Christmas Wish

Janice wasn't attractive.

She knew this about herself and in a way it defined her. She was worse than plain, she was forgettable. Add to this sad state the fact that she was very shy and you realize you have a recipe for almost never getting laid. And she hadn't.

Her first sexual experience was with a boy who she later found out was going out with her on a bet and had decided to see how far he could go with her on a whim. Her initial resistance had crumbled like a façade and Janice had jumped at the chance to relieve herself of a virginity she'd never thought she'd be able to lose. She'd spent the summer with that boy and had learned much, especially when they went back to school--she had learned how boys will call you a whore at school if you fuck them. She had had little sex since then, long years ago. She was afraid to get to know people and was never at ease around members of the opposite sex. She was wildly sexual in her mind and masturbated frequently, using everything from little bullet vibrators to a monster eight-inch dildo as big around as her forearm. She liked oral, anal, and vaginal (of course), and her toys served her well. Other things they were not well-suited for: hand jobs, blow jobs, warm throbbing spurts of hot salt in her mouth accompanied by moaning and a pulling hand in her hair. When she licked her juice off her fingers, she thought about what it would be like to service another woman like a slave and the thought sent bolts of lust to her pussy. She wouldn't do it given the opportunity, but she knew the opportunity would not come anyway, not for her. Maybe if she were pretty, or interesting, or not terrified of looking like an idiot--

So it cannot be surprising that as she drove home from her Aunt Janice's house--Aunt Janice, for whom she was named--and her mind was preoccupied with sex and romance. This, and every other year, all she'd wanted for Christmas was a boyfriend. One who would make her love all kinds of thrilling and forbidden things. She wanted a man to fuck her in the ass, or to make her suck her own juice from his cock for one split second before it exploded in her mouth, or to eat her pussy.

She thought about the shopping she had yet to do as she absently pressed the crotch of her jeans up against herself and gave a little wiggle that made her gasp. She repeated this again and again before she realized that she was masturbating in the car. She let the seam of the jeans rub her clit through her panties and the heat down there drove her crazy. It was a very short time later that she pulled her car over and stuck her hand down her pants. She spread her legs as wide as she could in jeans and car, slid two fingers into her unwanted pussy and flicked her clit with her thumb. This sent shocks through her and she rubbed her clit with her thumb, sliding the hood over it until she felt herself clench inside, felt her pussy contract and shocks travel the length of her body. Her orgasm rocketed through her and made her throw her head back and moan. It soaked her panties and her fingers and left her breathless but somehow hollow. And then with a quick suck of the fingers she was back on the road and feeling empty, worthless and unlovable.

She was tired of masturbation. She told her friends that she was single by choice but the only men she knew were not interested in her. Nobody was. She didn't go out much because she was afraid of her appearance; she didn't go to clubs because only whores went clubbing without a man or an entourage of female companions. She had tried online dating services but sooner or later they wanted a picture and she was terrified to send one. Masturbation was all she had left and it wasn't really doing it for her anymore, which meant she had nothing.

To keep her maudlin thoughts at bay, she thought back to her aunt's house and the gift-giving between her relatives. She had gotten three bracelets which had gone straight onto her wrists, and a sweater from the depths of Hell that she wouldn't put on a dog. She had gotten a wallet, which she needed, and a pair of wool toe socks, which she didn't. A backpack, which she liked, and a gray plastic windbreaker, which she loathed, but she threw it in the trunk against a sudden shower.

At the sight of the sign for the neighborhood market , she remembered she needed to stop. She pulled into the parking lot and got out, her knees shaking and her belly feeling a bit liquid from her orgasm. when there he was: the Cute Bag Boy, a gorgeous man in his twenties.

Janice thought he was irresistible, and he had starred in more than a few of her masturbatory features of late. He'd started working there a few weeks ago, and each time she saw him Janice was stricken by his beauty and the fit of his jeans. The last time she saw him he'd been idly talking on his cellphone and sporting a huge erection. Her eyes had popped and her poor neglected pussy had cried out in anguish at this Adonis standing there on the front walk of the store and absently rubbing his bulge.

She'd gone home and cruelly raped herself with The Big One, and then lay in bed and cried..

