Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Sarah was surveying her as yet-to-be-unpacked new living room when her phone rang.

Joel, she thought, picking up the phone, excited for the welcome distraction.

“Hi!” Sarah smiled into the phone.

“Hey, Sarbear!” Joel’s warm voice filled the room. “How’s the settling in process going?”

“Ugh. I hate it,” Sarah responded, releasing a puff of air, pouting. She’d been in the house for almost three weeks now and had little to show for it.

“What?” Joel, protested, “You do not! When we moved in you were all about the packing and unpacking process. Jesus, half our cabinets are still arranged the way you did ’em.”

“I know,” she laughed, thinking of her best friend’s warm home, 3,000 miles away. “But that was YOUR house. It’s different with my stuff.”

“Just pretend it’s not your house, then. Problem solved.”

Sarah rolled her eyes.

“I heard that,” Joel scolded.

And Sarah beamed. “I miss you guys.”

“Aw, sunshine, we miss you, too! Thanksgiving’s not going to be the same without your famous pies. Catherine’s still planning on making some, but I said we should just make brownies, because if it’s not your pie, it’s not worth the calories.”

“Nah, she’ll do fine!” Sarah retorted, thinking of how she helped coach Catherine in the weeks before she moved, showing her all the tried and true secrets she’d acquired in her five plus years as a professional pastry chef.

“The last few times we made them together, you couldn’t even tell who was the head chef in charge.”

“Maybe, but you still work magic into your food, I swear it.”

“Thanks for the reminder. How’s Cath? How’s the little guy?”

“They’re both good. Oliver’s napping now, so she’s at the store trying to beat the mad rush. You know how she likes everything to be perfect.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to miss his first Thanksgiving!” Sara said, looking at the picture of her godchild on the fridge. “Give him a snuggle for me.”

“Done and done.” Joel said, and Sarah knew she’d be getting some cute snapshots delivered to her phone later. Her best friends knew how hard this transition was going to be, probably better than she did.

“Listen, though,” Joel said, “Cath and I were sitting here last night, thinking about you all by yourself in New England, having a lonesome, albeit it idyllic Turkey Day, and we just couldn’t stand the thought of you not making pies for anyone.”

“Mostly because you want the pies,” Sarah teased.

“Mostly.” Joel said, laughing, “but also because we know how much you like the holidays. Sooooo, we found you a place to go! You’re going to Dougie’s.”

“Is that like, a wayward kitchen for the down and out?”

“Oh, hush. No, Doug! You remember, from our wedding? C’mon. I KNOW you guys danced together. He remembers you!”

Joel and Catherine’s wedding was six years ago, but yes, she did remember Doug. He was a friend of Cath’s. Smart, charming, super good looking, and arm candy for one of the bridesmaids, who, like Catherine, had attended college with him.

As Joel’s groomswoman, Sarah had heard a lot about “Dougie”, from the bridesmaid who got progressively drunker on the limo ride to the reception. So, when she got there, she wanted to meet him for herself, and was not disappointed. Doug was charming, funny, a great dancer, and, unfortunately for her, attached.

“Anyways,” Joel said, “turns out he lives a few towns away from you, and he’s super excited for you to join his crew for dinner. It’s similar to what we do – more friends than family – so it won’t be weird for you to join.”

Speak for yourself, Sarah thought, as she got up her courage to say yes to this invitation to a mostly-stranger’s home.

“He’s going to text you directions later this afternoon. And he’s expecting you to bring pies.”

“Aw, gee thanks.”

“Listen, if we aren’t going to get to eat them, someone should! Can’t break tradition, Sarbear. Just move it around a little.”

She knew he was trying to be helpful, but the thought of her first holiday alone made her heart hurt. And then she heard crying in the background.

“Oh, shoot, that’s Oli!” Sarah could hear her godson’s cries over the phone. “He’s up from his nap. Gotta run! Have fun, and let us know how it goes!”

“I will, big love to everyone there!” Sarah said, rushing their goodbye.

“You got it!” Joel said, right before the line went dead.

