If you were unable to concentrate on Christmas for wondering what would happen in the final episode of this story, then here it is! Enjoy.
An XXXMAS Carol
VI - The Thrilling* Climax
*Thrilling for me anyway because I've finished it.
Scroogella lay there staring up at her white ceiling, it glowed with the ambient white light which enters one's room the morning after a heavy snowfall heedless of how well drawn the curtains are. Had it all been a dream she asked herself as she lay there. Over all she decided that it had not. Three things gave it away to her. The first was that she was laying in bed naked. She had retired the previous evening in her freshly washed and pressed PJs. Now she was butt-ass naked. Scroogella had never slept naked in her entire life.
Indeed previous to her recent night time adventures, she'd resolutely avoided showing any skin at all, if possible. She tended towards full blouses and long pencil skirts. When she changed in the morning and evening, she usually did it under a towel or her bathrobe, to avoid even the slightest hint of nudity. She would have quite happily bathed dressed if possible, and indeed, had for a while worn a swim suit when she'd showered.
On this Christmas morning though, she was naked. Nude. Starkers. In the buff. Unclothed. So that was some evidence that all that she had experienced had been slightly more than a particularly vivid dream.
The second factor which reinforced her suspicions that this was the case was the fact that she seemed to be laying in a small puddle of her own making. She sniffed the air cautiously, then slipped a finger under the sheets to take a sample of the moisture. She sniffed her damp finger tentatively, then after a small look around her empty room, she tasted it with a quick flick of her long pink tongue. It tasted exactly like the smell of her excitement when Eros had knelt between her legs. She sucked her finger thoughtfully as she examined the third, and most damning evidence that her visitations had been real.
On the floor by her dresser, against the wall, there sat an open hamper. Sticking up from its jumbled contents where a 4 foot long riding crop and two dildos, one the exactly shape and size of her own hand. The second appeared to be modelled either after a horse or one of the happiest men alive. The hamper itself wasn't the third piece of evidence, oh no. On the wall above it someone had used lipstick to scrawl this message all over her prettily patterned paper. It read. "Scroogella, it wasn't a dream. Not at all. 100% real. Remember! Bob!" Under that in slightly smaller letters was this "PS remember that DVD for Beth, k?".
Scroogella grimaced and sat up right, causing her covers to fall away from her stupendous breasts. It really had not been a dream then, she thought. Everything had really happened. The things with Mr. Herms, with Pandora and Dan. Mmmm... Dan... so dreamy now. Eros too had been real. Wow.
Scroogella smiled slowly. The lessons she had learned overnight taking shape in her mind and soul. She could be more sexually liberated without demeaning herself. Or if she wanted to demean herself, then that too was fine, as long as she wished it to be so. As long as she was happy with her decisions and respected herself. By the time she had come to this conclusion the smile on her face was as big as her heaving chest below it. She could be slut if she wanted! She could do all those disgusting things she had heard about.
Her only problem now was what to do first? What should her first act as a sexually active young lady be?! Something utterly disgusting, but with Bob. Yes, she decided suddenly, she'd go to Bob's house and give him ass to mouth as his Christmas gift. She hoped there was something in that hamper to use as wrapping paper for herself.
As she was slipping out of her warm and somewhat swampy bed, Scroogella heard a car pull up outside of her house. Quick as a flash and naked as a monkey who's awful at strip poker, she ran to her window. She shouldered open the curtains then pushed open both parts of the window widely. She looked out, her breasts resting on the window frame, her nipples hardening with the chill midwinter air.
"You there," she shouted. "You, young urchin, here's a shiny six pence, now run as fast as you can to the nearest sex shop and there purchase for me the largest pot of lubricant they have. And batteries, lots of batteries."
"I'm 34," came the reply from below.
"Sorry," said Scroogella.
"And I'm a quantity surveyor. Not an urchin. It's hardly a job an urchin could do now, is it?" The voice continued in its reedy nasal tones.
"No," said Scroogella meekly.
"And the six pence hasn't been legal tender in this country since monetary decimalization in 1971."
"-" said Scroogella.
"And even if it were, what with economic inflation, that amount of currency isn't going to get you all that you wanted, that lot would be at least £40," the 34 year old quantity surveyor paused for a second and adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Even if you wanted really cheap batteries it would be £30. Anyway you're better off with rechargables, it's a false economy to buy disposable batteries these days. It's also better for the environment if you get rechargables." He stopped, finally and blew his nose on a handkerchief.
