A Holiday Excerpt

cuckedforchristmas

“GODDAMNIT RODRIGO!”  Snake’s thunderous voice made them both jump as he paced around their kitchen island like a caged animal, Marissa’s phone clamped to his ear.  “I don’t care if you have to dig a snow tunnel to get here ese.  Just get your ass here and pick me up.  You owe me, homeboy.”

Snake ended the call, tossing the phone back on the counter.  He plucked a cookie off the tray sitting there and bit into the gingerbread head.  “Got anything to drink in this place?”

“There’s beer in the fridge,” Marissa offered.

Snake opened the refrigerator and rummaged for one of Thom’s Coors Light.  Twisting the cap off the bottle, his gaze shifted to Thom.  A little smile curled his kissable lips as those dark eyes glided over Thom’s naked body, lingering on his flaccid penis.

“Looks like I interrupted something,” Snake said.  “You two should really lock your doors.  Don’t you know how many burglaries happen around Christmas?”

“Wha-What do you want?”

“Told you ese, just need a place to hang low awhile.”  Snake cast a cursory look around the kitchen.  “Besides, nothing you two have I need.  But seeing how it looks like we’re going to be spending the night together we should get to know each other.”

Marissa stepped between them.  “My husband’s name is Thom,” she said.  “I’m Marissa.”

Those deep, honeyed eyes ensnared her where she stood.  The thickening bulge beneath Thom’s borrowed sweatpants reminded her of her empty cunt.

“Well, Marissa,” Snake smiled over the longneck of his beer, “since you seem to be the one calling the shots here, tell your hubby he can get dressed.  You too, chica, unless you two feel like finishing whatever it is you started.”

He licked his lips as he drank her in with his eyes.

Marissa held his gaze, defiant despite her pounding heart.  “We are fine.”

Thom’s entire body flushed red as his face.  He looked defeated, humiliated.  Still, Marissa thought she saw his little member twitch between his legs.

“Marissa…”

Thom trailed off when Marissa flashed him a hard look.  She knew what he was about to say.  Snakes erection was more noticeable now, an obscene tent in the front of his borrowed sweats.  He gave the thickness a smug tug, smiling at the way Marissa’s eyes lingered.

“I think wifey here sees something she wants for Christmas, hombre,” Snake chuckled.  Thom gave a pathetic squeak.  “No worries, man.  Not really in the business of breaking up marriages.  What God brought together, and all that.”

Snake drained the rest of his beer and grabbed another from the fridge before pushing past Marissa and Thom, and back into the living room.  Both gaped after him a second before following.  The twinkle of Christmas lights mixing with the glow from the fireplace lent a soft warmth to the downstairs.  Snake went to the mantle where two overstuffed stockings hung, eyeing their wedding photos.

“No kids?” he asked.

“No,” Marissa answered.

Snake searched her face, his dark eyes penetrating.  “Cute couple like you should have at least a couple little ones running around.”

“We don’t,” Marissa said.

What she left unsaid was that Thom’s sperm lacked the motility needed to get her pregnant, which was fine with Marissa.  She preferred the independence of being childless, though the idea of kids had grown more and more appealing over the past few years—almost as pressing as her need to come.

Snake shrugged, returning his eyes to the photo.  “You are one hot blanca, no doubt about that.”

“How long are you planning on keeping us hostage here?” Thom asked, more assertive than Marissa would have imagined considering he was naked, bashfully trying to cover himself.

“You already tired of me, hombre?” Snake said.  He took a long draught of his beer and set the bottle on the mantle.  “Just till my buddy gets here, then I’m ghost.  All goes the way I hope, we all stand to get a little something in return.”

Snake’s dark eyes snapped to Marissa.  “Impressive, blanca, no?”

Marissa realized she was staring again.  Her eyes danced between the faces of the two men—Thom with something of a scorned look to his blue eyes; Snake with a hungry gleam in his.  Marissa’s face heated beneath the combined weight of their stares.

“What’s the matter?” Snake said, his accent going straight to Marissa’s pussy.  “Hubby not giving you what you need?”

“Thom is a good provider,” Marissa said, the words trembling on her lips.

Snake laughed.  “I’m not talking about the house, the job, the white fucking picket fence, blanca.”  He made a rude gesture with his hips that made Marissa ache.  “I’m talking about fucking, chica, about sex.  How does Thom here take care of you where it counts?”

***

If you liked what you read and want to see how things end up for Marissa and Thom, check out Cuck’d for Christmas on Amazon here and feel free to leave a review. Otherwise, I wish everyone a warm season.  May your stockings be hung and full to bursting.

See you next year!

