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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Mary Christmas
by The Technician (technician666@gmail.com)
***
Mary wraps herself up in lights as a Christmas present
for Paul. (F-solo, MF, bd, xmas)
***
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over
the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even
extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted
are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or
dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and
responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted
in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the
difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside
in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that
prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories,
please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere
that exists in the twenty-first century.
***
Mary read the text on her smart phone. "Boarding, see
you around ten." Paul would be home for Christmas. She
normally didn't mind the amount of travel he did with
his job, but the just-before-Christmas annual company
planning meeting had always irked her. Paul was always
gone for the three days before Christmas. He had
explained to her, "It's got to be done right at the end
of the year, so it is either just before or just after
Christmas. We will still have Christmas eve and
Christmas day together."
Christmas was a very special holiday for Mary. Her
maiden name, which she kept when she married Paul, was
Yule. Evidently, somewhere way back, one of her
ancestors was responsible for building the Yule fire and
for feeding the Yule Log slowly into the fire during the
Winter Solstice celebrations that pre-dated Christianity
in much of Northern Europe. With a name like Mary Yule,
it was natural that people would call her Mary
Christmas. And with a nickname like Mary Christmas, it
was natural that she would either hate Christmas or it
would be her favorite holiday. Mary loved Christmas.
Mary and Paul had even been married on Christmas day. It
had been almost impossible to find a minister or justice
of the peace who would marry them on that day. Finally,
in desperation, Mary had Goggled "Pastor Kringle" and
found a pastor by that name only a couple hour's drive
from where they lived. Because of his name, he
understood and agreed to officiate. His first name was
Christopher, spelled with a "K," so on Christmas Day,
five years ago, Mary Christmas was joined to Paul Davis
in holy matrimony by none other than Pastor Kris
Kringle, himself.
This was their five year anniversary, and Mary wanted
this to be the most special Christmas ever. She had a
very special gift in mind for Paul. When he got home, he
would find HER wrapped beneath the tree. Well, not
exactly beneath the tree. She would be more like a
separate tree standing - or more accurately, hanging -
in the middle of the living room.
She had been preparing this for months. It actually
started last Christmas when she saw a picture on line.
She was looking for decorating ideas by searching for
pictures of unusual Christmas lights. One of the
pictures which popped up was of a woman in bondage who
was wrapped completely in hundreds, if not thousands, of
Christmas lights.
The woman's legs were in a spreader bar and her feet
were barely touching the ground. Her hands were held
high and taut above her head by ropes which hung from a
stout hook that had been screwed into a ceiling rafter.
As soon as Mary had seen that image, she knew what she
was going to get Paul for their fifth anniversary. But
it was going to take a lot of planning.
The house was a western design with lots of wood
everywhere. She bought a heavy, wagon-wheel style
chandelier which looked very good in the living room,
but required a very strong anchor to hang from the
ceiling. Paul didn't quite understand why she was so
worked up when he installed it.
"You really like this, don't you?" he said as he looked
at her standing flushed and almost panting watching him
use a hammer as a lever to screw the massive black hook
into the ceiling. As soon as he was finished, she took
him into the bedroom and made mad, passionate love to
him. "Wow," he said afterwards. "I need to put up new
lighting more often."
Mary just smiled at him and thought, "Wait until you see
the lights next Christmas."
Over the summer, while Paul was gone on long trips, Mary
planned and practiced. The hook was exactly what she
needed, but the wagon wheel was very heavy and she
couldn't take it down by herself. Then she remembered
visiting her grandfather's farm as a child. He had an
old-fashioned barn with the big hay mow door on one end.
Above that door was a thick beam, and from that beam
hung a rope with a block and tackle.
Until aunt Louise caught them, she and her cousins used
to play with it and hoist each other up to the hay mow.
It took very little effort, and she was able to pull her
much older - and heavier - cousin up to the mow with no
problem.
Without telling them what it was for, she explained what
she was looking for to a clerk in a hardware store a
couple towns away. What she now had was smaller, made of
heavy plastic, but essentially the same block and tackle
mechanism that grandpa had once used to hoist hay bales
up into the barn.
She would pull it as short as possible, and then let it
out an inch or two. Then she would connect it to the
hook and to the top of the wagon wheel. Pulling it up
slightly enabled her lift the support chain off the
hook. Then she would lower the chandelier down to a
serving cart that was normally out on the back deck.
Putting herself in place of the chandelier was a little
trickier. There were two slightly smaller hooks that
carried the chain of the chandelier over to the wall.
From there a cord hung down and plugged into an outlet.
By trial and error, Mary discovered that if she ran the
rope through those hooks, she could pull downward
alongside the wall and easily pull the chandelier up in
place.
In fact, if she tied a two gallon bucket to the rope all
the way up at the ceiling, and then filled that bucket
with sand, it would descend to the floor and pull the
wagon wheel up almost to the top.
