Tease Me Under the Mistletoe

“I’m so happy you came!” Stormy embraces me in a tight hug, just before she ushers me into the small, dark apartment. There are tiny, white Christmas lights strung up on any surface that will hold them and the tree, laden with ornaments takes up an entire corner of the living room. Michael Buble sings “Winter Wonderland” from somewhere in another corner, the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and cloves is almost overwhelming. There is a mix of old friends and people I haven’t yet met spread out throughout the apartment, dancing, drinking, and chatting.

image prompt for Masturbation Monday week 222 is Molly Moore's image called Mistletoe
Photo Credit: Molly Moore Image originally published as M is for Mistletoe and used with permission.

“I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it,” I bumble out, trying to be heard over the music. “My flight was nearly canceled.” I shrug out of my coat and Stormy takes it out of my hands. She leads me to her room so I can put up my bags before joining the rest of the party. Once I’ve set my bags on her bed, she wraps me in another hug.

“I’ve missed you, Jessi-Bear,” she sighs as I melt into her embrace. It’s been too long since I last visited. I’ve missed her more than she could possibly know, even if she thinks it’s just because we have been best friends since kindergarten.

I tighten the hug, taking in the smell of her rose scented shampoo – some things never change. I nestle into the crook of her neck, enjoying the way her arms feel heavy on my waist as if she means to hold me. She pulls away and I notice a twinkle resting in the crease of her nose. “You didn’t!” I shriek, my need turning into happiness, as I turn her face to get a better look at her new piercing.

“I did! Last week. I wanted to surprise you. I figured that if I kept waiting for you to go with me, we’d never get them done,” she laughs, making a joke at my aversion to piercings. Not that I don’t like piercings, I just don’t like needles and I have a hard time trusting someone to properly place a semi-permanent stud in my face.

“I suppose that’s fair,” I mumble, turning her face this way and that to watch how the light catches the opalescent jewel in the side of her nose. Pulling myself out of a trance from watching rainbows dance in my best friends newest piercing, I grab her hand and lead her towards the party. “We should get to this mingling thing!” I try to feign excitement, a fake, practiced smile resting on my face. But I really just want to do is spend the night catching up and gossiping like we used to.

We are nearly inseparable the entire night, arm in arm we make our way through the crowd, chatting, dancing, and drinking. Stormy introduces me to the new friends she has made during the couple of years I’ve been away and I catch up with friends we graduated high school with. A slew of Christmas songs blaring over the speakers and my hand never seems to be without a cup of Stormy’s famous holiday punch. Before I know it, it’s 2 am and the apartment is starting to empty.

Once we are finally alone, Stormy turns the music down and starts picking up a bit. She can’t stand to go to bed with a messy house, despite the fact that I know she’s exhausted. I attempt to help her straighten up a bit, but I’m unfamiliar with her new place. I gather empty cups in my arms and find her doing dishes in the kitchen. Standing in the archway, I ask “Where do these go?”

Stormy turns to see what “these” are and a sleepy smile overtakes her face. She drops the sponge into the soapy water, dries off her hands, and makes her way over to me. She stops a mere breath away from my body, I can feel the warmth coming off of her. My breath catches in my chest and my eyes are so wide I can feel them starting to water. She raises a hand between us, accidentally brushing her knuckles against my breast as she does, and points to the top of the archway.

I glance up and find a mistletoe hanging above us. As I look back down, Stormy catches my lip between hers and her hand comes to rest on my cheek. Her fingers are soft and caress the soft skin just in front of my ear. The kiss starts out innocent enough, we have drunkenly kissed many times in the past. But this seems different. Her hand moves to my hair, pulling me in, deepening the kiss, and then I feel her tongue gently prod at my closed mouth.

The cups I’m holding clatter to the floor, but our kiss doesn’t break and I wrap her in my arms as I open my mouth and our tongues entwine. She tastes like eggnog and holiday punch. She pulls back just enough to whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” I can feel her lips brush against mine as she justifies one of the biggest secrets I’ve ever kept from her.

“Me too,” I push my hands into her hair and pull her face back to mine. Our kiss grows hungrier and her hands move from my hair to my ribs. Her thumbs trace the opening of my flowing tank top, brushing against the outside of my breast. A shiver rips through my body and I push closer to her, I cannot get enough of her touch, her lips, the way she smells like booze and roses. It doesn’t take long before she goes from merely caressing the side of my breast to palming at it over my top.

Maybe it’s the alcohol and her making the first move, but I’m feeling braver than I ever have and I pull her into the living room to push her against the wall. My hands pin her hips to the wall as I move from her lips to her jaw bone, I can barely hear her moan above “All I Want for Christmas is You,” but it is music to my ears. I nip at her neck and her moan deepens, her hands digging into my ribs.

I follow the neckline of her shirt and lick the slight bit of cleavage that is peaking out. Her breath is hot on my neck as she sighs into the crook of my shoulder. She brings her knee up between my thighs, and I grind against her leg, my moans join hers as I continue to nibble on the top of her bosom.

Her voice is husky and melts into every pore on my body like chocolate fondue when she says “I’ve dreamed about this so many times.” I moan into her chest, my lips still on her soft flesh. She grabs my face and guides it back to hers, our lips crashing together once again.

Stormy spins us around and now I’m the one pinned against the wall, her hands graze down my rib cage and slip under the hem of my shirt. Her fingers teasing the base of my braless breast, she smiles against my lips and mumbles, “You’ve never liked bras.” And then her tongue is tracing the outline of my bottom lip. I shudder and moan under her touch and I feel a wetness gather between my thighs as my core clenches.

My hips tense and move forward on their own accord, lightly grinding against her hips. We both giggle at the boldness of it all, and her hand migrates to the waist of my leggings. She pulls away and makes eye contact as she slips a finger just into the elastic. She runs her knuckles across the sensitive flesh as her eyes ask a question that her mouth can’t seem to form. I nod and she slowly slips her entire hand into my pants, turning it so that her palm rests against my freshly waxed mound.

She bites at my lower lip as her index finger makes its way between the tip of my labia. She strokes the silkiness just above my clit, causing my breath to come in short puffs as my head thuds against the wall behind me. Stormy is now kissing and sucking at the base of my neck, her fingers slip further down my slit to gather some of my slickness and bring it back to my pulsing clit.

She draws slow circles around the hard little nub as I clutch at her shoulders. She smiles when I moan her name, a bare whisper above the music still playing in the background. Her breath feels hot on my skin, I feel like I’m drowning in pleasure that I have only been able to fantasize about up until this point.

When my body tenses as I edge up on an orgasm, Stormy stops her slow tease and sighs against the skin under my ear, “What do you say we move this to the bedroom?”

Stormy’s Holiday Playlist:

Masturbation Monday

 

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18 thoughts on “Tease Me Under the Mistletoe

  1. I’m not a huge fan of Xmas but this has reminded me that it doesn’t have to be eating to excess and endless consumerism. Unfortunately while the mistletoe is available the willing friend isn’t. Delightful story, thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m not a big fan of Christmas, either. And I was a little upset that the prompt was Christmas related. But somehow I was inspired by it. I, also, do not have a willing friend. Sadly. I’ve been having some serious girly feels lately.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This was so filled with yearning and suppressed desire – I totally loved it and it gave me all sorts of feels – I love reading FF. My favourite line has to be: Her voice is husky and melts into every pore on my body like chocolate fondue
    ~ that melted ME! Thanks for sharing. I shall have to check out your blog too!

    Liked by 1 person

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