Flight of the Wild Goose
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I love Christmas time. The cold crisp air, sitting around the fireplace drinking hot mulled wine, caroling, oops! Back up there a sec. Need to say more about the caroling. I mean it’s fun to be out roaming around with a bunch of friends, laughing and having a good time, then being able to blend our voices in some great harmonies and seeing how much the old folks appreciate our efforts. Oh, did I mention the opportunities for a little grab-ass?
What other time of year allows you to stand right behind a beautiful lady who may be married to a good friend and be able to take advantage of the high spirits and darkness to sneak in a little grope here and there? How much more fun is it to have the Christmas “goose” returned as you are all piling back into the van to go to the next appointment?
Laura was Bob’s wife. Bob was one of my best friends and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that friendship, like come on to his wife in any kind of blatant manner, but a little goose here and there that didn’t lead to anything else should be ok, shouldn’t it?
Laura was built like the well known facility, with no bricks left over. She could have easily been a Miss America if she had been into that sort of life, but she was a very private person and always dressed very demurely. Almost always, I’m happy to say. There were a couple of times when we all got together at the lake or in somebody’s back yard for a cookout and she would show up in shorts and a sweatshirt. The reason they call it that is because of the way it made me sweat when she wore it.
Like, hey! When a woman like that is wearing a very loose, thick garment with a bra, things just don’t move around like that. It was sort of like tectonic plates shifting. On the other hand, there was nothing at all floppy about it. There was just the slightest movement when she walked or jumped to catch a Frisbee, but it took a long time for the movement to settle out.
My greatest fear was that I was being so obvious in my adoration that my wife would have no choice but to annihilate me on the spot, or that Laura would ask Bob if there wasn’t some way to pour a bucket of cold water on me. Somehow, they never noticed or else just decided there was nothing short of electroshock therapy that could be done about it and nobody ever mentioned anything to me. Not even my ever-vigilant wife. Perhaps it was because Laura was so far out of my league that everyone knew there was no chance whatsoever of my getting closer than an eyeball to her. At any rate, I was either tolerated or ignored.
My voice isn’t very wonderful, but I can sing loud and on key, which are two useful things for outdoor caroling. Laura’s voice, as well as that of my lovely wife Donna, was clear and angelic, like their complexions, so they stood in front of us horny old guys when we sang. Bob carried the tenor.
When it’s really cold, it helps to stand closer together. Somehow (don’t ask me how), I always managed to place myself directly behind Laura and Bob would usually be behind Donna.
Now that we had been singing together for some time, everybody seemed to be a bit more comfortable with moving in a little closer together. It helped the harmony, too, because we could hear each other better.
Having that glorious body so close in front of me always made my palms sweat, even in the coldest weather, so I usually left my gloves off.
One evening as we were serenading a neighbor, I made my big move. As casually as possible, I put my outside hand on Laura’s hip, waiting in dread for her to remove it in disgust or to say something about it. When I felt her hand cover mine and her ass move back against my already rigid member, I nearly lost it.
She gave no outward sign that some sort of barrier had just crumbled between us. If anyone had seen my face at the moment, there would have been no way to explain the mixture of pain from trying to hold a bucket load of cum inside with muscle control alone, and the rhapsody I was hearing above our singing.
If I had any doubts whether the contact was intended or a wonderfully inadvertent movement, all doubts were dissipated as we continued to sing and I felt Laura’s hand slowly work its way back around to my thighs. When her gloved hands brushed across my lump, I came close, but managed to hang on. How much longer I could make it was anybody’s guess. I suppose that the utter amazement I felt at such an overwhelmingly unexpected response was enough to distract my body long enough to abstain from erupting.
As we continued singing, her fingers stroked up and down the length of my prick. When we belted out the high notes at the end of the verse, she would give me a little squeeze.
I frankly do not understand how I was able to continue singing and to refrain from producing great gobs of liquid evidence. I began wondering if there were some way I could sneak away and finish the job before I passed out.
Somehow, my fervent wishes were fulfilled. The people we were caroling invited us in for a little “punch” and I managed to convince the others that we should accept because I really needed to use their bathroom. Boy, did I!
“You mean ‘Jake, the camel’ actually admits to producing waste water like the rest of us?” My darling wife was amazed. She had never known me to go to the toilet in a public place before. Even on long car trips, when the rest of the family would be running for the restrooms at gas stops, I would simply wait in the car. My bladder was famous for its capacity.
It wasn’t my bladder that was full now, but I sure needed to go. “Laugh all you want, my love. I don’t normally need to go as often as everybody else, but that last cup of punch must have been too much. May I please use your bathroom, folks?”
They gave me directions and I nearly ran, trying to walk straight and still hide the Tower of Power. Locking the door behind me, I leaned over the sink and gave just two or three pulls before my world exploded. It seemed to go on forever. It just wouldn’t stop. I would think that the last spurt had flowed out the tip when I would remember what got me there in the first place. The memory of her hands on me and the excitement of wondering why they had been there, together with the potential implications for our future relationship ... It all came together and so did I--again and again.