Now, here he was again, his jeans tighter than she thought decent but she didn't mind, of course he wouldn't notice her looking...he never did.

But he did. His head swiveled around and his eyes locked on her, and Janice felt a flush of terror throughout her body. The dampness in her panties suddenly doubled and she felt a little faint as he began to walk over to her.

"Hi," he said, and Janice waved weakly. "You should be careful out here in the parking lot at night, there's bad folks out there," he continued, and his eyes roamed over her small breasts and her hips a bit wide for her body. "A pretty girl like you could get into trouble."

Janice involuntarily looked over her shoulder. "Me?"

The man just laughed. He was beautiful when he laughed, Janice thought; he looked to be just the right age, in his mid-twenties, and he was looking at her in a way that men just didn't look at her.

"I don't see any other hot women out here," he told her, smiling. "I'm just looking out for you..." He moved close to her and looked into her eyes. "And I'd do anything if you'd just go out with me."

Her jaw dropped. "Me, go out with YOU?"

The bag-boy looked hurt. "Well, I thought, I had to ask you, you're..." he backed away.

"No, I didn't mean it like that...why do you want to go out with ME?" Her heart was pounding and she fought to keep her voice from breaking. "I mean, NOBODY asks me out."

"You're kidding, right?" he asked after a moment. "'Cuz that's impossible." He looked incredulous and Janice wondered if she'd wandered into someone's acid trip.

"Um, no..." She couldn't believe this guy was talking to her at all, let alone asking her out. She felt warmth between her thighs. "They just don't. I don't get out a lot." She smiled at him and he grinned back at her. "Sure, I'll go out with you, when?"

"Uh, I'm off work...do you want to do something now?"

Janice considered. She had nothing to do tonight, her hair was clean (not that it helped), and her cellphone battery had died three days ago and she hadn't gotten around to recharging it. "Okay, I'll drive. but I need to know something."

"What?" he looked pensive.

"What's your name?"

"I'm really glad you came out with me," Scott told her, and his voice was so sincere that Janice felt her heart melt a little. She didn't know why this guy had obsessed on her, but she didn't mind, oh no. "I was ready to just go home..."

"And what?" Janice asked him.

"Well, you know..."

"What?" Her tone was insistent.

"After seeing you? I was going to go home and...jerk off, probably."

Janice slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the deserted road. Crickets chirped in the ditch beside the car and when she looked at him in the light from the instrument panel she saw him reach for the door handle. "Wait," she told him, and he turned and looked at her; his face was crestfallen.

"Hey, you know, I'm sorry I said that, I know I was out of line," he told her.

Janice practically leapt across the car to press her lips to his. He returned her kiss fervently, his tongue in her mouth and his arms around her, comfortable and warm. Janice snuggled into his embrace and kissed, and kissed again, and she felt his breathing deepen. She curved her neck to whisper in his ear. "You don't have to jerk off, Scott," She whispered, and her hand felt the stiffness in his tight jeans. "Do you have a..you know...?"

"What?" He looked lost.

"A...condom," she said, blushing. At Scott's stricken look, she knew he had none, which meant the game plan had changed. She kissed him passionately and tugged at his fly.

Scott unfastened his fly for her and she reached in and pulled out what he had. It was beautiful, thick and hard, and the first uncut cock she'd ever held in her hand. She bent to it, touching her lips to its head and inhaling his scent. She had sucked few cocks before and she tried to remember how she'd done it, darting her tongue along the underside of the shaft and then taking all of him in her mouth.

She took him as deeply as she could, and then deeper, feeling him pass her tonsils and fighting not to gag. She pulled back until just the tip of the head lay between her lips and she squeezed just a little. His responding moan encouraged her, and she took him deep again, flicking her tongue back and forth on the underside as his dick slid into her, and then pulling out, feeling the silken flesh between her lips as she closed them on his shaft and rubbed him as she moved away from him. She felt him move against her as she sucked his foreskin and plunged him into her throat again. She felt him thrust into her as she took him and she tasted salty juices on her tongue. She pulled out and took him in as he thrust into her, and again, and the taste of his come was strong in her mouth.

