Sarah's Sexploits - 'Tis the Season to be Jolly

T Red K

Description

Enjoy some sexy festive fun with Sarah and Emil. When Sarah can't decide what to buy the man who has everything for Christmas, she enlists the help of an old lover to give him the thrill of his life and make one of his fantasies come true. Throw in some roleplay over Christmas lunch, a spine tingling, gold filled New Year and an offer that takes Sarah's breath away and you have the sexiest way to celebrate the season of goodwill.

Sujets

• Erotic literature

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 03 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782345183
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
SARAH’S SEXPLOITS:
Tis The Season To Be Jolly




By
K T Red



Publisher Information
Sarah’s Sexploits: Tis The Season To Be Jolly
published in 2012 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © K T Red 2012
The right of K T Red to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



The Story So Far...
It’s been quite an eventful year. I started the year as - well, to be perfectly blunt - a bit of a player. Then I started a no-strings-attached thing with a married guy from work, followed shortly by the same arrangement with my boss. Not to mention the occasional girly dalliance with the most gorgeous and sexy auditor - if that isn’t a contradiction in terms!
I got bored with Scott after a few steamy sessions - especially when I realised that apart from a huge cock he had not one single appealing trait. But that was how my life was. Find a hunk, fuck him, find out he’s a shit, get the hell away from him as quickly as possible and then on to the next. Fuck him, find out he’s a shit, etc, etc. Well, you get the picture. Leopards and spots.
Lovely, lithe, cute Annie was always just a bit of an occasional indulgence. You know what it’s like - a little bit of what you fancy does you good and we all like to scratch our itch once in a while. Sadly, she moved abroad with work and that was that. I do miss her but not enough to find a replacement.
My boss turned out to be something altogether more wonderful. He takes me at my word when I ask him to pinch me because I think I’m dreaming. He’s smart, funny, kind, sensitive and so damn sexy that he makes me drool - and not just from my mouth! Emil knew exactly what I needed and fought me every step of the way until I realised it. Emil. Did I tell you he was French? Well, he is and I love him anyway!
He rescued me - physically as well as morally. I’ve had some issues over the years which I’ve locked away. Emil’s the only man I’ve trusted enough to let him help me come to terms with my past. It took a shocking act of violence to drag it out of me and, although it almost tore us apart, we’re stronger for it. He’s always known about my darkness and sharing it with him finally brings me some light at the end of a very long tunnel.
He made me promise that I’d have counselling to help me bury the past and I’m glad that he did. I feel liberated, like I’ve been set free, like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. In return, he promised me that he wouldn’t treat me differently. And he hasn’t! He’s as rampantly horny and passionate as he ever was and sex with him is better than any therapy. Every now and then, I catch him sneaking a watchful glance at me but instead of it angering me as it would have done a few months ago, I find it makes me love him even more.
But....there’s a problem in paradise. And unfortunately it’s a big one.
Along with all his other wonderful qualities, Emil happens to be quite wealthy. Not super, mega-bucks, disgustingly, filthy rich but nicely comfortable. He’s got a fabulous penthouse, a seaside chalet which I adore with all my heart, a flashy sports car and so many other nice things.
What the fucking hell am I going to get him for Christmas?



