A Winter Cottage Frolic
Based on a post by Drmaxc. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.
"Normally I meet up with my sister and her family at, we own this cottage. It was our great aunt's, and we've sort of kept it for holidays and so on. Sentimental really. Middle of nowhere but lovely in the summer and well, we usually meet there for Christmas but she can't this year so I might just stay here at the flat. Always fun with her children at the cottage, well her grandchildren now. A busy house and a real family Christmas, not having a family of my own. We got snowed in one year. The children, that was her children then, loved that. You know, snowmen, igloos, snowball fights and importantly plenty of wood for the fires. It's a bit basic."
"Sounds lovely. Like Father Christmas' place in Lapland. I can just imagine you there in your coat and boots."
"It's not a log cabin! And I don't usually dress like this. And not that much fun on your own, hence I might stay at my flat. I don't know, I might go but perhaps not the most sensible thing to do at my age, on my own. I shall probably give it a miss."
It was the next day, after their day's work. It was clear Sylvie had something to ask. As was becoming usual, she sat on Malcolm's lap. Upon the table the management had placed a bowl of fruit. They seemed to be looking after their Father Christmas.
"I wondered, Malcolm, I wondered if, Elvin and I were talking, and we don't really want just to stay in the flat over Christmas. It occurred to me, "
Sylvie picked up a banana from the bowl and fingered it. To Malcolm it was all rather suggestive the way she was moving it around her fingers.
"I mean you'd like to go to your cottage, but your sister can't make it with the children, and you don't want to be there alone. A shame, but would it be a second best, I mean sort of win-win, we get to go away, and you get to the cottage if, might we stay with you there over the holiday. It might snow and we get trapped in. Exciting! Would you mind?"
"We could take board games and snowy walks are always good and there's plenty of logs and coal to keep us warm. That's a nice idea, Sylvie. I'd be delighted to play host."
"Goody! You could bring your robe and be Father Christmas and we could wear elf outfits. What fun. I'd love to see you dressed like that out in real snow. And, and, Malcolm, we could have sex. We could play seasonal sexual games."
"But, Elvin?"
"How much do you like sharing, Malcolm? Do you like to watch and share?”
She had reached into his robe and was stroking him but had the banana in her other hand and made a pretense of having two cocks within her hands, pretending to wank the banana as she was wanking him. She brought the banana into his robe and against him, touching his erection with it and then holding them in her hands together. His penis curving away from the banana, the banana curving away from him until she squeezed, and his knob came up against banana. Sylvie was rubbing his cock against the banana.
Sylvie grinned, a very naughty look,
"Do you like to share a woman, Malcolm? I like the idea. I like the idea very much."
"But will Elvin?"
"He'll have to come to like it, no, I'm sure he will. I just like the idea, the thought of the three of us, your cock in my cunt and Elvin's cock in my mouth. Could you do it, Malcolm, would you mind, could you share my cunt with Elvin, and let me blow you as Elvin reams my ass?"
Beneath his snowy white beard Malcolm smiled at Sylvie,
"I don't think I'd have too much trouble about that."
" Elvin is a young man, and his load comes fast; often before I’ve had my satisfaction. That’s when I really need another cock, if needs be,"
Malcolm's seasonal employment was at an end. No work for a Father Christmas after the big day. Malcolm would be able to have a bit of a lie in now he was no longer a working man, though there were other pieces of work he seemed to be able to pick up. And he had his pension. But before a return to his more usual routine, he had a little seasonal break to attend to. A shame not seeing the grandchildren, but it seemed the disappointment was to be tempered by a different sort of pleasure. Sylvie and Elvin playing very different games. Malcolm packed his Father Christmas outfit and wondered what else to pack. Warm clothing certainly but what about pajamas? Would it matter if he met Sylvie or Elvin on the landing of the cottage both heading for the bathroom in the middle of the night if he was naked given what seemed in prospect? Malcolm's cock began to thicken as he thought of meeting a naked Elvin on the landing both stark naked and both 'piss proud.' Perhaps standing and conversing with their penises at full stand with the moonlight slanting in at the window. Not at all 'I'll met by moonlight, proud Titania.' Elvin was neither woman (or female fairy, if, perhaps, to be an elf!) and the prospect of meeting the young lad naked and erect was certainly not 'ill' to Malcolm. What might the little holiday at his cottage bring. Malcolm smiled remembering how Sylvie had rubbed the banana against him. Elvin's cock might well stand proud but not as proud as his. Malcolm could see the reflection in his mirror. He might be an old and very white-haired man but that was indeed some cock he sported. Malcolm stroked imagining not simply meeting Elvin by moonlight but a touching of their cocks, rubbing them there on the landing, soft penile skin and smooth knob ends stroking together.
