Latest sex stories about A Christmas Carol – added for who looking to read new experience of teenager narrative A Christmas Carol – story.
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#Cheating #Incest #Mature #Teen
By Kiarra
It was the night before Christmas, and it was my turn to play host for my sister and her family, who traveled down from Dayton to celebrate the holiday. I’m 42 years old, a confirmed bachelor, and although I wouldn’t go as far as to call myself a Scrooge, I admit that I have spent my adult life pretty much married to my work. So, without a wife and children, holidays like Christmas don’t have much meaning for me, except that they provide an opportunity to relax a little. It had been a really nice evening. We prepared and ate a fine meal, had a few drinks, told some stories, then sat around the tree to exchange gifts. It was fun to watch the two kids, 14-year-old Jamie and 14-year-old Carol, barely able to contain their excitement. I had actually been infected with a little of the holiday spirit and had put some thought into the gifts I purchased for them. I found Jamie a remote control big-wheel truck. With Carol, I took the advice of one of the business partners and picked up a large soft doll called “My Best Friend”. The doll was the rage gift of the season for young girls and it had taken a bit of effort to find one. It was about three feet tall, and was sort of like a rag doll but much more life-like. When you buy the doll, it comes wearing a long flannel nightie with buttons all the way down the front. There are several colors to choose from and the package includes a matching nightie for a young girl. It was Christmas, so I chose a doll with a green and red nightie with wreaths, candy-canes, and bells all over it.
My niece Carol squealed with delight when she opened the gift, and after thanking me enthusiastically, she ran from the room with the doll and the nightie wrapped in her arms. She was back in two minutes carrying her doll and wearing her new matching nightie. I really like Carol. She is a beautiful girl, smart, charming, honest, very sensitive, with a disarming sense of humor. I should also mention that she is an absolutely stunning little beauty, with shoulder-length dark blonde hair, lovely blue-green eyes, and the body of an un-opened rose, tall, slim, girlish curves, full of potential but not quite ready to blossom. I am a confirmed admirer of blossoming young girls, and my niece Carol is one of the loveliest I have ever seen. By midnight, everyone else had wandered off to bed and I was left sitting quietly by myself on the couch, basking in the warmth of the evening and the soft light from the Christmas tree.
It was pretty nice moment and I wasn’t quite ready to hit the hay so I sat back and lit up a joint. The room was quiet, the mood so peaceful. After I’d consumed the herbs, I lay my head back, closed my eyes, and let my mind wander. Within a few moments, I found myself remembering the look in Carol’s eyes as she opened my gift, remembering the look of her slim girlish frame hidden under the soft flannel of her new nightie. Fuck she looked good. For some reason also I remembered a conversation I had with my sister, Carol’s mom, a month or so earlier. Meagan said her 14-year-old daughter was growing up far too quickly, that she actually thought the girl was masturbating already. In my dreamy, smoke induced state, I imagined myself with a ringside seat for that intimate little piece of theatre and felt my cock thickening up inside my briefs under my housecoat. I even flirted momentarily with the idea of sneaking down the hall to peek into the main floor guest room in the hope that I might catch her in the act. But I knew that was not an option.
As much as I loved to look at young girls and engage in fantasy, I was certainly not prepared to launch an attempt to turn those fantasies into reality with my 14-year-old niece. I smiled to myself and drifted into a smoke-filled dream. I don’t know how much later it was. It might have been only half a minute or a minute, but it seemed like an hour. It felt like I was awakening from a light sleep. I was still on the couch, sitting in the soft glow of light from the Christmas tree. Then came the soft tinkling of tiny bells, followed by a light rhythmic metallic clanking noise down below, as if some person were clinking chains together, creating a strange repetitive sound that seemed oddly musical. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and opened them.
