What A Christmas, Carol - Sex Stories

What A Christmas, Carol

... “Not really. But it’s been made at the end of the nineteenth century.” She felt her cheeks grow hot, watching Edgar admire the lewd ebony statue. “Mom always argued that it was indecent, but Dad insisted on having it out in the open. I never got around to stowing it away.” “And I’m glad.” Edgar’s voice was nothing more than a deep whisper. “She’s beautiful.” He ran a finger down the horned, wooden goddess, over her full, naked breasts and between her lewdly splayed legs. As her neighbor’s finger caressed the statue in such a loving, almost sexual way, Carol became aware of her own state of being under-dressed. “I… I should really put something on. I haven’t unpacked much. I’ll be just a minute.” The tightening of June’s fingers around her shoulder stopped her. “You don’t need to hurry.” She winked. “If there are two things that can keep my Edgar happy and occupied, it’s Egyptian history and naked women.” Carol’s blush intensified, and she quickly headed to her bedroom. * * * * “...and this will be your room.” “It’s lovely.” It was, really. Unlike the rest of the Preston’s cabin, which was all sheepskins and wood, the small room towards the back had two red-bricked walls and a four-poster bed with intricate ornaments and airy, transparent veils. “It’s like a princess’ quarters in a castle.” June chuckled. “That might be because Edgar modelled it for his princess.” “You have a daughter?” “Yes, her name’s Amy. She has to be about your age. It’s a pity you never met. She’s ...

... twenty-three.” Carol bit her lip while she stowed away her clothes in the dark wooden wardrobe, wondering if she should ask the question. But she was curious now. “She’s not coming here for Christmas?” “Not this year. She lives with her husband in Australia. They visit us over the holidays every other year though.” * * * * They had spent the night in front of the fireplace, wrapped in thick woolen blankets, eating home-made cookies, sipping hot punch and sharing stories of past times at the cabins. Whenever June and Edgar had shared a particularly funny moment, they had sent each other loving smiles and winks, and the small touches that accompanied those always sent small stabs through Carol’s heart. But the laughter over -- in hindsight -- hilarious mishaps had more than weighed up these reminders of her loneliness, and when Carol had made her tipsy way to bed, she had felt relaxed for what had felt like the first time in ages. She awoke to a soft bumping sound and had to blink a few times to realize where she was. The soft, bluish moonlight reflected on the snow and tinged the room in a mysterious glow. Something creaked, and more bumping followed, soft thuds. Suddenly wide awake, Carol extricated herself from the blanket and slipped into the felt shoes. They were really ugly, but they were soft and warm. She tip-toed into the hallway to get herself a glass of water, but with each step, the thumping sound got louder. When she was about to pass the Preston’s bedroom, she noticed ...