Might perhaps Elvin beckon him and lead him into their bedroom to see Sylvie asleep. Unlikely in the winter the covers would be off, but it was a nice image. The two of them standing in the doorway looking at her sleeping form and both fellas wanking. Malcolm certainly was wanking at the thought, bringing himself to the edge imagining Elvin and he ejaculating together over the sleeping girl. A longer quotation from Midsummer Night's Dream came to him, one he had learnt by rote at school:
'I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight.'
Malcolm smiled. Sylvie as Titania in her bower, in her bed all unknowing as she is watched. How good for two men to come up to a sleeping girl. Take in her charms and cum all upon her.
Not take her as such or even touch but just cum. A not uncommon fantasy. Coming into the bedroom of a sleeping young woman, a babysitter or friend's daughter perhaps and looking.
Malcolm, though, needed to get going, needed to pack the car and collect the two of them. It was a long drive, and they would arrive late at the cottage. It was neither time to be wanking and certainly not to empty his balls into his hand or wherever: after all, he might well need that semen later on! He continued packing. No pajamas but he did have a nightshirt. That might be fun.
It was indeed a long drive, Sylvie ended up asleep in the front seat beside Malcolm and he was not sure that Elvin did not drop off as well in the back. They would not know where they were when they awoke; did not see the snow start to gently fall, not enough to impede the driving but enough to give the landscape a dusting of whiteness. Malcolm was sure there would be more by the morning. The car bumped up the final track and stopped outside the old stone cottage. The bumping and rocking of the car on the unmade track did not seem to wake Sylvie but the sudden quiet when the engine stopped did.
"Are we here?"
"We are indeed."
Malcolm opened the car door, and the flash of the car's internal light momentarily hid everything. They all got out and doors were closed plunging them back into darkness. Around them they could dimly make out the hills and moors and the sheer loneliness of the cottage.
"Oh, wow, it's snowed!"
Just a dusting still but it made the scene white even in the sudden darkness. Hardly a light to be seen anywhere, the cottage was remote, just the stars twinkling.
"Grab your bags and come on in." The car boot opened and then Malcolm reached for the old key and turned it in the lock of the front door to the cottage. He flicked the switch and the yellow glow of the electric light from inside the house was momentarily blinding, and then Malcolm was inside, and the others followed. First things first, the lighting of the wood burner to start to heat the house after its long rest. Then the kettle on, before Malcolm showed them around. Bags up to their bedroom and then he left them to it whilst he busied himself making tea and a late supper.
Good to sit around the wood burner as the room warmed. It was not time for sexual play. That would be on the morrow. This was just a comfortable settling in after a long journey and late arrival. Malcolm stayed sitting by the fire after his guests had gone up to bed. Sent with two hot water bottles. He heard the creaking of the floorboards above as they moved around and the on/off of the plumbing. It was good to be back at the cottage. He filled the wood burner so it kept warming the house through the night, needed after its long rest, and went around tidying, washing up and setting things ready for the morrow. Breakfast things set out upon the table.
Later, upstairs Malcolm donned his nightshirt. He stood in the darkness of his bedroom before getting into bed looking out of the window at the moonlit scene. The snow was falling heavier now. He rather suspected a lot would fall by morning. A white Christmas, at least up on the moors. Back at his flat he might well, at that time of night, been standing at his window with penis pressed against the glass watching Sylvie and Elvin cavort upon their bed. This night they were in the same cottage as him, two doors down the landing. Might they be copulating now, or already asleep? Malcolm lifted the cotton and allowed his newly erected cock to come out and touch the glass. It was cold but not enough to dampen his arousal. If they were copulating, would they mind him coming to watch? He did not think Sylvie would mind at all. Indeed, he looked at his bedroom door half wishing there to be a knock and she inviting him to come and see all. Malcolm stroked himself as he looked out upon the snowy landscape, his cock so delightfully turgid in his hand. Might he simply ejaculate upon them or join in? What was it going to be like when they did all have sex together? Elvin would not have come to the cottage; Sylvie would not have come if that was not really in prospect. Might Elvin offer his Sylvie rather more formally, even though he knew what Sylvie and Malcolm had done at the store. Perhaps not just a verbal invitation but a physical one.
