Advent Calendar (An Erotic / Erotica Paranormal Tale)

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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES
ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic
language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please
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All sexually active characters in this work
are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s
imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be
made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Shirley Burnett

Advent Calendar © December 2010 Selena
Kitt

e
X
cessica publishing

A Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

Advent Calendar

CHAPTER ONE:
Day 1

I asked her what the hell
had she left on my kitchen table, and she said it was an advent
calendar. Listen, if I didn't have so much wood for this girl that
I could personally re-populate the rain forest myself, I would have
tossed it out with last night's pizza boxes, believe me. The
fucking thing was huge! It covered the whole goddamned kitchen
table, but bless her heart, she had cleared the way to leave it
there, so now all our neglected Captain Crunch soggies and Mac'n
Cheese greenies had made it into the sink, believe it or not. Tyler
thought my mom had come to visit or something and cleaned
up.
Fat chance.

"What in the hell is that thing?" he asked,
putting a case in the fridge. It wasn't very festive, I'll admit,
but that was Betsy's artistic style alright. Just a huge white
piece of cardboard with twenty-five black doors that had numbers
written in white letters on the front of them.

"Gift from Betsy." I shrugged.

"Jesus, you still got that one hangin' on?"
He took a swig out of the milk carton, grimaced, glanced at the
date and put it back in the fridge.

"Have you seen her?" I raised my
eyebrows.

"Yeah." He snorted. "I've seen her—and her
damned Tampax in the bathroom and her make-up and shit all over the
counter. She might as well be our extra roommate, right? What are
you gonna do—marry this chick?"

"No." I bristled. I knew
he was right. I didn't date girls like Betsy, and if I did, I
didn't date them very long. I don't know why she had me so hooked,
but she did, and I was wiggling like a damned worm and I knew it.
She was a pusher—one of those girls that took over your space an
inch at a time, and before you knew it, you were watching "Terms of
Endearment" and going to meet her parents.
To hell with that.
I wasn't gonna do
it. She was, admittedly, a very, very fine piece of ass, and we had
some good times together, but that was as far as it
went.

"Well, get it the hell out
of here, man, we got gaming tonight!" He reminded me.
Shit.
At least she'd
already cleared the table. I lugged it to my room, propping it
against the far wall. Christ, it was nearly as tall as the
dresser!

"You open one door every day until
Christmas." She’d smiled that lopsided Betsy smile over her
shoulder at me while she pulled on the panties I had thoroughly
stuffed into her mouth not twenty minutes before to keep old man
Waters upstairs from banging on the floor. They were still wet
across the ass from her saliva. My cock jumped, even after the
three hour and two spurt workout he'd just had.

Advent calendar? Like I
cared how many days 'til Christmas? "Advent is about rebirth," she
told me. "Advent calendars are countdowns to a new beginning."
Beginning of what, I wondered? It occurred to me that maybe she'd
put something hot under there. I studied it more carefully. The
doors were big enough—there could be a pair of panties or something
folded behind each one. I smiled.
Nowwww
we're talking. Bad, bad, Betsy!
I squatted
in front of the enormous rectangle, lifting the lower corner of
door number one to peer underneath, just to see if I could see
anything, but I couldn't. I never was very good at impulse control.
In that moment, I had a flash of memory—me trying to peek under the
tiny little flaps on my mom's advent calendar when I was a kid.
Funny how I always hoped it would be a picture of something really
magical, but it was just a star or a snowman or some such shit. Not
even space rangers or rockets or anything. Why the hell you'd have
those on a Christmas calendar was beyond my seven-year-old
comprehension, obviously, but angels and Christmas trees just
weren't cool.

"Fuck it." I grinned a
little sheepishly. I could open it whenever I wanted. In fact, I
could open every goddamned door today if I wanted, right? Besides,
it was December first. The door was rectangular, like the calendar
itself, and tabbed, you know, those slip tab A into slot B kind. I
popped it open, noting that the white, scripted "1" was in Betsy's
handwriting, with the same eerie sense of anticipation and
subsequent disappointment I'd experienced as a kid—only this time
it wasn't a candy cane or a snowflake, but just a creamy blank
white space. Nothing.
What the
hell?

I leaned in, squinting. Maybe it was like
one of those "Magic Eye" or holographic things or something and you
had to look at it from a different angle? But no matter which way I
turned, I couldn't see anything, and there sure weren't any panties
stuffed inside! The one thing I noticed was a slight lingering
odor, and I could only smell that when I leaned in really
close—something like oranges or cloves. Weird.

"Funny, Betz." I
grudgingly went to take a shower before my five hour shift.
Building all the ride-on stuff at Toys R Us this time of year was
brutal with every little kid moaning for a new bike for Christmas
they couldn't ride until spring anyway. My soapy hand found its way
to my stiffening cock. He had a damned mind of his own. No rest for
the weary! The minute I saw Betsy's scrunchie thingie hanging over
the hot water faucet and recalled her the day before yesterday,
pulling it off her wrist to put her hair up and back and out of the
way while I pounded her from behind, my cock instantly responded to
the memory. Damn, but she had a fine ass. I could see it filling my
hands as I grabbed her hips, the way the creamy flesh parted when I
put my thumb—just so—to show me the winking pucker of her asshole.
The thought of sliding into
that
brought my dick to full mast, and my hand moved
more quickly.

