The decoration massacre

The ladder teetered as Jane reached up to hang the pumpkin bunting. Her thoughts were on her costume, was “sexy slave girl” the right choice? The disaster three years ago when she was one of five “sexy cats” haunted her. Cheesy lines revolving around licking, finally one made her smile: “If I stroke you just right, will you purr?” it wasn't great but was enough, and the tight T-shirt of the firefighter clung to impressive muscles.

She had gone for drinks, wondering if she should invite him back to hers, or if they would end up at his. Another kitty had taken her place, fingers caressing large biceps.

She reached to loop the end of the bunting onto the hook and the ladder did more than teeter, it lurched. Trying to compensate she dropped the bunting and grabbing on with both hands, but the ladder was tipping.

The ladder swung back upright, and she was flung backwards.

“Crikey!” she fell on top of him, they both went over, landing on the floor. “You need to be more careful up there.”

Her cheeks were red, she couldn't turn to face the owner of the Australian accent. She froze, unable to move, embarrassment pinning her in place.

“Fancy getting off?”

She jumped up, “Sorry. Thank you.” She spoke as she turned, “You must be Christie's Dave” she said as she turned. Over 6 foot tool with very broad shoulders, he was an impressive man, a tussle of blonde hair above a tanned grinning face silenced her. Sleeves on his T-shirt strained to contain his arms.

“No worries, I guess I am Christie's Dave, how'd you guess?” His grin seemed to get even wider, his blue eyes shone.

Jane hadn't liked Christie from the start, younger than her with an incredible body she consoled herself by assuming fake breasts and dyed hair. Now meeting her husband she was beyond consolation.

“Need a hand?”

She realised she'd stood silent ignoring his first question, “Umm, sure we need more decorations.”

He smiled again, “Lead the way.”

She couldn't think of anything to say on the first set of stairs, knowing he was following her was unsettling her. On the second set of stairs she remained silent, him content walking in silence behind her.

The small store room was where something finally popped into her head, “Do you and Christie have kids?”

“Do you think we're from Boorowa?”

His question seemed nonsensical, “where?”

“Never mind, maybe I should introduce myself, I'm Dave, Christie's brother.” He held out his large hand for her to shake.

“I'm Jane, and seem to like making a fool of myself.” Her hand felt tiny in his.

“That's OK, I'm rather fond of girls throwing themselves on top of me before we've met.” His eyes gleamed, his hand still held hers.

She had no idea how much time passed as they stood on the landing, eventually she pulled her hand back, “the decorations are in here.” She opened the door behind her and without taking her eyes from his stepped backwards into the small store room.

He followed her in, closing the door behind him. She reached up and pulled the cord hanging from the light. His large hands went round her waist, full lips pressed against hers.

She pulled back, “I don't normally do this”, at least not since her hedonistic college days she thought.

His hands grabbed the hem of her tank top yanking it up her body. “Nor do I.” He replied as he kissed her again.

She struggled to peel the tight t-shirt from him, before unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down solid thighs. Fingers splayed over her shoulder-blades pulling her against him. She unbuttoned her own jeans, wriggling as she pushed them down her legs.

His hands moved down to her ass gripped her tightly pulling her upwards as he moved forwards. Her back hit the shelves as she was lifted, a box of Christmas decorations fell over, electric blue tinsel tumbling down in a cascade, baubles bounced over the floor. Her legs wrapped round him, one arm over his shoulder, her other reached down between them.

Her fingers pulled him from the confines of taught briefs, fingers curling round it appreciating the length and girth before pushing aside the damp fabric of her thong and directing him inside.

He surged forward, her back smacking against the shelves harder, more tinsel joined the mess on the floor. Glass ornaments clanged as they knocked together in their boxes. She cried out and grabbed the shelf to the side, a stack of Easter bonnets tumbled down.

His mouth went to her neck, hot lips pressing against soft skin as thrust up into her. With each thrust she let out a moan, a cry, a scream. The desire and passion stoked by his intensity pushed her body quickly towards climax.

Her nails clawed at his back trying to pull him against her, her legs squeezed round him. Every thrust rattled the shelves, decorations bounced together, boxes tottered towards the edge.

The shelves banged against the wall faster and harder, her cries grew louder. She didn't care about the noise, about being heard, all she cared about was the fast approaching orgasm.

She screamed out as the orgasm exploded within her. Her arm flung out sideways, a box of valentines confetti fell over releasing a cloud of a pink and white tissue hearts around them.

He lowered her down carefully, feet searching for space amongst the decorations. Looking around standing in just underwear and pumps amid tinsel, baubles, bonnets, confetti and a papier-mâché turkey she started laughing.

Dave's grin grew wider as he looked down at the mess, pulling her against his bare chest he started laughing too.



Word Count: 959