A wetness against the cold glass, a leaking from Malcolm's big knob.
Of course, he wanted release, he nearly always came before bed. But not this night. He should keep it in ready for the next day. He had great hopes of that. He lifted the material of the nightshirt back over his cock and got into bed.
Two o'clock in the morning Malcolm awoke as he had planned and tiptoed out and to the other bedroom. There they were, the two snuggled together under the covers. Malcolm would like to have lifted the covers, inspected to see if copulation had occurred, felt between Sylvie's legs; peeled back Elvin's soft cock and felt for stickiness; perhaps even sucked upon it; the feel of a soft penis between his lips, he had not felt that for many a year.
Between the folds of his robe his hard cock peeked out.
It was all very much Sylvie's idea of Father Christmas. It was very much Malcolm's idea of Father Christmas. He reached down, grasped, and slid the smooth skin. Father Christmas wanking as he stood in the young people's bedroom. Of course, he had thought of the idea before. Throwing fairy dust or something over sleeping people and engaging with them as they slept. He had certainly had thoughts of some of the young mothers at the department store when they had brought their youngsters to sit on Father Christmas' knee. Had thought of turning up at their house and slipping down the chimney with his fairy dust. Of course, to leave presents in the little one's stockings or pillowcases, but most definitely also to leave something else with the young mothers! Oh yes! Sprinkling that 'fairy dust' to keep the young mother and probably young father asleep whilst Malcolm took his pleasure. Him silently creeping into their room, a peak around the door and then a sprinkling of fairy dust.
A sprinkling of fairy dust before revealing his cock. It would not, of course, be white bearded Malcolm dressed in that modern 'Santa' suit of red trousers and short red mock-fur lined jacket but in the long traditional red coat, just as at the department store. And, of course, nothing else underneath but his long black boots. Malcolm liked that idea. The idea of exposing himself in the young couple's bedroom, slipping his long red coat from his shoulders like a woman might let slip a negligee and standing there stark naked but for black knee length boots. Standing with his large cock rigid beneath, well, his somewhat portly stomach. Malcolm's physique was not that of a young man. It was very much Father Christmas, all rotund with large belly and a considerable amount of snowy white hair, but not really like the popular conception of the fairy tale of a genial old gentleman scattering presents, not with that good, upright, and rather large cock rearing as he pulled back bedclothes from the sleeping couple.
Sleeping soundly with the fairy dust. What delights might he see, and feel? How might he like to find them? Like dark Sylvie and rather small Elvin or quite different. A tall, statuesque blond woman, perhaps naked or with nightdress rucked up revealing an exciting triangle of blond curls, an equally tall, perhaps taller, strongly built man with a penis even larger than his own. How good to find it erect, massive and chunky, perhaps even with the woman's hand upon it in sleep. Wonderful to find as he parted the young mother's legs to find her blond-hair strewn sex almost awash with earlier deposited semen.
The man virile enough to be aroused in dreams even after a fuck not an hour or two before. What fun Malcolm would have. What fun would Father Christmas have with the young couple's fairy dust sleeping bodies. His penis would touch, how it would touch the young mother, how it would rub. How he would bury his face in her blond curls and lap liquid femininity with an added male spice.
T the young father's generative organs. Clearly potent and virile. And finally, of course, mix his own white curls with her blond curls, intimately and wetly mixing before insemination.
A so delicious emptying of his balls into the young mother, swollen cock on fire and his nipples tingling.
There was wetness at the end of his erection, almost dripping on the carpet as Malcom stood over Sylvie and Elvin and wanking to his thoughts.
A near ejaculation, Father Christmas 'on the edge.' But Malcolm had not come into Sylvie and Elvin's room to scatter fairy dust and play. Whilst good to stand there wanking, as he did so often to the sight of them, but never in their bedroom with them before, he was really there in his traditional role. He was leaving presents, real presents at the end of their bed. They would have his cum most likely in the morning but for now two filled stockings needed placing on the end of their bed, long socks filled with all sorts of little presents he had bought more as fun than anything else. Heavily traditional with sugar mice, tangerines, walnuts, chocolate in the shape of, Father Christmas, and more modern useful things like pens, a dressmaker's rule, a penknife and, jolly winter socks.
Stockings deposited but no other deposit made, a still tumescent Father Christmas, substantial penis poking out through his robe, crept from the bedroom.
