She bounced and shook, and held on to the bar for dear life. “Fuck,” she groaned, tightening around me, coming vigorously. I watched her beautiful skin blush as the orgasm’s waves washed over her shaking frame.
“Pull out,” she demanded firmly.
Dammit, what did I do wrong? I wondered.
She sprawled out on a nearby dessert table, pushing the little decorative ornaments and almost all the cupcakes onto the floor. “I want you to give me a Christmas gift,” she said, undoing her silver and ruby choker.
I stood there, half naked, and somewhat confused. “Anything,” I said, wondering what I could possibly come up with on the spot. I was good at improvising, but . . .
“Jewelry,” she said, running her hand along her neck.
“I’d spend my entire salary just to please you,” I said, walking toward her, still aching with unsatisfied need. I stroked myself once to keep sated until we made contact again.
She smirked, and clarified what she wanted. “I want you to give me a pearl necklace,” she said, and grabbed my length roughly between her small, soft hands.
Where was I supposed to come up with—oh.
Oh.
She grabbed a lone cupcake from the edge of the table and looked at it, questioningly. “I wonder,” she mused, and took a lick. She smiled, satisfied. “So smooth,” she said, and lifted her eyebrows at me suggestively.
I didn’t catch on in time, again, but quickly got the drift as she unhooked her bra, loosing her gorgeous breasts. She slid the soft frosting between them and beckoned to me with her finger.
That was all the prompting I needed.
I mounted the table and removed my tie. Wouldn’t want it hitting her in the face.
I situated myself semi-kneeling, grabbed beautiful handfuls of flesh in my hands, and slid myself into the trail of frosting. Cerise moaned, and I pushed her breasts closer together, nestling my cock between them snugly as I thrust. Sometimes, I would push myself far enough up her chest so that my mistress could take little licks of my frosting-coated cock.
I realized quickly that it would not take long to produce my Christmas present for Cerise. The sight of her breasts in my hands, the occasional flicks and swirls of her tongue against my head, and the surprisingly smooth consistency of the butter and sugar confection between our bodies was enough to put me over the edge.
Cerise was ready for it. As soon as I began to come, she arched her back and exposed her long, supple neck. She got her pearl necklace, the white beads decorating her lovely throat. She moaned, and then swirled her finger in one spot and took a lick. She bit her lip, and took another, sucking her whole finger into her mouth greedily.
“Thanks for my present,” she said, her voice sweet and innocent.
I smiled, and pushed myself up. “Your wish,” I said, kissing her lips softly. “My command.” I promptly cleaned up the room, and while she showered off the “evidence” of our illicit affair, I put her bedroom back together. She wanted takeout for dinner, so when I went out to pick it up, I grabbed a little something else.
A little Christmas gift.
“What’s this?” Cerise asked, pointing her chopsticks away from the noodles and toward a small box I had in my hand. It was wrapped in red and green paper, and had a little silver bow on top.
“Open and see,” I said.
She smiled, confused, and unwrapped the tiny package. And pulled out a pearl necklace.
“Merry Christmas, indeed,” she said, blushing. I pushed her long hair away from her neck and clasped the string of pearls neatly in back.