The strange sounds had stopped. “Oh shit,” I said to myself. “You’re losing it boy.” I lay my head back once more, and almost as soon as I closed my eyes, the sounds came again, difficult to place, like they weren’t really coming from anywhere but were everywhere at once. I let it go on, growing louder, a warm friendly, soothing, rhythmic sound, building around me. I remember thinking that I was probably experiencing a bit of an audio hallucination, like if you think you hear something, and you think hard enough, you will probably hear it, but the sounds are actually being created in your mind, to fill the empty space generated by your intense listening. But when the rhythm guitar joined in, filling out the percussive beat with a tight rattling strum, I sat up and opened my eyes again, as if seeking visual clues that might give me a better sense of the source of the strange musical sounds. There was an odd wispy softness in the room and as I looked over at the doorway, I saw a ghostly image standing there. “I know him,” I found myself thinking.
Then I was filled with an image of strange, inexplicable, dread…locks? It was Marley’s ghost. “Bob?” I asked incredulously. “Is that you?” “Ya man, what do you think?” the ghost answered in his island drawl. “Of course it’s me.” The same face; the very same. Marley in his dreadlocks, usual vest and t-shirt, jeans and boots, the tassels and beads on his vest bristling. He walked into the room, sat down beside me on the couch, reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a huge reefer, lifted it to his mouth and sparked it up. “Here man,” he said, handing me the joint after taking a big draw himself. I smiled. I love dreams, but I seldom try to decipher them, or parse them, or interpret them, and I never fight them. I simply welcome them as friendly visitors, and cherish the best of them. And this was turning out to be a masterpiece, sitting in my living room, sharing a number with Bob Marley.
We smoked together in silence, both of us exhaling big round smoke rings that drifted around the room turning red, orange, green and blue in the soft light of the Christmas tree. Bob snuffed the roach in the ashtray. “Ah man, this is nice,” the ghost said to me. “You got a nice thing here man. But I got to go.” I was dazed and stoned, barely able to focus as I watched Bob walk to the doorway and turn back to face me. “You have a nice Christmas,” he said. “And remember, don’t worry, bought a thing, cause every little thing, gonna be alright.” Weird man, very strange. I sat on my couch wearing a silly grin, gleaning deep amusement from the odd dream state I found myself in. Marley’s ghost was gone, and with him, his music. My eyes drifted, flirting lightly over the Christmas tree, letting myself be visually entertained by the sparkling colors. There at the bottom of the tree, leaning up against a large box, looking up at me with its big round eyes, was Carol’s new doll, in its red and green flannel nightie.
I smiled, thinking of the girl, and leaned forward to pull the doll up into my lap, sitting it straddled across my thighs, facing me. I found myself drifting again, slipping back into some place, perhaps it was sleep. It was odd because there were things about it that felt very real, and things about it that were definitely dream-like. I couldn’t tell if I was half awake, or half asleep, or the other way around, as if that might be a better way to describe the strange place I was in, sitting on my couch with a big doll in my lap. Then things slowly faded to black. My next memory is of an odd feeling of movement between my fingers. I was holding the doll’s wrists and I remember thinking “why would there be movement there?” “Uncle John,” a soft voice whispered out at me from the smoky grey backdrop of my dream.
“Are you awake?” My eyelids creaked slowly open and I found myself looking into the soft warm eyes of my niece. She was straddling my thighs on the couch, facing me with her wrists in my hands. She smiled. “I just wanted to say thank you for the gift,” Carol whispered to me. “It’s just what I wanted. My mom said I couldn’t have one because it was too expensive.” I smiled my silly grin, amused once more that my dream was still working on me, giving me the physical feeling my niece’s young juicy body leaning forward to snuggle up against mine. “I really mean it,” she said softly. “Thank you.” Man this was too real. How can you dream the soft scent of a sweet teenage girl’s hair, and the musical sound of her young voice? “How come you’re not married Uncle John?” she asked me softly, then continued, as if her young mind lacked the patience required to rest long enough to hear an answer. “Once dad said, maybe it’s because you’re gay.” I actually shook my head trying to clear it.