Chapter One
For a woman of my age, I find myself extremely embarrassed by the fact that I’ve never had to buy a Christmas present for a man before. Ever! My father died when I was only a few years old and I have no brothers or brothers in law or nephews. I’ve never been in a relationship during the festive season other than one which didn’t merit the exchanging of names, never mind gifts!
I’ve done all the normal, traditional things that women everywhere do year in, year out. You know, the stereo-typical man gifts. I’ve looked at clothes, music, arty stuff and even a course of cookery lessons - which believe me he really needs. His parents weren’t much help. The gorgeous Stanley told me that I would know in my heart when I had found the right gift. You can see where Emil gets his overly healthy charm from! His mother laughed and said that he was just as difficult to buy for when he was a little boy.
So I’m a bit stumped. I can’t buy him novelty socks, for crying out loud! Despite his wealth, Emil isn’t a very materialistic kind of guy. I don’t want to buy him a tie or cufflinks or a bottle of the aftershave that makes him smell so damn good. I want to find something special, something personal but I am absolutely out of my depth. We’ve got loads of toys and he’s already bought me so much sexy underwear that I could start my own shop - even though it never stays on very long!
If money was no object - which it is seeing as I haven’t gone back to work at the factory yet- I’d whisk him away for the entire holiday period. Somewhere really swanky where I could pamper him and seduce him repeatedly. Or maybe I could buy a massive food hamper and kidnap him and force him to drive to the chalet. But we’d never fit it in that tiny little sports car of his.
I’ve even been bold enough to ask him outright if there’s anything in particular he wants for Christmas. He usually responds by grabbing hold of me, dragging me off to bed and completely ravishing me until we’re both totally exhausted. Then I respond by telling him that like a pet I’m for life, not just for Christmas and that Christmas only comes once a year!
But I am fast running out of time. It’s only a week away. I know he’s bought mine because there’s a very expertly wrapped box or two under the tree at my house and he says that he’s got something extra special for me which he’s saving for New Year. I got all misty eyed when we bought a real tree and loads of decorations. I never used to bother when it was just me but I have a reason to celebrate now. And it’s him.
I felt like I was missing a limb when he went to New York on business for a few days last week. I hadn’t realised quite how much I’d got used to having him around. It was horrible. For the first time in my life, I felt lonely. The bed felt empty - I felt empty! He called me all the time. I certainly wouldn’t want to pay his roaming charges. I met him at the airport, holding up a card with his name on one side and “I’ve missed you!” on the other and tears in my eyes.
Oh dear God! I’m walking around this bloody shop getting emotional. Oh! What’s that? My bag’s making a funny noise. Ah! It’s a text message. I wonder what my festive friend wants this time?
“Oh!” I stare at the small screen open mouthed, not quite able to believe who it’s from. That’s a serious blast from the past. Wow! Oh wow! Well, that’s actually taken my breath away. As I begin to send a reply, divine inspiration slaps me in the face and I cancel the text, hitting the call option instead. “Hi! Oh my God! How amazing to hear from you. I’m fine - in fact, I’m more than fine. Listen, can you meet for lunch tomorrow and we can catch up properly? Fantastic! Usual place? Great. See you about oneish.”
Sliding the phone back into my bag, there’s a big smile all over my face. The shop assistant looks at me with her well-rehearsed polite for the customers smile. “Good news, madam?”
“The best. I’ve just found the perfect Christmas present for my lovely man!”



Chapter Two
Most people, men or women, usually suit either casual clothes or formal, work clothes according to their personality. Emil looks great in either jeans and t-shirts or business suits - though personally I prefer him naked. I love the dark grey suit he’s got on this morning. It makes him look all ruthless and powerful and extremely sexy.
“Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?”
He walks back over to the bed, sneaks a hand under the duvet and fondles a breast. “Like you could devour me whole.”
I bite my bottom lip. “Me? You’re the one groping my tit!” I squeal with laughter as he tickles me before pulling the duvet back and blowing raspberries on my stomach. “Emil! You swine!”
He kisses me hard and fast before throwing the cover back over me. “Oh, you devil woman. You will be the most delicious death of me.”
“You’re destroying your ruthless businessman image.” And I love him for it. With everything we’ve been through, it makes my soul sing that we’ve not lost our sense of fun and enjoyment of each other. He laughs, sitting on the bed and wrestling with his tie. “I’d like to tie you to the bed with that tie!”
He turns and growls at me. “If you don’t behave yourself, I will strap you to the bed with the lights from the Christmas tree!”
“Mmmm. I’ll hold you to that!”
“Peach!” Leaning back over the bed, he strokes my face and gives me another quick kiss. “I will also tickle your bits with the tinsel!” I feel a hand back under the duvet, pinching my ass this time. “So, do you have any plans for today?”
I sit up in bed and shuffle to sit behind him as he finishes with his tie. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I nibble at his ears, getting rewarded with another grumbling growl. “I could have some seriously sexy fun with you if you stayed at home with me.”
He slaps my ass and pushes me back in the bed, cursing and laughing. “Behave yourself!”
“Spoilsport!” I sigh and pout. “As a matter of fact, I do have p