The Very, Very Good Girl

The Very, Very Good Girl Joanne Smyth All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2007 Joanne Smyth

Warning: This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers. “I’m here to deliver your present,” said the Elf, folding his thick arms over his chest. “Santa’s orders.” Michelle blinked stupidly at him. If she hadn’t just seen the Elf clamber out of her chimney -- her fake chimney, the plastic prop she’d bought at the supermarket -she wouldn’t have believed a word of it. Still, since when did Santa let his Elves wander around without a shirt on? she wondered. Wasn’t it terribly cold in the North Pole? Not that she was complaining about the view. The Elf was built: thick across the shoulders, arms roped with muscles, torso tapering to a lean, mean sextet, his skin a smooth, all-over tan that he definitely didn’t get from hanging out with polar bears. He had a nice face, too, with almond-shaped green eyes and a shock of brown hair that fell loosely over his pointed ears. Pretty sexy, all things considered. Michelle hoped he might stick around a bit after delivering her present -- maybe she could tempt him with some Christmas pudding. “I guess he thought you’d had a bit of a rough year, too,” the Elf said, checking his notes. “After your best friend ditched you, and you didn’t get the promotion you wanted, and all those blind dates turned out to be idiots--” “How did you know that? Where are you reading that?” “Santa knows everything,” the Elf replied, with a wink. “But he also knows that you’ve been helping out at the animal shelter whenever you’ve had a free moment, and

you took care of your co-worker’s daughter while she was sick. And you’ve performed countless other Good Deeds, often thanklessly.” “Well, anyone would have done them,” Michelle shrugged, still blushing from the mention of her embarrassing forays into dating. She tugged her nightgown around her, just a mite tighter. “I’m not special.” “I’d beg to differ,” the Elf replied, and tucked his notes into a pocket of his trousers -- rather garishly green trousers, but at least he wasn’t wearing those curledup-at-the-tip Elf shoes. “As would Santa. Which is why you’re getting a very different present this year.” “I am?” He stepped forward, and with a flick of his wrist, he’d parted her nightgown. Squeezing her bum with one big and not very Elfy hand, he gazed for a long moment into her eyes. Michelle caught her breath. Then his wide mouth was pressed to her lips, his tongue caressing hers with an agonising slowness. Every part of her body tingled in delight. She felt his cock against her hip, hard and commanding, its head nudging at her flower-pattered nightdress. He parted from her, his handsome face serious. “Yes. Me.” Gasping, Michelle decided she was definitely going to write Santa a thank-you letter this year. The couch was covered in the detritus of last-nights present wrapping, scissors and paper and sticky-tape, so they had to make do with the floor. Sinking to his knees, the Elf dragged Michelle down to sit astride him. Amazing, how strong he was… She felt almost light-headed, letting him lead her, wrapping her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his skin -- which smelled, as she discovered when she licked at his jaw, very much like cookie-dough. “Are you sure this is what Santa wants?” she asked, breathless. “Of course.” He rucked up her nightdress with swift, clever hands and slid them along her thighs, massaging and teasing, but never quite touching her pussy. Already she was wetter than she’d ever been with the duds she’d dated; something about that

sweet smell of his made her hornier than ever. A flick of his finger on her pussy lips, and Michelle moaned. Oh, give me my Christmas present now! She felt his cock springing free of his trousers, so hot, so right, and rolled her hips toward it, the head pressing her pussy, rolling in her juices. Now it was the Elf’s turn to squirm, his handsome face contorting in a look that combined both bliss and a more primal need. He buried his face in her breasts, kissed them through the cotton, suckled her budding nipples to prominence, squeezed and kneaded them until Michelle’s body sang with pleasure. She could take it no longer. Digging her nails into his shoulders, Michelle sank down on his length, savouring each inch of him, his thick Elf cock hitting exactly the right spot to make her moan again. Grasping her hips, the Elf guided her into a quick rhythm, and she rocked with him, enjoying the sensation of both his cock and the way her nipples rubbed his bare chest, the friction of the cotton and skin almost electric. Each time she pumped his cock, rising and falling, her pussy twinged in ecstasy, an ecstasy that grew with every thrust. A sudden heat pooled in her stomach, and Michelle knew she was going to come. She grasped the Elf’s face in her hands and stared for a second into those amazing green eyes, before kissing him again, harder, investing every last drop of her stamina in the crush of their lips. When she came, he did too, and it seemed to go on forever, wave after wave, quaking her body with each pulse of pleasure, until she was nearly whimpering from it, her nightgown soaked in their mingling juices. Inside her his cock spasmed and stilled. They held each other for a time. Eventually he lifted her from his lap and kissed her face. “Michelle?” he said. “Yes?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Be very, very good next year.”

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