Rube Goldberg would have been pleased with her next
step. She placed a stepladder next to the bucket, and
put a plank across the top. One end of the plank went
under the bucket. From the other end, she hung a four
gallon insulated water jug which was suspended over a
plastic trough like you use to mix concrete. A rope ran
from the top of the big handle of the water jug to a
plant hook in the ceiling above it.
The jug had a pouring valve like you would find on a
large coffee pot. You could push down to pour a cup of
water, or lift up to lock the valve open. By slowly
adding sand to the bucket and water to the jug, she was
able to keep the system in balance.
When she opened the valve on the water jug, the water
would slowly drain out into the trough until the weight
of the jug could no longer counterbalance the bucket and
the bucket would begin to descend. The board would slide
off the ladder and drop to the ground beneath the
bucket. The water jug would drop slightly and then hang
there swaying above the trough.
She tested this arrangement several times, allowing it
to hoist her up to the ceiling. For each test, she made
sure that there were at least two chairs that she could
step onto so that she could get herself out of the ropes
if they tangled around her hands. Again, by trial and
error, she slowly blocked off the drain on the water jug
until it took around an hour for the sand bucket to
begin its descent.
The next step was figuring out a way to wined the lights
around her body. She first tested to see that the lights
would not burn her if they stayed against her skin for
too long. She unpacked the lights that were normally on
their tree and wrapped three 300 light strings around
herself. That seemed like the right amount, even though
they were bunched up very unevenly and didn't look
right. She would deal with that later. What she needed
to know now was would they burn her.
They didn't burn, but 900 Christmas tree lights give off
a lot of heat, and it got really warm wrapped up in
them. She bought several strings of LED lights on line
to solve that problem.
The next hurdle was getting the lights wrapped around
herself evenly. She practiced wrapping herself up in the
lights while holding on to the block and tackle which
she had connected to the hook. It had a swivel at the
top, so she was free to turn in circles beneath it.
No matter how slowly or rapidly she revolved, the lights
wouldn't wind properly around her body. She was starting
to think that she was going to have to confide in a
friend and have her wrap the lights for her when she
realized that if the lights were somehow fed from up
high, they would wrap properly around her body. The
question was how to hold the lights that high in the air
while she rotated.
The solution was the room divider shelf on the end of
the wall that separated the living room from the
kitchen. If she very carefully laid out the strings of
lights on the kitchen floor and then fed them through
one of the little square openings on the top shelf, she
could hold the end of the string in her hands and slowly
twirl to wind them around her body.
As long as the string remained fairly taut as it fed
through the shelf, the lights would descend slowly down
her body as she turned. She added an extension cord that
was plugged in on the living room side and fed through
the same square into the kitchen so that it would pull
out when all the lights were out of the kitchen.
After several practice sessions, she could wined the
lights around herself so that she was evenly covered and
there was nothing left but an extension cord leading
from the wall to her feet. Once she started putting her
feet into the spreader bar, it took a couple more
practice sessions to get it right again, but finally in
late November she was totally ready.
Since there was no getting out of this once she started,
she started asking Paul to text her just before boarding
his flight home whenever he was traveling. That way, on
Christmas Eve, she would know for sure that he was on
his way before she lit herself up.
As an added safety, she had also asked one of her
neighborhood friends to stop by sometime Christmas day
to pick up a present she had for their kids. If
something did go wrong and Paul's flight got diverted or
badly delayed, it would be embarrassing to explain why
she was hanging naked in the living room, but she would
not be permanently trapped.
Christmas eve finally came. The tree was lit. The
presents - except for her - were in place. The heavy,
wagon-wheel chandelier was out on the back deck. The
bucket of sand and the jug of water were balanced over
the step ladder. Mary was dressed in nothing but thigh-
high white stockings with little red bows on the back at
the top. A red satin mask was up on her forehead to be
pulled down when she was almost in place. In white
glittery letters on the front of the blindfold it said,
"To Paul - From Mary. Merry Christmas."
A wide red ribbon went around her throat and was tied in
a bow on the front. Red, very high-heeled shoes were on
her feet. Small golden bells were tied gently with green
ribbons to her nipples. A red Santa hat completed the
ensemble. She had debated coloring her pubic triangle
red or green, but instead decided to shave it
completely. A slight sheen of moisture glistened between
her legs as she waited for the message to come saying
that Paul was on his way.
Finally the message came. It was time. She opened the
water valve and then returned to the center of the room
and strapped her ankles into the spreader bar. Tonight
there were no chairs nearby, and she wasn't holding on
to the rope. Her wrists were in padded leather cuffs
which were connected to each other with the rope looped
between them. She pulled the blindfold down over her
eyes. When the bucket of sand descended, she would be
drawn tight.