Jerking with soap was
always tricky. You had to move fast, before the sting overcame the
added sudsy pleasure. I put my foot up on the edge, leaned back and
went to work. I wasn’t sure if coming was even possible after our
marathon afternoon, but the sensation was too stubborn to ignore,
or I was too stubborn to ignore it. I pictured Betsy's pussy,
watching her spread open those baby-bald lips from behind with two
fingers, urging me on, "Fuck, Jay! Don't tease me! Put it in!" I
could never watch myself fuck her for more than a few minutes
during sex or it would send me immediately over, but I watched it
at my leisure now, the slippery, wet movement of my hand inferior
but sufficient, mimicking the impossibly hot moisture of her
incredible hole.
Jesus, god, there’s
nothing like it!

I grunted, couldn't help
it, my balls drawing up with that inevitable tingling tightening
that meant I was close. I got myself an image to come to almost
immediately: Betsy spreading her cheeks slightly for me, one finger
reaching to gently stroke the dark crinkled mouth of her ass—she
did it just to tease me. She wouldn't let me have it, but she knew
just the suggestion would send me over, and it had, and it did. I
gritted my teeth, hips bucking, cum baptizing the tub faucet and
dripping toward the drain. I leaned against the tiles, panting,
feeling suddenly weak and exhausted. I could use about a ten hour
nap. Not much cum, I noted.
She's sucking
me dry.
I stood under the hot shower for a
few more minutes before starting to suds up my hair. Maybe it was
the shampoo, although I thought it was supposed to be coconut,
because I could suddenly smell the powerful odor of oranges and
cloves.

CHAPTER TWO:
Day 5

"So, seriously, what's the joke?" I
asked.

She was hanging her head
off the end of my bed, watching the tail end of
A Charlie Brown Christmas Special
upside down.

"Don't you love the way
they talk?
Wah, wahhh
wahhhhh
. Isn't that totally how you used
to hear grown-ups?" She lolled her head off the corner and put her
bare feet up on the wall, crossing them at the ankles.

"I still hear grown-ups that way," I
snorted, pulling my t-shirt on. "Come on, Betz, give."

"Oh, this wasn't enough
for you?" She teased me, opening her thighs and pointing between
them. Her pussy lips were still a little swollen and they
glistened. I sat next to her, my hand inevitably drawn to the
wetness, rubbing the moist and slightly sticky skin with my
thumb.
God, she’s intoxicating.

"Everything isn't about sex, you know?" I
tried to sound serious, although my fingers betrayed me and slid
through her slit as my cock began to throb against my thigh.

She laughed—god, I loved her laugh—it
tinkled, like ice crystals forming in midair. Rolling off the bed,
she grabbed for the remote and started to flip channels. "Do you
have CNN? I have to see if they're broadcasting any other signs of
the apocalypse."

"Ha." I said. "Ha." She grinned up at me,
sprawled naked on my floor, her hair like dark chocolate streams
covering the generous swell of her breasts. "Well, if you're not
gonna tell me what it's all about, I'm not opening any more of
those stupid doors." I grabbed a new pair of briefs out of my top
drawer, shoving the advent calendar aside to do it. It toppled
toward the wall and balanced there, its first five black doors
hanging askew showing five decidedly blank white spaces.

Every morning I felt like a fool, opening a
new door in the hopes that this time, something would appear. I had
noticed a different odor each day—first the oranges and cloves,
then cinnamon, then something I couldn't identify at all, then
something that smelled faintly like pumpkin pie. I joked with her
on the phone that she had invented the world's first "Scratch 'N
Sniff" advent calendar. She just laughed. There was a different
smell today, like those red and white pinwheel peppermint candies
my grandmother used to keep in her pocket to keep us quiet in
church, but it didn't linger long. I was getting really tired of
whatever game Betsy was playing.

"Nice ass," she commented softly. I didn't
reply, tugging my jeans on. God, she pissed me off sometimes.

"Is that all I am to you?"
I tossed her jeans off my bed and into her lap. Her eyes were
bright, dancing, as she looked up at me, incredulous. I stopped, my
jaw as slack as hers. "What the fuck?" I said softly, out loud,
rubbing my chin thoughtfully.
What the
hell am I saying? What the hell do I care?

"I'm gonna go home." She started to get
dressed. I couldn't see her face as she bent to slide her panties
on. I felt bad all of a sudden and then I was pissed that I felt
bad. This wasn't good at all. I watched her slide her jeans on, her
back to me, her panties caught slightly in the crack of her ass. My
cock jerked reactively, just seeing her bent over and sliding denim
up her shapely thighs. I sat on my bed, uncertain.

"You don't have to keep opening them if you
don't want to." She kissed my cheek and smiled softly before
opening my bedroom door. She must have been chewing gum because she
smelled like peppermint.

"There's no point!" I
called after her. "It's not funny!" I heard her laugh and gritted
my teeth. This wasn't gonna fly. I was done.
I don't care how much she gets my dick hard, no girl is worth
this kind of hassle and game-playing.

CHAPTER THREE:
Day 8