"Janice..." Scott's voice was strained. "I'm gonna--"

She was not to be denied. She sucked him in deep and pulled back, and suddenly his hands were on her head, pulling and pushing, fucking himself with her mouth. She closed her eyes and held on for the ride, by no means a nonparticipant; her lips and tongue worked on him and his taste was strong on her tongue and it was no surprise when his breathing hitched and he forced out a guttural moan. His cock swelled and pressed against the roof of her mouth, and then it spasmed and his seed shot into her throat. He grunted each time he gushed forth into her. Janice closed her throat and let him pool within her mouth, till working her tongue, and when he pulled from her mouth with an audible pop, she pulled away from him, opened the car door, and spat his come onto the dirt shoulder of the road. She didn't know him. But she felt a bit denied; had he been a steady date, she would have swallowed him for sure.

She put the car in drive, shyly avoiding his gaze as he refastened his jeans and sat up in the seat.

"That...that was incredible," he told her. "Thank you..."

"You don't have to thank me," she replied. "I liked it. If you'd had a condom..." Her voice trailed off; they both knew the end of that sentence.

"I'll never be without one again," he said, so seriously that she laughed.

She thought a long time. "Do you want to come home with me?" she asked him quietly, and his face lit up.

"Like you have to ask."

As soon as the door as closed behind him, he was upon her, kissing her face and pressing himself against her. She bent over to pick up the mail from the basket under the slot and he was behind her, his hard cock sliding against the crack of her ass. Despite herself, she pushed back into him, moaning softly as his arms encircled her and held her fast as his rigid cock sought to burrow through two pairs of jeans and into her ass. She moved with him, stretching her neck to kiss him. One hand slipped under her blouse and up into her bra, cupping her breast, and she knew her nipple was rock-hard by the electric way it rubbed against his hand. He cupped and squeezed gently and her knees went to water. She rubbed against the hardness behind her and against her and took his hand and practically dragged him to the bedroom.

She rummaged around in her nightstand and found a condom, aged but still sealed, and the two of them speedily disrobed. She stood before him naked, watching him undress, watching the ripple of muscle under the skin and the fine hair on his chest and arms, and he dropped his briefs and turned to her--

He stopped and looked at her, and his brow furrowed. "Janice?"

"Yes?" she asked quietly, confused. His look made her self-conscious and she crossed her arms over her breasts and hunched her shoulders up a little. "What's wrong, Scott?"

"Well, uh--nothing's wrong," he answered lamely. "I just...this is fast for me, okay?" He looked at her a moment longer and then put on his briefs. "I just feel weird about this," he told her. "I'm just gonna go."

Janice watched in silence as he dressed, then reached for her own clothes. "Do you want me to take you back to the market?" she asked him. She felt insulted and a bit used.

"No, I can walk back," he told her hurriedly. Janice dropped her clothes and followed him to the door.

"Scott, it's half a mile in the cold!"

"I'm okay, I like to walk," he responded, backing away from her.

This was too much; she boiled over. She reached behind him and unlocked and opened the door. "Okay, fine, go, you asshole!" she yelled at him, and as he backed out the door she flung it shut in his face.

Janice went upstairs and got into bed. She tried to masturbate but couldn't come; she tried three different tools but ended up frustrated, and instead she bawled for three hours.

"Wow, hi Janice, looking good!" the postman called out as he closed her mailbox door.

Janice stopped. This mailman had dropped off mail at this address for two years and had never so much as said hello to her. She hadn't known he even knew her name, and now he complimented her on looking almost exactly the same as she had last night. Certainly, she'd always considered him cute, somebody she'd do if he'd ever stop the jeep and talk to her, and true, she'd just been looking at him kind of wistfully, but still--

The more she'd thought about it, the more it had seemed like some kind of joke had been played on her. Scott had been receptive to getting his cock sucked, but when he was in her bedroom, then he'd figured it had gone on long enough and --

She looked down the street and saw that the postman just hit a mailbox.

Janice trotted down the street and looked in on him. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, hey, I'm okay," he told her, rather absently. His vacuous gaze crawled over her and settled back on her face. "I just...look, I'm probably not supposed to do this, but would you like to have dinner? Maybe tonight?"

The sense of the surreal made her dizzy and a little ill. "Eh, I don't think so," she told him, surprising herself, and walked back to her own driveway as the owner of the mailbox came out in his bathrobe and began screaming incoherently at the postman.