My dream was turning on me, confusing me, teasing me with reality. How can you smoke a joint with a ghost? How can you have a conversation with a dream? “But I know you’re not gay,” she whispered, with obvious youthful conviction. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes.” This was too much. I began to believe it. My hands lifted and reached around, circling the girl in my lap, coming to rest on her back, hugging her lightly. “Carol…I don’t think,” I started to mutter. “It’s ok,” she said reassuringly, pressing her body harder up against mine. “I don’t mind.” “Oh man Marley,” I grinned to myself, closing my eyes once more. “You cultivate some kick-ass weed.” I think you get the picture. I was actually allowing myself to believe I could blame the deceiving reality of my dream on the potency of some smoke offered by a ghost. My eyes closed and I drifted back into the enveloping grayness. Like I said earlier. I don’t fight my dreams. I let them come. And, after what could have been a lifetime or a moment, this dream came for me with a vengeance.
It looked for me in the smoke-filled haze, found me and pulled me in, tweaking the parts of me that could sense, could feel, could hear, could see, could smell, while sedating the parts that could test my senses and tell the difference between what was real and what might be imagined. As my dream pulled me closer, wrapping me in its embrace, the first thing I sensed was a rhythmic airy sound that quickly became breath, long deep breathing sounds close to my ear, colored with soft murmurs. Next I felt soft warm skin pressing, rubbing up against my bare chest, and arms inside my housecoat, hands tucked up under my arms, between my shoulders and the back of the couch, holding me close. Then came the sweet scent of youth. I breathed deep through my nose, sampling it. It was a magical dream indeed. I let my body feel the extent of it, sensing my wide-open housecoat, the warm body pressed up against me.
With great effort, I shook the embraces of those sensations and inched my eyes open trying to find something to focus on. I was looking through her hair, and in there somewhere, I saw the unmistakable red and green flannel of an unbuttoned and wide-open nightie. Strangely, the most intense sensation came to me last, the dull ache and blood-thick feel of my cock, stiff and hard, laying straight up over my belly, still trapped in but fighting hard to escape from my briefs. And there was something else…I let myself feel it, interpret it, sense it. The sensation started down low, near the base of my cock, then traveled slowly up its length, rubbing over the hard shaft, as if coaxing more blood into its stiffness. My mind worked to decipher the sensations, all of them, to put them together, to make sense of the dream.
Finally the smoke cleared and I came to understand that my niece Carol had opened my house coat and her nightie, that she had her budding chest pressed up against me, that she was straddling my lap, with nothing but her white panties and my briefs between us, that she was rubbing the soft warm lips of her juicy vagina up and down the hard shaft of my big cock. I moaned, my dazed mind fighting to clear, to find a piece of what I knew had to be reality, something to latch on to, something that made sense. My hands lifted off the couch, coming up almost defensively, intending to prove that it was a doll in my lap and not a little girl, but finding instead the warm soft skin of my niece’s naked thighs. She jumped a little at the contact and pressed her body down a little harder on mine. I moaned, feeling the pressure of her wet vagina on the base of my hard cock. The extra pressure pushed the head of my cock right out from under the waistband of my briefs. Her body was tense, her chest rising and falling with deep anxious breaths.
“Uncle John,” she whispered nervously. “Are you awake?” “Carol?” I responded, still unsure of myself, of where I was, of who I was with. “Carol, what are doing?” “I thought you would like it,” she whispered back. “I thought it could be like my Christmas present to you.” I struggled there on my couch, trying to find an answer, trying to find a path that might lead me to a place that was not quite so strange, to a sensation that did not lead me so much into temptation. Almost as if with a will of their own, my hands moved, my fingers slipping up the sides of my niece’s naked thighs, up behind the open folds of her flannel nightie, to bump into the elastic leg bands of her little panties, and further, around to gently cup and tenderly squeeze the soft cheeks of her cute little ass.
Oh, what a pleasure, to hold that beautiful little ass in my hands, to touch it, to feel its soft curves under my fingers. I moaned, finding it incredibly difficult to resist, and lifted my hips in a gentle pumping motion, rubbing the shaft of my cock over the material of her panties, feeling the soft hairless folds of her little vagina underneath. “Mmnn,” Carol murmured softly. “I knew you would like doing this with me.” An odd accented voice whispered a strangely familiar observation to me through the clouds of my confusion…”Resistance is futile.” I gave in, to my desires, to my dreams, and to niece Carol, nuzzling her neck, running my lips up her skin to her ear, whispering softly to her. “Do you know what you’re doing Carol?” I asked her gently. “I know about sex,” she replied softly, defensively. “Oh do you?” I whispered back, testing her, reaching around to pull one of her hands out from inside my housecoat, pulling it down to lay her fingers on the head of my hard cock where it was sticking out from under my briefs.