"Uhm, could you just do you best and I'll owe you? I'm kind of out of cash at the moment, I wasn't expecting to do anything but stay at home today." Scroogella asked feeling somewhat abashed. It wasn't everyday she stood topless in her window taking to the biggest pedant in the world.
"Well," he began. "Well I could, only I can't imagine many sex shops being open, it being the celebratory day of our Lord." Before Scroogella could respond he went on. "Only there's no evidence that the nativity happened at this time of year, so really all we do these days is perpetuate an ancient midwinter pagan celebration masked with a veneer of the orthodox Christian legacy. Not that I mind, I put together the nativity play every year. We even had a real donkey this year."
"That's nice," responded a bewildered and mentally battered Scroogella.
"Well you say that, you say that and might well you think it was true," the annoying man replied evenly, tucking his handkerchief back into his back pocket neatly folded. "It was very nice up until young Billy Spriggs lost an ear. I did warn his mother that a young man with long ginger hair shouldn't be so close that near to the donkey's feeding time. It saw that mass of bright orange and bit down hard, thinking it was carrots. And we'll never get all that blood off the floor. I should know."
Scroogella wisely decided not to enquire why this man should know or not know about cleaning up spilt blood. Instead she took matters into her own hands.
"I'll tell you what, if you get me what I asked for I'll do anything you want later this afternoon. Any. Thing." She stressed the word as hard as she could whilst taking as much of her large breasts in hand as was possible and jiggling them at this irritating, infuriating man.
He swallowed once and nodded, then retrieved the handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his forehead with it, forgetting the last use it was put to, leaving a long green smear above his eyes.
Scroogella felt her stomach heave. "Do you think you can do that for me?" She asked sweetly.
"Well I was going to go home and watch a DVD I had as a present. It's Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I've never seen it."
"Phew," said the author, mightily relieved the man hadn't realised exactly how stolen his opening lines in this story had been.
"Oh," said Scroogella. "Well do what you will, but be back in thirty minutes if you want a chance at using my nubile firm and currently utterly virginal body."
"Your body's virginal?" The man asked.
"Yes." Scroogella had a sinking feeling that she knew what was about to come next.
"You mean you're a legless member of the harpsichord family who, when plucked, makes a flute-like noise?"
"Listen buster, if you want me to play your flute-like instrument before you pluck me, then get in your car and fetch me lube and batteries, clear?"
The man nodded and left swiftly. As she waited for his return, Scroogella sorted methodically through the hamper she had been left by her spirit guides. As well as the previously mentioned ginormous dildos it also contained a wide range of vibrators, anal plugs, clamps and clips. Also present were handcuffs, a spreader bar, blindfold, manacles and shackles. Moving all these aside with a loud drawn out metal clattering she discovered such unimagined wonders as a strap-on, a gimp mask complete with O ring mouth piece, a speculum, and what appeared, to all intents and purposes to be reins and a bit as you might see on a horse.
Scroogella knew she had months and months of fun and adventure in her future whilst she explored all of these new and exciting sex toys. But for now, she needed to find something to wear which would please Bob. She knew without looking that there was nothing in her wardrobe which could be considered sexy by even the most encouraging of people. It was all frilly tops and sensible bottoms. She didn't even own a set of underwear which finished above her knees!
This being the case Scroogella started digging through the hamper. Underneath the myriad of toys was a layer of interesting items. She pulled one out at random. It was a terribly skinny tshirt which bore the slogan "Slut". She grinned at this. It was clear that the top would barely fit her. It would finish just below her nipples too, leaving the entire underside of her large breasts visible. She was definitely wearing that some time soon. For today, however, it didn't feel quite suitable.
After a few minutes of pulling out and examining various items she had what she thought would be perfect for this Christmas day. Clothes chosen she took a quick shower, making sure she cleaned both her anus and pussy in anticipation of the use they were to get later on. As she pushed a greased up finger into her tight unexplored behind she almost swooned with joy right there in the shower.
Once she had recovered from this faintness she shaved her legs and pussy, leaving it feeling extremely sensitive. After drying off Scroogella went and donned her chosen outfit. She rolled the black stockings up her legs, then after few false starts, attached it to a suspender belt. Her pussy looked amazing like this. All smooth and sleek framed with the black of both belt and stocking tops. She liked the view so much she resolved to not cover it up until she had shown it to as many people as she possibly could.
On her breasts she wore a quarter cup lacy bra, letting her ample flesh spill over the top. "My cups really do runth over with joy," she giggled to herself as she pulled hard on her nipples to keep them erect and large.