But first, she had to put on the lights. One end of the
string of lights was tied firmly to the wrist cuff on
her left wrist. She started a slow, waddling turn to
begin winding the lights around her body. She hadn't
practiced this in the high-heels and was surprised at
how much harder it was to move in the spreader bar when
she was wearing them. She was worried that she wouldn't
have enough time, but finally she felt the large end of
the extension cord against her foot. Everything had gone
exactly as planned.
"Nothing to do now but wait," she said to herself. A few
minutes later, she heard the board drop from the step
ladder and felt her hands being pulled toward the
ceiling. Her full weight was no longer on her feet, but
they didn't leave the floor. She stood and listened -
and occasionally sang along with - the Christmas music
which played in the background.
Time passed slowly, but the anticipation merely fueled
the fire which was slowly building within her. Then she
heard the click of the front door - or was that the side
door? It was definitely the side door. Paul would have
come in the front door. "Paul?" she called out.
She had planned to remain silent, but now she was afraid
that someone else had come into the house. "Paul? Is
that you?"
There was no answer. Instead someone touched her. It was
a very soft touch, but someone definitely touched her.
Hands slid along the inside of her legs. They stroked
her breasts and lightly tweaked her nipples. They ran a
spiral path between the lights across her tummy, around
to her back, and then to the front where fingertips
danced across the front of her pubic mound.
"Paul? Is that you?" She gasped as the fingers plucked
lightly at her clit.
"Oh, please Paul, tell me that it is you."
No voice answered Mary. There was no sound in the room
except the Christmas carols playing in the background
and Mary's gasps and sighs as the hands continued to
play with her body. The ribbons that had been snug on
her nipples were now squeezing tightly as her nipples
engorged. The little bells jangled softly as she
thrashed her body back and forth trying to hold off an
impending orgasm.
The hands were now between her legs from the back.
Fingers were reaching up to her clit and sliding back
between her legs, taking her flowing juices across the
length of her crack. One hand was sliding through her
slit, the fingers of the other were probing her nether
rosebud. Paul had never done anything like that. God it
felt so wonderful! But who could this be?
Fingers were now in her cunt, pumping slowly. A single
digit pushed slowly into her ass. If this wasn't Paul,
she couldn't let him force her to orgasm! But if it was
Paul, why didn't he say something! Mary unclenched her
jaw and opened her mouth to again ask who it was, but
all that came out was a long, drawn out, moan of passion
that she had been holding so tightly within her.
Her hips were now bucking so wildly that her feet were
leaving the ground and she was swaying on the hook from
which she hung. And still the hands were pumping and
probing. In front, four fingers were sliding in and out
of her cunt. In back, two fingers pumped in opposite
rhythm. Mary was grunting loudly in time with each
thrust. Finally she exploded in a loud, shaking,
quaking, tremendous orgasm.
The hands went back to stroking her skin for a few
minutes and then they were gone. She heard a slight
swishing grinding noise that she recognized as the front
drapes being pulled open. The house sat fairly far back
from the road, and trees separated them from their
neighbors, but anyone driving by would be able to see
her hanging there.
She could feel her body redden with shame, but at the
same time she could feel heat flowing from her cunt. She
wished the hands were back. Her body seemed to be
swaying on its own, slowly pushing her cunt forward as
if seeking a lover hidden just beyond her reach. A
single sliding touch slid across her clit and then...
silence, followed by the click of the side door being
opened and the thunk of it being closed once again.
She was alone. "Paul?" she called out, but no one
answered. She listened for the sound of breathing or the
sound of movement or any sound at all, but if there were
any sounds of someone in the room with her, they were
hidden under the music.
Then the house phone rang. Hardly anyone called the
house phone. It was primarily for Paul's business and
half the time he had it forwarded to his cell. She heard
his voice ask whoever it was to leave a message, and
then she heard his voice again. "Mary, you didn't pick
up on your cell. Flight was delayed slightly, but I am
leaving the airport now. Actually, I am about half-way
home. Cab should get there in about fifteen minutes. See
you soon."
Paul put his cell phone back in his pocket and stood in
the snow near the end of his driveway watching the
lights of Mary Christmas sway and twist. Luckily it
wasn't really cold, so he wasn't going to get overly
chilled waiting out here. Besides, the sight of Mary
hanging like a living Christmas tree displayed through
the living room window was keeping his body very warm.
Would he tell her? Would she tell him? Would she know
when his hands traveled across her body once again to
take her to the heights of passion? Would he be able to
enter her while she was still suspended from the
ceiling? Or, would he have to let her down and unwind
her before he could fully unwrap his Christmas present?
Would he close the blinds before, or after, they had
celebrated their anniversary?
At last sufficient time had passed and he walked back up
to the house. This time he entered through the front
door, and so that she would know for sure that it was
him, called out, "Merry Christmas, Mary Christmas."
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 79