath. You didn’t live in a winter town and not get lessons in what to do when you fell through ice, but it hadn’t happened as long as she’d been alive. Still, the old lessons came back, the same lessons that Marcy should have known. She only hoped that Marcy had remembered the ones about cold shock better than the one about not jumping on an icy lake while wearing heavy skates.

Bracing herself for the shock, she went through the hole. The frozen water was an immediate and paralyzing thing, her body telling her to breathe rapidly as her blood pressure and adrenaline surged. She fought the reaction with a mental effort, looked up to where the sunlight fell through the hole in the ice. Marcy, to her credit, hadn’t panicked as badly as Christmas thought. She was kicking her way up, but the skates were making it difficult, nearly impossible. Getting them off, though, was equally impossible.

Christmas gauged that about a minute had passed since she went under, meaning the cold shock was just beginning to wear off. Still, there wasn’t much time. Just a small drop in body temperature and they were in real danger. She kicked down, reached for Marcy, and grabbed her hand, yanking her up. Together, they kicked toward the surface until they reached it. Submerged, she pushed Marcy upward, her muscles wanting to seize up. Marcy scrabbled up and over the ice, rolling away, shaking.

Christmas broke the surface and gasped, clawed at the ice, and then Marcy was helping to drag her over. Marcy’s entire body trembled. Christmas, not much better off, pushed her away from the hole until she felt confident that they were out of danger from falling back through. She gathered the other girl up, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her toward the bank, where paramedics were already making their own way out onto the ice.

Two of them each took one girl and threw blankets around them, hurrying them toward an ambulance to get them out of their clothes and start warming them up. Brad and her friends were jabbering, but it was just noise. Goddamn it but she’d never felt so cold. A moment later, she was in an ambulance, and they were both being stripped of their clothes. The vehicle began to move, sirens blaring, speeding away.


Christmas thought that just about anything, even being in a frozen lake, was preferable to laying in a bed, silently, next to Marcy. The upside, and it was a big upside, was that she was finally, blessedly warm. Having successfully staved off hypothermia, she was now sharing a room with Marcy, whose teeth were still chattering from reflex. It was the only sound in the room and had been for several minutes now that the nurses were gone.

“Chris,” Marcy finally said.

“Did you actually just use my name?” Christmas asked.

“I… know I can be kind of a bitch,” Marcy said quietly.

“I didn’t say it,” Christmas replied.

“Just… thanks,” Marcy said.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly claim victory by default,” Christmas said. “You’re welcome.”

“They’ll probably pin a fucking medal on you for this,” Marcy said bitterly.

Christmas fumed, then snapped.

“What the fuck is your deal, anyway?” she spat.

“Like I said, I can be kind of a bitch. You’re just… everyone loves you,” Marcy said. “They love you because of your name, and because you’re––” she stopped, shut her mouth.

“I’m what? The poor little orphan girl? I don’t have money and they still like me?” Christmas asked.

Marcy stayed quiet.

“You know,” Christmas said, “I did not ask to be named fucking Christmas Carol. What a stupid name. Especially in a town obsessed with Christmas. No one asked my opinion about being some informal town mascot, just because of a dumb name. Yeah, I get treated special because of it, but do you ever see me trying to get recognition for it? I avoid it. Whatever your jealousy or… I don’t know what it is. It’s not because of me. That’s all you, honey.”

Marcy remained quiet for a minute as Christmas stewed, her brief anger cooling.

“I deserve that,” Marcy said, finally. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology fucking accepted,” Christmas said.

A moment later, Marcy laughed, and then Christmas joined in.

“Nice Salchow, by the way,” Christmas said, as the giggles died.

*** On leaving the little town hospital, Sasha, Leah, and Brad met Christmas. Julia, Jason and Carry were, likewise, waiting for Marcy. Each of them was embraced by their band, but by some unspoken agreement, they faced each other down. Christmas took the first step, Marcy the second, and then they hugged each other. Astonished looks showed on the faces of everyone else.

“Merry Christmas, Chris,” Marcy said as they broke away.

“Did she just use her name?” Leah whispered and caught an elbow from Sasha.

“You, too,” Christmas said, and they parted ways.

As she rejoined Brad and the girls, he said, “I guess Christmas miracles really do happen.”

“I suppose they do,” Christmas agreed.

“So, you’re not gonna go all icicle on us?” Sasha asked.

“Warm and friendly as ever,” Christmas remarked, “but if you don’t mind, I’m going to spend the entire night in front of the fucking fireplace.”

“We’ll be right there, too,” Leah said, brooking no argument.

“That was the stupidest, bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sasha said. “You’re the talk of the town once again.”

“Fantastic,” she said, grimacing.

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