“I found a great way to use our leftover wrapping paper.” Lucy’s voice filters in from the living room as Theresa finishes removing her boots, hat, scarf, gloves, and coat.
“Oh, yeah?” Theresa says, stepping into the living room. “And what’s th—”
Words leave her when she sees Lucy on her knees on the living room carpet, a red bow perched atop her dark curls, scraps of wrapping paper taped all over her body to make a festive hodgepodge of an outfit. Part of her wants to laugh until she spots the gift tag Lucy’s hung on herself. “For you,” it reads.
“Come unwrap your present,” Lucy says, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
Theresa doesn’t hesitate but drops to her knees and begin to slowly unstick paper from Lucy’s shoulders, back, arms, and stomach, saving the best for last. When she peels the paper off Lucy’s round, gorgeous breasts, she takes a moment to dip her head down to flick her tongue over one nipple, then the other, to squeeze and to run her thumbs along the sensitive skin under each breast. Lucy moans, then scolds. “You haven’t finished yet,” she says, a full-pledged pout on her lips.
Lucy shifts so that her legs are directly in front of her and Theresa can continue unwrapping her, strip by strip, stopping to press a kiss to each bit of skin revealed, making Lucy giggle and squirm. As she moves up Lucy’s legs, her kisses drop to Lucy’s inner thighs, and she takes her time there, kissing and licking and, once Lucy’s moans drop into that low, earthy octave that means Theresa’s driving her crazy, starts to nibble and then to bite, savoring Lucy’s whimpers as her teeth come down over Lucy’s sensitive flesh. Lucy’s wearing something like wrapping paper panties—where does she get these ideas?—and Theresa reaches up and rips the paper away in a swift movement, until her pussy, glistening with wetness, is revealed with all its glorious soft pink folds.
Theresa dives in with enthusiasm, finding all the places she knows Lucy’s sensitive and pressing her tongue, thick and flat, against them, before releasing the pressure slowly, gently, until her tongue is ghosting over skin. She does this again and again, and Lucy slides down so her back is on the floor, limbs spread over discarded scraps of wrapping paper, which crinkle as she writhes with pleasure and begs Theresa to “keep going, don’t stop, keep going, darling—ah!”
When Lucy comes, it’s with two of Theresa’s fingers in her, and Theresa feels the hot muscles contract around her as her lover rides out her climax, delicious moans falling from her lips. When she finishes, Theresa plants a soft, single kiss on her lips.
“You know,” she says, mischief in her voice. “I think we should do this every holiday.”