December chill bites my freckled skin. I’m Lydia, 20, broke, ginger hair whipping under my grimy beanie. Hate Christmas. Crowds shoving, kids grinning at shiny crap. Hands jammed in filthy parka, scarf over numb nose. Endless post office line. Waiting for some mystery package. Mom? Nah. Dad? Never met the fucker.
My turn. Flash dirty ID, broken nails. Clerk sneers, shoves Colissimo box through. Sender’s address smeared by rain. Clutch it under arm. Six flights, no elevator. Dump of a maid’s room, weak heater wheezing. Rip it open. Inside, gold paper, red ribbon. Scribbled note: hard to read. “…rub with… it will come… charming…” Signature? Fuck knows.
The Awakening: Queue to Quivering Heat
Pull out monster dildo. Pale pink, veiny, huge. Hyper-real. Base? Tiny naked santon figure, like perverted Provençal crib. Hold it. Turn it. Soft silicone warms in my palms. Firm. Who sent this shit? Smirk. Giggle at post clerk’s face if she’d known. Laugh builds. Gut-deep, shaking. Tumble on bed, convulsing. Hurts so good. Frees my hate. Heat floods me. Pussy tingles. Eyes heavy. Drift off, toy in hand.
Beach. Gray sand. Wind lashes my nude body. Sun burns freckles golden. Alone. Waves crash. Hoofbeats. White horse thunders past. Young hunk, dark curls, guardian hat, buck naked. Grabs me effortless. Hoists to croup. Animal heat sears my ass. Fur soft under bare cunt. Tits mash his muscled back. Nipples harden, bouncing. Pussy grinds horsehair with each stride. Wet. Dripping. Arms wrap his waist. Fingers snag rock-hard cock. Throbs hot.
Stops at dune shack. Sea one side, bull fields other. His rough hands ease me down. Inside, cool shade. White sheets beg for sweat. Kisses devour. Bites lips. Sucks tongue. Teeth clash. Saliva swaps. Slow, hungry. Tits ache. Nipples scream sensitive. He maps every freckle. Kisses. Licks. Nips areolas. I writhe. Pant. Fingers in mouth to muffle moans. Hair fans wild.
No inch spared. Belly, hips, thighs. Pubic bush glows copper. Legs splay. Tongue invades slit. Hot, slick. Probes folds. Clit throbs. I buck, beg deeper. His cock hovers. Massive. Grip fails. Sniff musk: sweat, horse, salt. Lick prepuce. Base. Saliva slicks it. Suck deep. Tongue swirls. He tongue-fucks me harder. Orgasm crashes. Gush floods. His cock pulses. Pre-cum pearls. Explodes. Swallow thick ropes. Howl bliss.
The Act: Raw Ride from Dream to Reality
Not done. He mounts. Legs over hips. Slow thrust splits me. Fills every wall. Glide builds waves. Peaks shatter. He ramps, new climax rips me. Scream. Float. He slows, restarts fierce. Cum jets hot, overflows. Mix with mine. Collapse. Sweat-slick. Sun crowns us.
Eyes snap. Gray rain through skylight. Basin heavy. Look down. Dildo buried deep in soaked pussy. Knees up. Ease out. Gape. Wet gleam. Memory fuzzy. How’d shy me stuff it? Inspect it. Something missing. Sheets empty. Peer over: floor, grubby carpet. Naked hunk. Curly hair. Buff chest. Cock limp, shiny with my juice. Gaspard.
Scream. Grab blanket. He wakes. Grins. ‘Hey, hot cowgirl.’ ‘Who the fuck?’ ‘Gaspard. Across hall.’ Door open. My laugh drew him. Toy in hand. Then… ‘We fucked. Hard. Three times. You’re fire.’ Blush burns. He climbs bed. I scoot. ‘Regret?’ ‘No…’ Eyes down. ‘Crush since I saw you. Shy glances.’ New tenant. Bull driver for Paris creches. Camargue home. Shack on dune. Beach, fields, sea.
Heart races. Drop blanket. Tits heavy. Hair flies. ‘Room for me?’ He pauses. Pulls hand to chest. Heart thumps. ‘Big place here. If you want.’ Eyes lock. Grab dildo. ‘This you?’ ‘Nah. Brother’s santon. Backup if no meet.’ Tears well. Kiss deep. Believe Christmas miracles now.