Morning came and Malcolm rose and looked out of his bedroom window. It had snowed heavily in the night, the landscape a winter wonderland. A white Christmas indeed, there on the moors, an achingly pretty but cold picture postcard scene. He dressed and went downstairs to relight the fire and prepare breakfast.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, mug of tea steaming in front of him when his guests appeared down the stairs. Excitement as if they were little kids, Christmas Day, the snow outside and the fun of what they had found in their stockings. Arms around Malcolm and a big hug and kiss from Sylvie, her soft body against him. Malcolm got to work cooking a hearty breakfast.
"You didn't come into our bedroom in costume, did you Malcolm?"
"Ho, ho, ho; of course I did."
"And we didn't wake!"
"Sound asleep, tucked up like good little elves."
It was Sylvie who suggested it later after breakfast, but had it not been her who had talked of him wearing his red coat at the cottage. He had said they should go for a walk and the idea had been taken up with enthusiasm.
"Can we, Malcolm, can we go out with you in your coat and boots? We could dress too."
"I don't think it really is the day for wandering around in the all-together!"
He might have thought that but, But Sylvie meant she dressing up too in her elf costume.
And so Malcolm came down the stairs a little later dressed as if for work, at the department store. He was, though, wearing rather more under the great faux fur trimmed robe. Vest, shirt, woolen pullover, thick socks inside his black boots. Thick thigh length woolen socks in fact. But he was taking a little bit of a risk with his rather male equipment. No underpants, no trousers. In that he was just like being at the department store. He was swinging free. After all he did not know if an elf might slip a hand under his coat at some point, did he?
Malcolm stepped outside. The snow had certainly fallen in the night, his car a large snow-covered blob, the track he had driven up hidden under a carpet of snow. Snow everywhere, virgin snow with just bird claw prints and the odd animal track to be seen. It seemed almost wrong to step further and make footprints. Which route to take? He knew the landscape even under snow. Knew where to walk.
Behind him his visitors came out into the morning. Sylvie in her green pinafore corduroy dress but rather more than her usual red shirt underneath. She was padded up a bit by at least one more shirt and a jumper. Brown walking boots on her feet, scarf around her neck and her hair back into pigtails under her bright red woolly bobble hat. Sylvie the elf out in the snow. But she was not alone. Another elf with her. It was all rather pleasing; certainly, to a rather randy old gentleman like Malcom. Long red socks. Elvin in Sylvie's spare but shorter green corduroy dress. And it did not look like he was in drag. It appearing simply as a tunic. A red shirt with, again plenty beneath. On his feet shiny black Wellington boots seemingly polished, the straps done up tightly clasping his legs and no doubt containing at least two pairs of socks. And what covered his knees and thighs. Were those really tights, thick green tights? A red bobble hat, a scarf and, as with all of them, gloves completed the outfit.
Father Christmas and two attendant elves setting out, unfortunately without sleigh. Now wouldn't that have been fun. A horse drawn sleigh rather than reindeer drawn. Not a lot of reindeers in Yorkshire!
A few flakes fell as they set off on their walk but on the horizon a crack of light suggesting the sun was going to break through. Sun on snow, perhaps even blue sky, and certainly it was remarkably still as they trudged along often boot deep in snow. In a hedgerow they spotted a robin jumping about even joining them for quite a way, landing on the snow and looking at them. Was it hopeful they might start digging and unearth 'delightful' titbits for it? There was the occasional wren too, out and about searching for food. Maybe in the night it had huddled together with other wrens, somewhere sheltered, the birds perhaps a dozen at a time rotating around each other to benefit from their shared warmth.
It was not that cold, particularly as the party was moving, stomping along through the snow. They met no one, of course. But wouldn't someone have been just a little surprised at the appearance of the party. They were not exactly blending into the landscape. Not with Malcolm's great red coat. Might they have been seen from far off? What a sight. Father Christmas and his elves on the fells in the snow and the sun. Three quarters of the way around the route they came down into a little dell. It felt warmer there, perhaps the sun's rays a little trapped.
It was Sylvie who started it. A snowball fight. Perhaps not a normal Christmas card scene with Father Christmas and two elves throwing snowballs at each other. Energetic and fun. Warming even. Sylvie and Elvin scampering around in their dress and tunic. All at once, Sylvie with flushed face and sparkling eyes exclaimed,
"I've never been fucked out in the snow."
An invitation if ever there was one and again, not the likely scene on a Christmas card. Elvin looked at Malcolm as if seeking permission, permission to fuck his girlfriend!
"I know what you elves are like. Go on, get to it you two."