Janice inwardly cursed Scott as she drove back to the market; she hadn't got her shopping done and now there was a chance he'd be there, and she was angry at him and embarrassed to have been the butt of some practical joke.

He was not in evidence as she shopped, selecting bananas and cans and other items for the Christmas dinner she would undoubtedly be eating alone. She considered and selected a canned ham small enough to feed one plus leftovers and placed it in her basket.

She found an empty checkout and as she rummaged in her new wallet for cash, a soft voice sounded from her side. "May I help you out with this?"

She turned and saw Scott at the end of the lane, bagging her groceries. Against her will her pussy grew damp.

"You're a real dick," she told him.

He looked up, eyes slitted, then stopped and looked at her for a long moment.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm the biggest idiot in the world too," he responded, "and I want to make it up to you so bad and I don't know if I can." His eyes were wide and liquid and he looked very sad.

"Well, keep working at it, pal," she replied. She made to grab her groceries but Scott pulled them away.

"Please let me carry these out for you," he told her softly.

Janice stared at him a moment. "Do you have some kind of mental illness, where you want a woman and let her take you home, then suddenly you just want to get away from her?" she asked him, rather loudly. She heard a ripple of dim laughter pass through the people around them in the market.

"I guess I must," he replied. "I was crazy to leave you last night."

She lunged for her bags again but he evaded her. "Okay, whatever," she told him in a surly voice, and walked away; she heard him follow through the door and across the lot to the shady area behind the store where she'd thought to avoid his seeing her car. She opened the trunk and made way for him to set he two bags down, and then reached up to close the trunk and found his arms around her and his lips against her neck.

"I am so sorry, baby, I never should have left like that," he whispered. "Let me make it up to you now..."

"What?" she asked, and "But you're working!" was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She realized it meant an acquiescence, and an implied invitation to come over after work. And she realized she didn't care; he was warm, male, and cute, and she wanted his cock buried to the hilt in her.

"I'll quit my job," he told her, smiling.

She led him to the passenger's side of the car, farthest from the store. She kissed him and found unexpected passion.

She unlocked the front door and reached behind to unlock the rear one, then faced him."You don't have to quit your job." She opened the door and unfastened her jeans, dropping them around her ankles as she sat. She kicked off her shoes to slip them off and lay back on the seat, her face burning but knowing she needed it, she needed it right then, and she spread for him.

He dropped his pants to his knees and brought his rather sizable hard cock into view. Janice remembered its taste but had never seen it in good light, and looking at it she found her mouth watering. She reached between her legs to grasp it, pulling it to her in a series of tugs that let led him to her while allowing him to feel the stroke of her hand.

She could fit two hands on his shaft before it really covered the head, and she marveled in excitement of what her pussy was going to take after two years without. She drew him to her and reached into her purse, pulling forth the condom she'd put there in the unlikely event anything like last night ever happened again, but by the time she held it up he was already tearing open his own. Sheathed, he neared her and they moaned simultaneously as the head of his cock touched her lips. She spread wider and gasped sharply as he pressed into her, but she was so slick from his presence that he slid into her, slowly, inexorably, painful but not agonizing and raising a delirious heat to her that washed away any caring about discomfort. She pulled him to her and pressed her hips forward onto him, feeling him caress her inside and wanting, needing more. She was sorry when his pubic bone met hers, then crying out as he ground himself against her. He pulled back, and she felt every centimeter of him pulling out, then sliding in, well-lubricated and insistent. He ground against her again, and she felt herself tighten around him as the sensation coursed through her. He established a rhythm, pulling out slowly, sliding into her quickly with a delicious grind against he pubic bone that rubbed her clit against her labia.

She found her hands were locked into claws in his back and relaxed her fingers, hearing his sigh of relief and a smoothing-out of his movements into her and away. She lifted her legs and hooked her toes into the doorframe of the car, urging him with her hands to give it to her harder, and he accommodated her, slamming into her, never ceasing the grind at the end of each stroke. Her toes curled against the frame and she felt a familiar tightening in the muscles of her thighs, a harbinger of impending orgasm. Still he thrust into her, harder and faster of his own accord and she welcomed it, moaning with every breath and pulling his shirt to pull him into her faster, faster.