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A Festive Frolic Part II

In 2016 I started writing a Christmas cuckold story (Read part I here) Part II has been a while in the making, but finally, it has appeared, and on time too.

O Come! All Ye (Un)Faithful…

The blue room was delightfully warm after the chilly hallway. Cynthia’s nightgown was laid across the bedspread, engulfing Edgar’s pyjamas, and Matthew noted how it was not dissimilar to the clinging, slippery gown she wore now.

“How silly I was, complaining of the cold. Now I find I am frightfully hot. Perhaps if I took a little air….” She stepped to the window, her backside shuddering back and forth, and Matthew watched her breath cloud the pane before her mouth, blooming and breaking with exhalation.

After a minute or two she sighed.

“No, I am still quite overheated. Matthew, would you be a dear and unbutton my gown? Perhaps if a little more of my skin felt the cool chill of the Christmas air, I may be able to think more clearly.”

Here it was, his cue. His permission to lay his hands on the most beautiful woman he had ever cast his eye over.
Matthew fumbled uselessly with the buttons for a few moments, making no progress, and Cynthia flinched each time his knuckles brushed the smooth skin of her back.

“Matthew.” She said in a low voice, tinged with impatience. He swallowed.

“Nothing is amiss here. Take my hand.”
He laid his fingers over hers on the sill, and breathed deeply, nostrils flaring at the apricot scent of her.

They stood in silence for a short while, the steady clock and their breathing only punctuated by the pop of coals in the fire. He moved closer to her and kissed her bare shoulder, catching the reflection of her smile in the frosted windowpane.

“Still burning, I see.” he muttered. Cynthia ducked her head in agreement, expecting him to make her raise her arms so he could take the dress from her, but instead he placed his hands on her hips, a trifle firmer than she’d anticipated, and began to gather the dress upwards. He hid his surprise that she was naked beneath it well, choosing to luxuriate in her curves and beauty; but he held her more tightly, so she was acutely aware of the stiff urgency of his cock.

“So, cousin, how do you wish to receive your gift? Or will you be taking it?” She purred, grinning as he brought the flat of his palm down against her quaking buttocks.

“For one so keen to feel a man inside her, you are a rather indolent little thing, aren’t you? You said it yourself that I have waited these five Christmases to fuck you, Cynthia. Imagined mounting you and feeling the warm seduction of your cunt. I’ve no doubt the thought of my prick inside you is all you can think of at this very moment. I shall be receiving and taking my gift in equal measure.”
He brought his hands up to her breasts, letting the folds of satin fall once more. The wet stain covering her nipple was almost dry, but the duct beneath still hard and puckered under his fingers as his cock was hard and pushing at the seams of his trousers.

“Your cunt is mine.” He moaned hoarsely in her ear, “But first, we must undress you.”
And he began to pull firmly at the collar of her gown until he heard the satisfying rip of the stitches holding it together. The panels of Cynthia’s frock put up a good fight, but with both she and Matthew against them, soon the dress was nothing but a pile of ribbons beneath the windowsill and Cynthia was displayed, gloriously, as the good Lord had intended.
She was even more breathtaking than Matthew had dreamt, and for a moment he stood stricken, once more unsure of himself. And this was the moment Cynthia turned – her body cut through with slivers of glittering silver and blue from the moonlight – and kissed him, reaching under his jacket and slipping her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, stroking the hair beneath.

“So handsome you are. So sweet.” she murmured as they parted.
Her hands ventured lower, to the buttons of his trousers. Beneath these, he was stiff as a rail and eager as anything.

“So eager to fuck me.”

She continued, stroking the length of his cock as she spoke, watching his throat tremble with her every manipulation.

“Fuck me.” She whispered, relinquishing her grasp, only so she could turn back to the window and present her cunt and arsehole to him. There was nothing else stopping him; as if guided by his cock, he took a moment to admire her once more before pushing his cock inside her; she was slippery as oil and soon welcomed him past the point of no return. Her squeals of pleasure were deep and thrilling, almost at once he felt his body tighten as if he might arrive too soon; and he began to fuck her more quickly, gripping her hips and spurred on by the sharp smack of his thighs against hers.

“Oh, Cynthia!” He groaned; she replied with a string of expletives too base and filthy to ever be repeated; a cacophony of fucks and shits that echoed around the glass and plaster walls, intended for the gratification of Edgar, fisting his own erection in the next room, Matthew’s room.

Matthew found he wished Edgar were there with them, admiring his wife’s body as she was plundered by his own flesh and blood. The notion of being watched as though his skilled fucking were worthy of an audience made him harden further and fuck more determinedly as Cynthia moaned, arching her back to Matthew’s touch.

“Does Edgar fuck you like this? Is he powerful? Does he make you howl and shriek like a wild animal?”

“Yes…” But her voice faltered.

“Are you his slut? Are you filthy and debauched when he fucks you?”

“Oh, yes! I am his to be fulfilled. I beg him for his issue, to fill me over and over as if I will never be satisfied. My cunt is to be taken by whomsoever he wills, I do as he wishes. I do as you wish, Matthew. I am fulfilled when I am fucked by you, Matthew.

Matthew knew he was close, could feel his release churning and swelling within him.

“Cyn….Thi…..aaaaaaaaaaaah.” He breathed, as his cock shuddered and jerked within her as if powered by a higher being. He gripped her by the flesh at her waist and as she felt him expelling his essence inside her, the thought of his come filling her made her moans louder, her body convulse.

Matthew panted heavily and withdrew a little regretfully. He suddenly noted how hot he was; still in his dress clothes and only his cock – still thick and protruding – betraying his bawdy antics.

Cynthia rested her scarlet cheek against the windowpane to cool it, smiling to herself. She needed no further satiation; thinking of how Edgar would lay her on the damask bedspread when Matthew had departed; devour every drop from her swollen, used cunt before bringing her off too. Her knees weakened a little at the thought of her beloved Edgar, and as if he knew her thoughts were only of him, there came a swift knock at the door.

Startled, Matthew began to look about him anxiously for something to cover Cynthia’s nakedness, but she merely smiled indulgently at him and walked to receive the visitor.

There stood Edgar, beaming,and silently enveloped her in an embrace, kissing the top of her head.

Matthew’s heart lurched a little at this sight, but warmed to be in the presence of such unshaking love.

As they stepped into the room, he slipped past them to his own room, and as he sat wearily upon the bed, he could hear the faint sounds of their union, as husband and wife began their own Christmas celebration.


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