 

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Cuck’d for Christmas: A Preview

It’s live!  My new erotic short story Cuck’d for Christmas is available for purchase on Amazon, and to celebrate here is a sexy little excerpt.  Enjoy!

cuckedforchristmas

Marissa gazed down at her husband’s head tucked neatly between her silken thighs, spread just enough on the bed to allow Thom access to her hungry pussy.  Thom’s brow wrinkled beneath the beads of sweat forming there, nose nestled in Marissa’s smooth mound.  His committed tongue stroked little starbursts of pleasure across her clit, eliciting tiny whimpers from Marissa’s throat that begged for more…more…

…far more than Thom could give her.

More than once Marissa found her gaze drifting back to the TV Thom insisted on always keeping on in their bedroom.  The Weather Channel had promised a white Christmas and they had delivered on that promise a day early.  Christmas Eve, and the moving storm front, promised to stall holiday traffic across the county.

“You okay, babe?”

Marissa gave a little start when she realized Thom was watching her beneath heavy-lidded blue eyes.  She found herself looking him over as she so often did these days—his sandy blond hair swept sweatily to the side of his clean-shaven, almost boyish face, his broad shoulders and lean, ropey muscles that rippled as he pawed hungrily at the insignificant organ between his legs.

Thom waited on bended knee like a puppy waiting for a command, forever concerned about her pleasure.  Ordinarily he did wonders with his tongue and mouth and fingers, making Marissa cum until she trembled in orgasm before satisfying himself with her cunt.  How could she tell him that tonight he simply wasn’t enough?

“Babe…?”

“I’m fine,” Marissa said, grateful for the excuse of a police siren that lilted distantly on the icy night outside.  “I just can’t remember if I locked the door or not.  Could you run down and check for me?”

She wondered if her husband put voice to the lie, if he sensed the undulating need swelling in the pit of her belly.  But in typical Thom fashion he just sighed and rose naked from the bed.

“Sure, be right back.”

Good old, predictable Thom—non-confrontational, non-aggressive, a pacifist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

When she was alone Marissa threw herself back on their bed.  What the hell’s wrong with me?  She told herself it was the stress of the holidays that kept her from focusing on their play, but Marissa knew it was much more than that.  Five years or marriage and Thom had never made her come, at least not with that puny thing between his legs—more veins and head than any real meat.

Thom knew it, too, and that only seemed to make it worse, to add to his masculine shame.  Sure he stepped it up other ways sexually, but in the end Marissa was never quite sated.  And tonight all of that pent up need seemed to pool in the pit of her belly like overflow from a flood.  If Thom ever asked her what she wanted for Christmas Marissa might have said, “The most mind-blowing fuck of my life!”

But Thom never asked, and Marissa could never bring herself to tell.

Marissa looked down at her naked, thirty year-old body, her tits heavy and flushed with the need burning her from the inside out.  Long black hair curled in ringlets around her breasts and she gave one of the silver rings spearing her nipples a harsh tug she felt deep in the folds of her cunt.  Her back arched.  Reaching between her legs she found her slit, still wet with Thom’s saliva, excruciatingly empty.  Not for the first time Marissa imagined someone other than Thom filling that void.

A strange scuffling noise downstairs pulled her from her fantasies of bigger cock.

“Thom?”

When he didn’t answer Marissa reached for her discarded robe on the floor, too aware of the sticky dampness coating her thighs.

“Thom, I swear to baby Christ you’d better not be fucking with me.”

What am I talking about?  Thom never fucks with anyone.

Marissa padded barefoot down the hall, robe swinging open behind her as she descended the stairs.  She always went all out for Christmas—garland, lights, presents, and, the show-stopper, the fresh cut Christmas tree she and Thom had picked out together a few nights before, fully loaded with ornaments, ribbon, twinkling lights, and displayed in full-view in front of the bay window.  The smell of pine needles and fresh-baked gingerbread cookies still cooling on the kitchen counter filled her nose when she rounded the corner.

Marissa froze.

Standing in their living room near the fireplace was a man.  Firelight twinkled in his dark eyes as he drew Marissa in with his gaze.  He looked Latino, a head taller than her husband and thick with muscle that bulged beneath the orange jumpsuit he wore.  One powerful arm hooked around his throat held Thom’s naked body at bay.

“No sudden moves lady or I’ll snap this vato’s neck right here.”

Marissa couldn’t move if she wanted.  Panic threatened to cripple her right there in the living room.  Danger crackled on the air like electricity, sending a cold chill rippling through her.

“Take anything you want.”  She struggled to keep her voice level.  “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Fresh clothes,” the stranger growled, his voice tinged with an accent.  “Rapita chica!  Go!”

Marissa raced back upstairs, arousal replaced by adrenaline as she tore through the dresser drawers looking for something that might fit the intruder.  He was so much bigger than Thom, especially through his chest.  None of Thom’s shirts would fit.  In the end she settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

A flash from the television caught her attention.  Clutching Thom’s sweats to her chest, Marissa eyed the words emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.

Manhunt Underway for Escaped Inmate