“Are you ok in there Jake?”
It was Laura’s voice! Laura was standing just on the other side of a thin door panel while I stood there with my pants around my ankles and my swollen dork still clutched in my sticky hands. Unbelievably, I was once more at full attention.
“What’s taking you so long, Jake? Is everything ok?”
She was obviously laughing at the complete and total power she had over me. She knew exactly what I was doing and why. Perhaps that was why she had groped me--just to exercise her power. Maybe she thought that 29 was too old to have retained her full powers and just wanted to put her mind at rest. If her powers were any higher when she was younger, it was just as well that I hadn’t known her then.
“Do you need any help?” She was whispering now.
I managed to squeak out a reply. “No, you’ve helped quite enough, thank you.”
“Any time, Jake. Any time.”
Did I hear that or was it simply my damaged brain making up things to satisfy the thing that had damaged it by draining all the blood away from it?
“Uh, what?” I had to get some kind of confirmation.
“You heard me. Now clean up that mess and come back in here. Maybe you better open a window to let some fresh air in. I asked to go next so I could delay Donna long enough to let some of the fumes out.” She started banging on the door. “Come on out, Jake. Others need to go, too.”
I knew it was for show and silently thanked her for all the above. She wasn’t missing anything. As a test of our new relationship, I left one long strand sticking to the mirror in such an obvious spot that she wouldn’t be able to overlook it and leave it to be found by Donna.
As I left the room, she gave me a wicked little conspiratorial smile and a grope of my recently pounded crotch, in passing.
My return to the living room went completely unnoticed, at least I thought so. Everyone was sipping their punch and laughing animatedly at nothing in particular.
Laura rejoined us in a few minutes and Donna took her turn. Long minutes passed as I waited to see her expression when she came out.
With great relief, I was unable to detect anything in her face to indicate that she knew or suspected anything.
“Come on, gang, let’s hit the musical trail again. Time’s a’wastin’ cowpokes.”
“Oh, shut up Roy.”, they chorused.
At our next site, I was unsure just what the drill would be. I leaned forward to put my lips near Laura’s ear. “Did you get my present?”
She nodded just enough for me to see it and I thought I heard a faint, “Unh-huh”.
When the opportunity presented itself, she reached into her coat pocket and stuck something soft in my hand, which had somehow found her hip again. (I’ll have to look into that wandering hand business sometime.)
Looking down very casually, I saw that she had given me a tiny pair of panties, wadded into a ball. Wrapping them into my handkerchief, I pretended to be wiping my nose as I sniffed them. Whoa! I wasn’t the only one who had fun in the bathroom tonight. My smell I had no problem recognizing, but there was other wetness and a tantalizing smell that was almost new to me, then I realized I had smelled it many times and just never before realized what it was.
A groan escaped my throat.
“What’s the matter, honey? Are you coming down with something? First you break the first rule of machismo to use somebody else’s bathroom and now you’re groaning. Are you falling apart on me?” My wife was only partially joking.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not Iron Jake or anything like that, but such displays are not part of my everyday life.
“Uh, I guess I got too close behind Laura and she stepped on my foot.”
“It’s not a foot, Jake. Can’t be an inch over ten.”
Everybody got a good chuckle at Donna’s jibe, but I noticed Laura’s eyes light up at the mention of “ten” and “inches”.
Soon, we were back in harmony and doing rather well, I might add, until I squeaked. Basses don’t usually squeak, but then basses don’t usually have Miss Ohmigod surreptitiously unzipping them and reaching in to grab with cold fingers.
“Seriously, Jake. Do you need to go home?”
“I’m ok, honey. Must be early Alzheimer’s.”
She gave me a suspicious look and went back to singing, but it was touch and go there for a minute as my dear wife is inquiring into my health while our good friend and co-caroler has her hands deep in my pants.
Undaunted, I pressed forward. Two could play at that game. I slid my hand into Laura’s coat pocket and used the silky pocket lining to caress her thighs. Just to verify things, I felt for a panty line. There was none, so she must have given me the ones she had on. The memory of the way they smelled caused a squirt of pre-cum into her stroking hand.
I used the hand in her pocket to pull her firm ass back into me. Her hand was trapped between us as she continued to squeeze and caress me. Soon, I found her very puffy lips and delighted in the feel of the silky lining over her equally silky dress that I was pushing slowly into her moistness. She was going to have as big a wet spot on her dress as the one on my pants. I would show her!
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-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Tuck, Tuck, Goose! Copyright 1997 by Ellen Hayes. No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when used for...
This story, although fictitious, is based heavily on true events and true people, just the names have been changed and it's mostly my own fantasies that are touched upon in the actions.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was a brisk chilly Christmas eve, the 24th of December.I was staying with my gorgeous girlfriend at her mum's house. My parents were away on holiday and my girlfriend always spends Christmas with her mother, and...