I heard a soft intake of breath as I left her fingers there, and reached to pull my briefs right down off the entire shaft. She whimpered softly as I reached for her fingers once more, wrapped them around my cock, and then pulled them up and down slowly, pumping the shaft, letting her feel the thickness of it, the length of it, the hardness of it. Then, as she continued to tentatively pump my cock on her own, I turned my hand and touched her for the first time, bringing my fingers up onto the soft material of her panties, feeling the dampness there, feeling the soft lips and the pink slit of her vagina underneath. She gasped and squeezed my cock as I rubbed her wet cunt. “Do you like that baby?” I whispered to her. “Hmmn?” “Oh Uncle,” she gasped, moving her hips in time with the tender rubbing of my fingers between her thighs, giving me my answer. I needed my niece’s panties out of the way. I needed desperately to touch her.
Continuing to rub her with the fingers of one hand, I reached around with the other and pulled her hand out from inside my housecoat, bringing it down behind her, finding the leg band of her panties, pushing her fingertips underneath it, pulling the material right over to the side, baring the cheeks of her little ass under her nightie. Leaving her hand in place in back, I reached around in front, unwrapping her fingers from around my cock, tucking them under the leg band of her panties near her mound, pulling down and over, hearing her gasp as the warm damp material slipped out from under my fingers leaving them laying on, touching, feeling, and gently caressing the naked lips of her wet cunt. “Mmnngh, mmnn,” she murmured softly, holding her panties out of the way with two hands, letting her uncle finger her bare naked vagina. With my free hand I reached down to find my cock. It was thick and hard, raging stiff, aching to work its way into a warm wet cocoon.
I pumped it slowly, welcoming the promise of release those movements generated. As I slowly jerked my cock, the big middle finger of my other hand slipped between the lips of my niece’s vagina, near the top, finding the little nub of her clit, rubbing it for her, feeling her body jerk and tremble in response, hearing her sharp gasps and soft whimpers. Working lower, my finger slipped further down along her slit, finding the little circle of her hole, moving around it, tracing it’s outline, then pressing into the centre, seeking depth, and finding it. It was with significant surprise that I found myself with my middle finger slipping up to the first knuckle into my niece’s delicious vagina, with very little resistance, and nothing to suggest that going further was going to be any more difficult. I pressed, pushing a nervous gasp from her, as my finger moved another half an inch up inside her little cunt.
If Carol had indeed been born, as girls almost invariably are, with a hymen, it was no longer in place. I thought of my sister’s suspicions that Carol was already masturbating, and tried to imagine what it might have been like to watch her take her own cherry, as I was sure she must have. I felt her body moving with me as I gently pumped my finger inside her, letting her feel it, hearing her fevered breath, her murmured whimpers. You know I think I half believed I was dreaming. No that is not quite accurate. In fact, I honestly couldn’t tell. It felt so real, but the whole thing was clouded in a dream-like shroud that both confused me and comforted me. But I was conscious enough to find some encouragement and the audacity to continue, in the logic that there could be nothing wrong with having sex with a child, inside a dream. I pulled my finger out of her and slipped it once more up to the little nub of her clit, teasing it as I lifted her gently, coaxing her to rise further up onto her knees so I could reposition my big cock and rub the thick head over the lips of her little vagina, working it between them, finding her tight hole, touching it.
“Mmnn, mmnn,” she whimpered softly, expressing her nervousness, and her arousal. Holding my cock in place with the head resting at the doorway to my niece’s tight puffy cunt, I reached around to cup one of the soft cheeks of her lovely ass. I don’t know if I would have had the nerve to actually attempt it. Probably not, I mean she was a girl, and as aroused as I was, she was still my niece, my sister’s daughter. I doubt that I would have been capable of actually opening her up, pushing my cock into her. But in a brief moment of time, all of that became academic, as my niece pushed herself down onto me, gasping, willing her little vagina to open up and accept the swollen head of my big cock.
