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Naughty or Nice
Christmas Erotica Stories
by Edited by Alison Tyler
Nov 2007
Trade Paper
$14.95 US
($19.50 CAN)
978-1-57344-294-7 | 9781573442947
1-57344-294-1 | 1573442941
180 pp
48 per carton
Erotica
FICTION
Erotica
Fall 2007
Imprint Rights: USCOxE
Title Rights: W
Product Safety: Mfgr warrants no warnings apply
Published by
Cleis Press
Description:
A blazing-hot feast of holiday erotica sure to jingle sleigh bells and curl mistletoe.
Replete with visions of sugar plums, big juicy candy canes, and stockings eager to be filled, Naughty or Nice? is an irresistible collection of holiday erotica to make anyone wish the season of giving lasted all year long. The narrator of Shanna Germain’s “Good Little Girl,” might pretend to be nice, but when she goes before her lover dressed as Santa, the naughty truth comes out. In “Carol’s Christmas,” Lisette Ashton retells Dickens’ famous story, and though Carol doesn’t learn the ghosts’ lesson, she still gets just what she wants for Christmas.
Excerpt:
Introduction
By Alison Tyler
Naughty or Nice?
I don’t even have to ask, do I?
If you’re reading this, if you’re standing there with the book open in your hot little hands, then you have to admit to being among the naughty. But don’t worry if your stockings are destined to be filled with coal each year, because naughty is the best way to be.
Why?
When you’re naughty, you can leave a few extra buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of bare skin or a bit of racy lingerie. When you’re naughty, you can hold a stranger’s eye for an extra long beat, imparting visions of twisted sex fantasies with your gaze alone. And when you’re naughty, you can plunge yourself into the delicious confections created by the authors in this book—all of them just as naughty as you are! Or perhaps even naughtier still.
Check out Shanna Germain, for instance. Her character might pretend to be a good little girl. At least, at first. But when she goes before her lover dressed in drag as Santa, the truth comes out:
“I don’t see you on my good list, though,” Shannon pulled at her beard with one white-gloved hand. “Something tells me you were a bad girl this year.”
“Oh no, Santa, I was…” I didn’t know what to say. Had I been good? And if so, was I going to get whatever I wanted? But if I was bad, then maybe I would have to be punished. I couldn’t decide.
But it didn’t matter, because Shannon was rubbing her gloved hands up my bare thighs. The fabric was soft and silky against my skin, and I imagined her pressing the tips to my clit, rubbing, soaking up my juices. She was whispering in my ear, her beard scratching against my skin. “I think you were a very bad girl, don’t you?”
In "Carol’s Christmas," Lisette Ashton retells the famous Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. Unfortunately, Carol doesn’t learn from the lessons shown to her by the Ghost of Christmas Future. But that doesn’t mean she won’t get what she wants for Christmas:
She laughed giddily and allowed another rush of glorious satisfaction to quiver through her frame. She had been blessed with a glimpse of a bleak and agonizing future and she couldn’t wait to experience every one of the painful torments she had been shown.
Of course, naughtiness doesn’t know the bounds of any particular holiday. The luscious Lisabet Sarai uncovers the kinky sex of a long-time married couple, who find truly twisted ways to use their Channukah candles:
"It hurts, doesn't it, Leah? Especially on such a sensitive part of your body. But the burning fades. The heat travels through you. You feel it here, between your legs, don't you? Hot and wet."
Being naughty also crosses the lines of sexual preferences, as deliciously displayed in Domic Santi’s humorously sexy “Mulled Wine.”
“Why does your dick taste like mulled wine?”
If Glen and I were monogamous, that would be a problem question. Fortunately, we’re not. So I grinned when I looked down at him and said, “I stopped at Jake and Karl’s Christmas party on the way home.”
“Oh, indeed!” Glen leaned forward, once more sucking my dick into his mouth. His short blond curls bobbed against his Santa hat and his blue eyes twinkled up at me. He sucked me long and slowly, like he was drawing the flavor off my skin to differentiate each of the specific tastes. “Cinnamon, clove,” he laughed, pulling back for a moment. “Perhaps a hint of allspice….”
In my opinion, life doesn’t get much naughtier than performing a taste-test for spices on your lover’s cock. And as the Queen of Naughty, I should know.
So pour your own goblet of mulled wine, find a willing partner, and get ready to do a taste test of your own. Or at least one willing to listen to a few X-rated X-mas tales.
**********************************
A Good Little Girl
By Shanna Germain
“Daria’s Delights, this is Kay, how may I help you?”
“I got a job,” Shannon’s voice on the phone was a pleasant relief from a crazy morning of pre-Christmas underwear sales.
“Holy shit!” I said. The man standing at the counter looked up from the string-of-pearl thong he was holding. “Sorry,” I said to him. He nodded, and went back to trying to decide between pearl and chain.
Into the phone, a little softer, I said, “Shan, that’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”
She laughed into the phone. She’s got a big, boisterous laugh that I love. “It’s just a seasonal gig.”
“Who cares,” I said. “Tell me all about it.”
“Can’t, it’s a surprise.” Shannon sounded more like her old self than she had since she’d been laid off from work a few months ago. Since then, she’d tried to find temporary holiday work, but had mainly been sulking around the house and scrubbing things out of guilt for not bringing in any money.
“Meet me tonight and I’ll show you,” she said. “I’ll leave directions on the bed.”
After I hung up the phone, I couldn’t stop smiling, even though the man didn’t buy anything. Directions on the bed? That was our long-time term for an evening of fun, but we hadn’t had the money—or the desire—to do anything in a while.
All day long, as I wrapped lacy thongs destined for Christmas gifts, I tried to figure out what kind of job she’d gotten that would entail directions on the bed. I couldn’t imagine her bartending. She was just too honest to kiss the asses of drunk business men. And I doubted she’d be dancing topless—Shannon was built more like a barrel than a Barbie. I personally loved her thick thighs and round belly, but I doubted that was the look that most dollar-stuffers were going for.
As soon as my shift was over, I ran home to see what she’d left me. Spread out on the bed was a girly mini skirt with a white baby-doll T. “Pigtails are good. Clean-shaven is also good,” she’d written on the sticky note on top of my tennis shoes. “See you soon.”
I hopped in the shower for a quick rinse and shave. Clean-shaven meant I’d most likely be getting at least semi-naked in front of others soon. Shannon knew there were few things I loved more than fucking her in public. I didn’t know how that worked into the job. Maybe it didn’t; maybe I was just going to pick her up and we’d go somewhere after.
In the bedroom, I pulled everything on, including a pair of boy-cut panties, then took a look in the mirror. The short blue skirt showed my long legs nearly to the bottom of my ass and the T-shirt Shannon picked out was so tight it highlighted my small boobs. Jesus, I looked about 16. I completed the look with a smear of shiny lip gloss.
The bad news was that my legs were bare. Shit, I was going to be freezing my ass off. Didn’t she realize it was the middle of December?
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