HTML Are YOU on The Naughty List? ~ Merry Christmas! December 2015 ~ ***FREE*** Giveaway by Muffy Wilson
Are YOU on The Naughty List?
The Naughty List
Christmas Anthology featuring Guest Nina Pierce
Excerpt from A Marine Corps Christmas Package by Muffy Wilson:
She walked into the lounge and looked exactly the way she felt: wet, mean and thirsty for a dirty martini. It was pouring rain outside, so she was soaked. Her long auburn locks were wet and plastered to her head but accentuated the beauty of her hazel eyes. Holiday traffic was a bitch and her boss just made a pass at her; she was pissed at him, and all men, at present. And she was thirsty because of both. On impulse, she pulled into the parking lot and parked. She opened the door to Luke’s Lounge and it was dark as night inside. Anya stood in the doorway, dripping wet, as her clothes hugged the curves of her body. The door closed while her vision adjusted. There were no seats at the bar open, which pissed her off some more. She walked over to the widest open spot in the crowd and leaned over the bar to order a drink from the bartender. A Marine, seated at the bar, stood up to offer her his stool. She was impressed by his kindness and chivalry. He waved at the bartender and let Anya settle in while the bartender took her order.
“Merry Christmas. It’s ‘Ho-Ho-Ho-Happy Hour’: two for one,” he replied.
“Even better,” she told him. “Bring ‘em on and keep ‘em coming until I ask you to stop.”
Anya turned to the Marine and said, “Thank you for the stool. After tonight, I thought chivalry was dead,” while she fished for her wallet in her briefcase.
When the bartender brought her drinks, she put out a twenty-dollar bill and nodded at him. She closed her eyes and took her first sip, feeling the warmth of the drink fire on all fours through her body, inch by inch. She savored that very first sip luxuriously. It was like a lover’s hands sliding down her body, igniting every inch as they felt their way to her toes, leaving her in their molten path eager and hot for more.
She looked sublime, wet but sublime dressed in her Brooks Brother’s suit, silk blouse and matching red silk undies. She loved “dressing for success” because she always felt superior to all the other women and most of the men. It was like professional armor. Aware that people looked at her as if they wanted her made her feel better and gave her an intellectual, emotional edge. As she reveled in her first sip, she turned to the Marine.
“I’m sorry, I forgot my own manners. May I buy you a drink, Marine?”
He looked her full in the face, blushed slightly and said, “Dennis Johnson. My friends call me Dj. Yes, thank you. I am enjoying the smooth pleasures of Southern Comfort Manhattans.”
Anya waved to the bartender to get Dj another drink and they both laughed. She noted that he was yummy good looking in his uniform. She was a sucker for a hunk in uniform, going weak in the knees and wet whenever she met a one that appealed to her; and he did. Immediately, Anya felt conspicuous about her appearance. She was soaked to the bone and her hair was still dripping wet. And…she was getting wet in her hot spot, just watching him finger his cigar. She downed one of her drinks, excused herself and exited to the ladies' room. She immediately removed her wet trench coat and salvaged what she could of her clothes, then went into one of the stalls. She could feel her mounting passion. It could have been the result of a culmination of things, but it was there nonetheless. Her boss made a pass at her; the “Silver Fox” had rubbed her leg along her inside thigh when she asked for a transfer. She exploded with anger, but had to control herself. She did not get to where she was by allowing impulse to guide her career. Anya’s Father had a heart attack and she wanted to be closer to him, particularly during the Holidays. She had thought it out and decided that a move to the up and coming Atlanta office would be the best place for her career to flourish and she could spend more quality time with her Dad. She attended a regional meeting with her boss. After the meeting ended, she took him to the airport where she asked for the transfer as she explained the reason for the request.
“All the more reason to stay here: he’s not going to live forever,” the bastard palmed her inside thigh and responded. She was furious but composed. Anya rose, shook his hand and excused herself because of the late hour and her long drive home in the rain home instead of spitting on him as she wanted.
That passion welled up again as she thought of DJ at the bar. Passion was passion no matter the genesis. It was a fiery feeling that needed expression and release. In the stall, Anya raised her skirt. She moved her red thong out to the side as she searched for her pussy, now wet and eager. She knew this would not take long; so much had happened to her already tonight that was charged with emotion. Her head relaxed against the wall and she began to finger herself rapidly as she thought about DJ holding his cigar and the size of his hands. God, but he was handsome, tall and virile.
She wondered about his cock. Was he circumcised or did he have a turtleneck sweater? She smiled and released a slight giggle. Was he long, thin, short, thick, wide and flat, bushy or trimmed? How did he smell: like a warm musky forest after a light rain or like boot leather? Did he like briefs or boxers? Oh, God, maybe a thong…Was she going to be able to get her hand in his pants tonight? Oh God, oh God, she could feel the earlier anger redirecting energy to her clit as she became more and more aroused at the thought of DJ in his Marine Corps uniform. She was adept at fingering herself and she wasted no energy now. She began to moan and move with the rhythm of her hand and fingers. She released her neck muscles and her head rolled to her shoulder, then to the other shoulder. She could feel it all over now, everywhere. She was getting more wet with each stroke. Damn, she wished she had her finger vibrator, but she only carried it when she travelled.
She would have to rethink that strategy another time.
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Author Bio and Links:
Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.
Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.
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