Are YOU on The Naughty List?
Straight from
Santa
at the
North Pole
The Naughty List
Christmas Anthology featuring Guest Nina Pierce
by
Gemma Parkes
Golden Angel
Muffy Wilson
Blak Rayne
Pablo Michaels
Excerpt from A Marine Corps Christmas Package by Muffy Wilson:
She walked into the lounge and looked exactly the
way she felt: wet, mean and thirsty for a dirty martini. It was pouring rain outside, so she was
soaked. Her long auburn locks were wet and plastered to her head but accentuated
the beauty of her hazel eyes. Holiday traffic was a bitch and her boss just
made a pass at her; she was pissed at him, and all men, at present. And she was
thirsty because of both. On impulse, she pulled into the parking lot and parked.
She opened the door to Luke’s Lounge and it was dark as night inside. Anya
stood in the doorway, dripping wet, as her clothes hugged the curves of her
body. The door closed while her vision adjusted. There were no seats at the bar
open, which pissed her off some more. She walked over to the widest open spot
in the crowd and leaned over the bar to order a drink from the bartender. A
Marine, seated at the bar, stood up to offer her his stool. She was impressed
by his kindness and chivalry. He waved at the bartender and let Anya settle in
while the bartender took her order.
“A dirty martini - bone dry - up with olives,” she
told the bartender.
“Merry Christmas. It’s ‘Ho-Ho-Ho-Happy Hour’: two
for one,” he replied.
“Even better,” she told him. “Bring ‘em on and keep
‘em coming until I ask you to stop.”
Anya turned to the Marine and said, “Thank you for
the stool. After tonight, I thought chivalry was dead,” while she fished for
her wallet in her briefcase.
When the bartender brought her drinks, she put out a
twenty-dollar bill and nodded at him. She closed her eyes and took her first
sip, feeling the warmth of the drink fire on all fours through her body, inch
by inch. She savored that very first sip luxuriously. It was like a lover’s
hands sliding down her body, igniting every inch as they felt their way to her
toes, leaving her in their molten path eager and hot for more.
She looked sublime, wet but sublime dressed in her
Brooks Brother’s suit, silk blouse and matching red silk undies. She loved
“dressing for success” because she always felt superior to all the other women
and most of the men. It was like professional armor. Aware that people looked
at her as if they wanted her made her feel better and gave her an intellectual,
emotional edge. As she reveled in her first sip, she turned to the Marine.
“I’m sorry, I forgot my own manners. May I buy you a
drink, Marine?”
He looked her full in the face, blushed slightly and
said, “Dennis Johnson. My friends call me Dj. Yes, thank you. I am enjoying the
smooth pleasures of Southern Comfort Manhattans.”
Anya waved to the bartender to get Dj another drink
and they both laughed. She noted that he was yummy good looking in his uniform.
She was a sucker for a hunk in uniform, going weak in the knees and wet
whenever she met a one that appealed to her; and he did. Immediately, Anya felt
conspicuous about her appearance. She was soaked to the bone and her hair was
still dripping wet. And…she was getting wet in her hot spot, just watching him
finger his cigar. She downed one of her drinks, excused herself and exited to
the ladies' room. She immediately
removed her wet trench coat and salvaged what she could of her clothes, then
went into one of the stalls. She could feel her mounting passion. It could have
been the result of a culmination of things, but it was there nonetheless. Her
boss made a pass at her; the “Silver Fox” had rubbed her leg along her inside
thigh when she asked for a transfer. She exploded with anger, but had to
control herself. She did not get to where she was by allowing impulse to guide
her career. Anya’s Father had a heart attack and she wanted to be closer to him,
particularly during the Holidays. She had thought it out and decided that a
move to the up and coming Atlanta office would be the best place for her career
to flourish and she could spend more quality time with her Dad. She attended a
regional meeting with her boss. After the meeting ended, she took him to the
airport where she asked for the transfer as she explained the reason for the
request.
“All the more reason to stay here: he’s not going to
live forever,” the bastard palmed her inside thigh and responded. She was
furious but composed. Anya rose, shook his hand and excused herself because of
the late hour and her long drive home in the rain home instead of spitting on
him as she wanted.
That passion welled up again as she thought of DJ at
the bar. Passion was passion no matter the genesis. It was a fiery feeling that
needed expression and release. In the stall, Anya raised her skirt. She moved
her red thong out to the side as she searched for her pussy, now wet and eager.
She knew this would not take long; so much had happened to her already tonight that
was charged with emotion. Her head
relaxed against the wall and she began to finger herself rapidly as she thought
about DJ holding his cigar and the size of his hands. God, but he was handsome,
tall and virile.
She wondered about his cock. Was he circumcised or
did he have a turtleneck sweater? She smiled and released a slight giggle. Was
he long, thin, short, thick, wide and flat, bushy or trimmed? How did he smell:
like a warm musky forest after a light rain or like boot leather? Did he like
briefs or boxers? Oh, God, maybe a thong…Was she going to be able to get her
hand in his pants tonight? Oh God, oh
God, she could feel the earlier anger redirecting energy to her clit as she became
more and more aroused at the thought of DJ in his Marine Corps uniform. She was adept at fingering herself and she
wasted no energy now. She began to moan and move with the rhythm of her hand
and fingers. She released her neck muscles and her head rolled to her shoulder,
then to the other shoulder. She could feel it all over now, everywhere. She was
getting more wet with each stroke. Damn, she wished she had her finger
vibrator, but she only carried it when she travelled.
She would have to rethink
that strategy another time.
Read more HERE:
Muffy, author of provocative romance about
love, sex, hope and passion, was born in Texas to traditional parents. With two
older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged
and pampered. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force
which required the family to travel extensively. Muffy spent her formative
years in Europe and 'came of age' in France which forged her joie de vivre and
love for books, writing and education.
Married and living in the tropical paradise of
SW Florida along the Gulf Coast, Muffy dabbles in real estate, writes and
enjoys life in the sun with her husband and wee Havanese pup, Burt.
~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion
Jan 2016 ~
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way
to the War A
Memoire of Lt.Col. Joe Lyle Jr
Feb 2016 ~ Indulgence
by the Erotic Authors Guild Anthology
Mar
2016 ~ Naughty Nights Press Anthology with Gina Kincade
May
2016 ~ Sequel to The Para-Portage of
Emily
July
2016 ~ Sequel to Moonbeams of Unintended
Consequences
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© 2000-2016 Muffy Wilson. [Muffy@MuffyWilson.com] All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