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"Are you ready, yet?", Samantha hollered from their bedroom."Just a little while longer, Baby!", Rick yelled back. "I'll come get you! You just keep watching that video I bought you!"It was Christmas Eve, and Rick had spent hours upon hours planning this night to give Sam her "special" Christmas present, and here it was, Christmas Eve, and all his efforts were coming to fruition. Rick told Samantha to dress up in one of her sexiest, see-thru negligees and watch the video while he set everything...
Keeping things fresh after 10 years of marriage is difficult. It was a fact that our sex life had been on the wane for quite a while before Amy came along, Amy being my husband’s 23 year-old girlfriend. I must admit that I laughed in his face and told him that he must be delusional when he claimed that our beautiful blonde neighbour had propositioned him for sex; the sudden spark we found in the bedroom meant I had played along with his supposed-fantasies and I had been trapped by the truth...
Quickie SexWe area mature coupe, I am 66 and my wife is 60 works out is in good shape and most people guess her to be in her 40s. I am not well endowed and now at my age seldom get hard. My wife has confessed that she has fantasies about younger hung black men and I have encouraged her to act them out, but as far as I know she has refused to do so. Here is my fantasy about what happens on Christmas. We live in a rural lake community not far from a few large truckstops. I suggest to her there are probably...
Maybe it was how free the boy was with the boisterous crowd on Saturday afternoon in the Bamberg, Germany, beerhall, with him touching them and they touching him and patting his bottom as he passed. Despite the close quarters and the hands-on flirting, the boy was managing to swing up to six full beer steins in his hands without losing a drop of lager. The array of steins looked almost as big as he did in his short-legged leather lederhosen despite it being in the middle of December. He looked...
I’ve had so many emails asking me to please repost this story. So to all of you who loved it, here you go. Thanks so much for the emails and the wonderful comments. * * * ‘Please God, can my mommy come home and visit for Christmas?’ The words, uttered in the sweetest voice of the curly haired blonde little girl, tore at her father’s heart. Nathan could feel a thickness in the back of his throat and tears mist in his eyes as he stared at his youngest daughter kneeling beside her bed staring...
I guess my problem started during Christmas vaca- tion when I was 18. My parents were on a two week second honeymoon in France, and my Aunt Jill had agreed to take care of our rather large house and of me. Jill, who was 28 at the time, was still recovering from the shock of losing her husband in an automobile accident, so I was skeptical about my chances of having a merry Christmas in the midst of so much gloom. To my great surprise, though, Jill's spirits were high, and the two days before...
The first half of his college freshman year was the most sexually frustrating period of Luke Gerard's life. He was tall, handsome with his mother's blue eyes and his dad's dusty blonde hair, and had taken a baseball scholarship at Brown University. All of these factors lined up to get him laid, and he had still been dumb enough to try the long distance think with his high school sweetheart Kelly Gibbons. So he had resisted. He had been faithful. And he hadn't been home three hours before she...
It was Saturday December s*******nth 1988. Tyler was playing a video game when his mom came down the stairs. Her high heals clicking quickly across the hardwood floor as she was making her quick exit from the house. He paused as I was sure she was going to give him more instructions about dinner and what time she'd be back. She looked at her self in a nearby mirror and gave one more adjustment on her black mini-skirt, and of her breasts before turning towards him, to fill him in on tonight's...
I stood alone in a little bathroom cubicle at the market, leaning against the sink. I was breathing heavily, trying to calm myself down. My efforts were not successful. I could still taste Jack in my mouth and feel the sensation of his lips on my neck. I lifted a hand, ran it through my blonde hair, then rubbed my neck with my palm. I moaned and wriggled. Then I danced in excitement with my feet.Then I steeled myself. I hadn't gone to the bathroom to pee. I needed to steady myself, and I...
TransMuggles that saw it would swear, jokingly, that it was held together by magic. Wizzarding folk, on the other hand, would know that that is exactly what is holding it together. A cold biting wind flows and weaves its way around the outside of the building, as if seeking a way in, drawing a fresh flurry of snow with it, which slowly makes its way down to the ground, adding to the drifts which lay all around, the countryside blanketed in pure, unbroken fields of white. Two figures, deeply...
Feedback is appreciated. Oh, how I love the hustle and bustle of Christmas. Nothing is better than ten days off from work, holiday vacations, tasty treats, and… oh yeah – the Christmas shopping. The mall is always packed with beautiful Holiday treats this time of year, making it the perfect time for me to do some shopping. I decided to start in the food court and slowly work my way around to all of the hip fashion stores. There was no need to rush; after all, I didn’t want to bring...
I am Charlie the gnome. Not the type you would put on a rockery or in the garden. I am too little for that. I am what you might call, a Christmas tree gnome. It is not my fault I am a gnome. It is my master who makes me pay a penance for accidentally setting fir to his implements of wizardry. He as a true wizard, sure enough. If I had any doubts before I know now for certain. He has the audacity to plant me on the Christmas tree with other gnomes and Christmas tree decorations with the...