Every physical sensation I have felt in my life, before and after that moment, pales in comparison with the incredible feeling of having my niece straddling my lap, holding her panties aside with both hands, gasping with determination, pushing herself down on the head of my big cock, stretching herself, trying to work it up inside her. She made several attempts, pressing down, trying to open herself up, relaxing to take a couple of breaths, then trying again. Finally, something gave way, and the head of my cock slipped up inside her. I don’t know if you can imagine the intensity of that sensation, of feeling a girl’s tight vagina squeezing the head of your cock in a warm, wet embrace, mating with it. It was incredible. “Ooh, awh, awh, ohhhh,” my young niece gasped and whimpered, trying to adjust to the sensation of having the head of a man’s big cock inside her for the first time in her life.
It was clearly something she wanted, and I had sincere concerns that I might actually hurt her if I moved too quickly, so I let her control her own movements. In a few moments, the immediate shock of having me inside her must have abated a little because she began to move again, pressing down, pushing me deeper, gasping with each tiny increase in the depth of penetration, until she had my cock half-buried inside her. “Oh, ohhh,” she murmured. “Uncle John, it’s so big.” She seemed to find the depth she wanted and began a very tentative motion pulling up a little, then pushing back down, working within a range of only an inch or so, slowly, gently, tenderly fucking my cock. What a beauty, what a doll, what an incredible experience, what a dream. I could feel an orgasm building in her.
She had pulled away from my embrace, and was kneeling tall, holding her panties to the side, with her head leaning back, pushing slowly up and down on my cock, milking it lovingly with her tight little cunt. I couldn’t resist. Giving her naked ass a gentle squeeze I let one big finger slip between her cheeks, down into that intimate little valley, pressing in, seeking and finding the tight little ring of her asshole. Then feeling her respond, trembling nervously at this new and very intimate physical contact in that very private place, I pressed at the centre of her hole, making her gasp. I was gentle, careful not to rush it, but I was also determined, and it was with immense pleasure that I heard my 9-year-old niece voice a tiny squeal of surprise as her tight little asshole opened up and welcomed my big finger. She was up high on her knees as my finger entered her. “Oh, oh, Uncle, what are you doing to me?” she gasped as my big finger pushed its way up inside her ass. “It’s ok honey,” I whispered, reassuring her. “Relax, take it.” “Oh, oh,” she responded, finally settling down, calming.
With my finger buried to the first knuckle in my niece’s tight ass, with the head of my cock wrapped in the tight embrace of her little cunt, I rested and left it up to her. She didn’t disappoint me. After waiting a moment to collect herself, Carol pressed down once more, pushing down on my cock and my finger, impaling herself, front and back, and continued to fuck. I watched her passion build. She came first, her head way back, the naked skin on her flat chest glowing softly in the colored lights of the Christmas tree, her breath coming in sharp, anguished gasps, her little asshole squeezing my finger, her tight little cunt muscles convulsing, sucking my cock for me. Just as it finished, as her body began to collapse and fall into my arms, my cock exploded, pumping hot cum up her inside her.
She responded immediately, her eyes opening wide, looking for mine, questioning, seeking an understanding of the strange new sensation of having her uncle’s big cock pulsing inside her, pumping hot cum up her little cunt. When it was done we both collapsed. The last thing I remember was the gentle whisper of her beautiful little voice in my ear. “Merry Christmas Uncle,” she said softly. I awoke at about five am, alone, with a nagging ache deep inside me, laying on my side on the couch, the room bathed in the soft colored light of the Christmas tree. There at the bottom of the tree, leaning up against a large box, looking up at me with its big round eyes, was Carol’s new doll, in its red and green flannel nightie. And I swear I saw it smile.
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By Kiarra
#Cheating #Incest #Mature #Teen