After slipping on a pair of 8 inch heeled ankle boots she examined herself critically in the mirror. Who wouldn't want to fuck her she wondered, coming to the conclusion that there was no one who would not be enticed by her on this day. Her cunt was as plump as a fat Christmas turkey, her large breasts as full and rounded as two of the most enormous puddings you'd ever seen. Her long legs leading up to her full rear and narrow midsection.
Scroogella gathered up some of the most interesting toys and placed them into a bag then headed downstairs to wait, near naked on the pavement outside her house. Despite the chillness of the snow covered day, she didn't feel anything but her own burning lust to be fucked. That kept her warmer than long woollen clothes or stout shoes.
A short while later the man returned. He stared hard as he parked up by Scroogella, his eyes glued to her inviting lips and big hard nipples. Scroogella smiled at him as she settled herself in the passenger seat. The man gulped then finally introduced himself.
"I'm Brian by the way," he said, unable to take his gaze off this vision of gorgeous flesh which sat in his car.
Scroogella introduced herself in turn, taking the mans hand and shaking it politely before pushing it down between her toned thighs to let this helpful Samaritan have a good grope of her wet cunt in return for his continuing assistance. He rubbed and squeezed all over her lips, rubbing inexpertly at her clit before pushing two fingers deep inside of her.
"Did you get what I wanted?" Scroogella asked as he enjoyed her body.
"Well, like i said earlier, there was no way any sex shop would be open today, but I found a corner shop where I got the batteries easily. I did have to improvise on the lube tho." He nodded his head to the back seat. Scroogella looked over her shoulder to see what he had gotten instead of lubricant.
On the rear seat sat three large plastic tubs each labelled "goose fat". It would have to do Scroogella thought to herself as she removed Brian's fingers from her wet hole and sucked them clear before setting them on the steering wheel. She gave Brian her beloved Bob's address and they set over. Scroogella didn't miss a single chance all the way there to flash her large breasts at any families taking a Christmas morning walk.
The vicar of her local church, St. Frottagers, was almost overcome with the sight of his once chaste parishioner's heaving bosom. We got so breathless that his wife had to immediately take him home for a nice long lie down after an hour of horse whipping as penance for his ungodly thoughts.
As Brian drives Scroogella along the highways and byways of town, we can find Bob Scratchit, still ignorant of the surprise travelling towards him at a steady 20 miles per hour, was laying his table. Although thus far you may have been under the impression that Bob was a lonely pathetic man whose only pleasures in life involved pushing season treats into his rear end while simultaneously weeping and masturbating over images of other men's wives. In reality this was far from the truth. He led a multifaceted and busy social life. It was often said by his acquaintances that everyone knew Bob and that Bob knew everyone right back. Who said this of the man? Everyone of course, because they all knew him, and furthermore, liked him greatly.
It was this great and varied social life which had caused Bob to inadvertently invite so many people to have Christmas dinner at his house. Over the last two months, whenever anyone had remarked to him that they had no plans for the festive season, Bob, benevolent as ever, would invite them to his own celebrations. This had occurred on such a large scale however that the numbers involved now had grown to well over 50. Thankfully the Tesco family sized turkey was more than large enough to feed such an amount of hungry people.
So it was that Bob had been up since dawn, stuck in a hot greasy kitchen. He had been busy peeling carrots, roasting potatoes, boiling sprouts and sprouting boils. Now at last, as the clock struck midday he was finished with all his preparation and therefore was happy when all of his friends from the rugby club arrived a few minutes later bearing a giant keg of beer. He greeted them warmly, bid them welcome and to make themselves at home on this happiest of days.
For the next half an hour a small stream of people were to be seen making their way to Bob Scratchit's front door. His friends from the cricket team, the people he knew from the local pub along with a good half dozen people who knew a good thing when they saw it so slipped in for free food when they spotted the opportunity.
By the time Scroogella arrived with Brian, the Scratchit household was showing all the classic signs of a party in full swing. The convivial pre-luncheon drinks had done their trick, leaving all involved in the highest of spirits and the bottles of spirits themselves near to empty.
Scroogella had Brian park up in Bob's driveway and bid him bring her bag full of sex toys. As he staggered under the weight of them Scroogella knocked on the door very loudly and rang the bell a number of times. Finally, with a merry Christmas smile plastered all over his face, the door was answered by one Bob Scratchit.