Malcolm chuckled, rather like Father Christmas really. Already his cock, his thick rubbery cock that had been swinging from thigh to thigh in the warmth under his great coat was stiffening, readying itself in possible anticipation.
"Oh no, Father Christmas, you too. You must join in. Two cocks are better than one. Show Elvin what you keep in your sack."
'Join in', indeed! Join with Sylvie, join their two bodies in that wonderfully carnal way. Elvin to join first and then Malcolm.
The 'sack' Sylvie was referring to was not the big red sack of presents Father Christmas slung over his shoulder, 'Ho, ho, ho', but the fleshy sack that swung between his thighs. And he was hoping to deliver a lot of 'presents' from that to Sylvie and perhaps Elvin over the visit to the cottage.
The two elves in green and red were standing there looking as Malcolm undid his great black belt, before drawing the leaves of his great faux fur trimmed robe apart revealing himself. It would have been more impressive had he not had a woolen pullover and shirt on, but even so his rotund stomach projected and what projected the more was his erect penis. Thick and strongly upright, and beneath his hanging scrotum with his balls so very obvious.
"Oh Sylvie, I see what you mean."
Elvin open mouthed at the sight.
For Malcolm it was just wonderful to be seen like that. Not just Sylvie looking on, but Elvin as well.
"Who's going to raise my dress? Father Christmas?"
With cock poking out of his robe, poking out in the bright sunlight, Malcolm came up to the turning Sylvie, her gloved hands reaching out to a wall as she bent forward arching her back and sticking out her ass. Such a pleasure, and would be to any man, to reach and lift Sylvie's green corduroy dress up and over, so the tops of her woolen long socks were revealed just above her knee, exposing naked thighs and then a wonderfully pink and rounded ass unclad in any sort of knickers whatsoever. Not thick woolen knickers or long frilly under drawers, just naked ass, somewhat spread thighs and an uninterrupted route to her sex and feminine entrance. How warm, hot even, it would be inside.
"After you, young elf,"
said Malcolm to Elvin. The young man was still looking at his cock. Seemingly rather mesmerized by it. Perhaps by the sudden appearance of the erect organ, perhaps by its size.
"Get your cock out?"
Malcolm encouraged Elvin.
Elvin reached and lifted his own tunic, up around his waist revealing through the green colored tights his own erection, not large but pushing against the nylon, its shape so clear. It was something Malcolm had seen before but at a distance and through binoculars. A glance up at Malcolm's jolly and smiling face, his cheeks reddened by the walk and the cold. Undoubtedly with red hood and snow-white beard Malcolm looked so like the benevolent, merry, jovial face of the children's fantasy story of Father Christmas. Elvin pulled his tights down, releasing his erect penis from its confinement.
Clearly a little over-awed by Malcolm's size; Elvin said; "It's not much,."
"Come on," called Sylvie, she after all had her whole lower region out in the snow.
"It looks just the job, Elvin. Well up to the task. Like a nice fat cigar. I'd like to draw on that! Go on, fuck the girl!" Malcolm encouraged the young fella.
And Elvin did. Plenty of practice after all. Up behind her ass, dipping and clearly slipping in. His thighs and hips up against her, flesh to flesh and now keeping Sylvie warm. Hanging dress to the front, warm lad behind.
Indeed, it would now be Elvin feeling the cold not Sylvie, his ass rather exposed. A pleasing thought.
Good to watch the copulation. Malcolm naturally reached for his cock to stroke and then remembered his hand was gloved and a bit snow covered from the snowballing. Best perhaps to simply await his turn, allow just Sylvie's silky smoothness, hot and wet, to do the caressing, not his cold gloved hand.
Elvin pulled back. Had he come? Malcolm did not think so and certainly whilst Elvin's upright cock looked very wet it did not seem to have that male creaminess upon it that would surely have come. The young man looked a bit uncertain,
"Mr Butteridge, Malcolm, would you like to, would you like to fuck Sylvie?"
"If, if I may?"
"Um, yes."
Of course, Elvin had not seen Malcolm do that before. Had heard from Sylvie all about it, but not seen. He had not seen the, frankly, old man stick his large cock in the girl.
"It's so, just what you might imagine Father Christmas, I mean, your white, snow-white curls!"
Did anyone really imagine that? Did anyone imagine what the old gentleman with the merry smile and rosy cheeks had under his coat? Did anyone imagine the purple fringed helmet and thick shaft sticking out between the leaves of the great red coat?
To be continued.
Based on a post by Drmaxc for Literotica.