Scroogella stood there in her stockings, suspender belt and notional bra and wished him the merriest of holidays before dropping to her knees to pull his penis from his trousers. As Scroogella sucked her boyfriend hard in her small wet mouth he was lost for words. Was this really the same woman who just yesterday refused him even hands-over-tops? Now she was kneeling in full view of the entire street along with half of his invited guests gagging noisily on his erect member. What on earth had come over his once frigid girlfriend? He wasn't sure what the answer to that was, but if she wasn't careful, he knew what was about to come all over her. Yes indeed!
Scroogella sensed Bob's approaching climax, swiftly pulling him clear of her eager tongue. She didn't want those particular present sacks emptied just yet. Instead she took ahold of his rigid pole and guided him to his just-laid table. There she pushed the large turkey off, onto the floor and took it's place her ass sticking up invitingly. As everyone gathered round she took her pot of goose fat and smeared it all over that virgin rear hole and invited Bob to stuff her instead of the other bird. Only with his penis, not with Paxo stuffing.
Bob, hardly believing his luck, needed no second invitation and before you could say "up the chimney" was balls deep in Scroogella's tight ass. He fucked her fast and hard, all the time being cheered on by his many guests. Scroogella enjoyed every moment of it, she loved him pushing in and out of her. How he grabbed her hips and called her a whore as he made it hurt. She loved how half of the men present were masturbating openly, some slapping her face or tits with their cocks. She knew she'd take them all before the day was done. First though, there was Bob.
When she felt him tense up, she urgently told him to finish in her mouth. Which he did, giving her the taste of her ass until it was replaced by his huge white spew of cum, leaving her tongue more covered than the snowy ground outside.
Once Bob had gotten his ass-to-mouth Christmas wish, he declared open season on his girlfriend. All afternoon Scroogella was fucked. Everyone there had at least three helpings of her. By the time she was almost done she was as sticky and gooey as Christmas pudding. Thankfully however no-one covered her in brandy and set it alight.
When she was almost finished satiating all the men present, an extremely large gentleman approached her and doffed his cap. In a strong Dornish accent he introduced himself as Timothy.
"But they calls me Tiny Tim, Miss Scroogella," he explained as he pulled off his shirt and pants.
"Who calls you that?" Scroogella asked politely.
"Well mainly Ironic Ian. It's on account of I'm so large."
"Yes I rather got that," said Scroogella.
And indeed Tiny Tim was so huge in the underpants department that after he had finished with Scroogella she could quite easily insert a whole honey glazed ham into her lady parts. Well, it was glazed with honey when it went in. What covered it afterwards was something no one really discussed over ham sandwiches later on.
Having finished with Tim, Scroogella found herself face to face with Bob once more. He looked deep into her eyes and pushed a strand of her hair free of from the cummy mess of her face. He smiled broadly. "I love you," he told her as they shared a semen infused kiss. After that was done they sat side by side. Scroogella sat on a cushion. A very, very soft one.
"I can't believe what a slut you've become Scroogella," Bob remarked as he slapped her sore tits playfully. "Why you must have taken every man here twice at least and received well over 100 loads of spunk!"
"Not quite every man," a fussy little voice piped up as Brian emerged from the crowd of tired looking men eating ham sandwiches with looks of disgust on their faces in the centre of the room.
"Oh Brian, of course, I told you I'd do anything you asked for. What would you like?" Scroogella offered graciously.
Brian cough and looked embarrassed. "What is it, I don't mind, anything you like. Is it a golden shower?"
"Well you know how I said I was in charge of the nativity this year..." Brian began nervously.
"Yes, with a real donkey and everything, it sounded very good . . . oh. Oh my." Scroogella thought for a moment and then nodded. "I did say anything didn't I?"
Brian nodded happily.
"And so you want . . ?" Scroogella began.
Brian nodded again.
And so it was on this most sexual of Christmas days that Scroogella finished her celebrations by performing a donkeyshow in a MDF stable in the Town Hall to the rapturous acclaim of all those who watched.
Afterwards she lay covered in stickiness once more in the straw. Bob lay down next to her and held her close.
"This is the best Christmas ever," he declared.
Well, wasn't that something to warm the cockles of your heart. I hope someone out there enjoyed it anyway. Hope you all had an ace xmas, even if you didn't get to go to a donkeyshow.
More sex and buffoonery to come from me in the new year I suppose.
I might stick this whole stupid xxxmas carol up as a pdf and various ebook formats just as a test run for sorting out my future books. I really have way too much time on my hands, I know.
Happy new year to y'all. See you on in 2012!