Sarah looked at her house, a mishmash of boxes and items unpacked. She moved to Massachusetts three weeks ago, the culmination of a decision that had been months in the making. She’d been in California for the past ten years – a bunch of her college crew had stayed on after graduation – and she’d built quite the family of friends over the past decade.

She and Joel had met in college – best friends since sophomore year – and when he met Catherine a few years after graduating, Sarah was thrilled that he had finally found his match. The three of them got along famously, and she was closer to them than she güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri was her blood relatives.

But, a few months ago, she decided she needed a change. The 3 year relationship Sarah’d been in had fizzled out, and the hours she was logging as an acclaimed pastry chef at a posh resort got to be impossible to manage.

When a small, but popular, bakery she had visited on a vacation to her newly adopted sea-side town a few years earlier posted online that the owners were looking to sell, Sarah jumped at the opportunity.

Now that she was here, though, she was feeling slightly foolish. She didn’t really know anyone – a few cousins here and there, and some alumni and chefs that she was meaning to connect with – and that combined with the impending holidays made her feel like she’d made a mistake in uprooting herself all because a picturesque storefront she had forgotten she’d liked on Facebook became available for sale.

Sarah shook her head. Snap out of it. Joel’s right. This house would have been unpacked last week if it wasn’t my own. She started moving boxes and beginning to settle into her new life, taking a deep breath and telling herself that this WAS a good decision. She already had a place to go on Thanksgiving.


A few hours later, she was in the bedroom, unpacking her clothes when her phone chirped. A new e-mail, from Doug.

She opened it and read the contents.

Hi, Sarah!

Cathy and Joel said that you’re in my neighborhood. Welcome! They also said that you were planning on being all alone for Thanksgiving, which is totally absurd. You’re coming to my house. Don’t argue.

We’ll eat at 3 p.m. but feel free to come by whenever. The cocktails start with mimosas at 9 a.m. – my sister insists we drink while we prep -, so truly, anytime after that is good. I’m copying directions from your place to mine. (Joel gave me your address, hope that’s not weird!) Should be a picturesque 45 minute drive.

Holler if you having any questions! Looking forward to reconnecting with you. I’ll make sure to warn all the guest that Meatloaf is not on the menu. 😉


Sarah laughed out loud. She had completely forgotten that they’d both cringed watching people dance to “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” and had a lengthy, giggly conversation about how Meatloaf should be banned from any group gathering that wasn’t karaoke.

She wrote him a message thanking him, giving him her number, and saying that she was looking forward to the meal. And she realized: she really was. Especially as she looked at the thumbnail image that came up next to his e-mail address. He was just as good looking as she’d remembered, and wondered if it would be tacky to inquire with Cathy whether or not he was still dating her bridesmaid friend. A few seconds later, her phone chirped again. This time it was a text message.

Sarah, it’s Doug! Just wanted to make sure we were in each other’s phones. See you in a few days!

Thanks for inviting me! How many people are you expecting?

Right now the list is about 20, but we may get more stragglers.

Sounds good to me!

Fantastic. Cathy said I’m in for a real treat.

Sarah blushed. I don’t want to brag, but I HAVE won an award or two of these bad boys.

You’re an award winner?!

Yeah, my pies are acclaimed.

Wait, pies? You’re going to bring pies? Excellent!

Sarah blushed even harder. Sorry, I thought you knew that!

No, Cathy said YOU were the treat. 😉

Heat-seeking missiles could find Sarah’s face if they were launched right now.

So long as you don’t ask me to love you forever. She teased back.

Well, I certainly won’t ask you to make ME your wife, if that’s what you’re worried about. :p Doug bantered, returning her Meatloaf lyric with one of his own.

Ha. No. That’s off the table. Pie’s are on it, though, don’t worry there.

With extra whipped cream? 😉

Sarah felt her stomach flutter. Are we flirting? She wondered, and decided to test it.

Are we still talking about dessert? she typed and hit send before she second guessed it.

Haha, her phone chirped.

And then, again, Just have a sweet tooth, don’t hold it against me.

Never would. Talk later! Sarah responded, burying her head in her pillow.

You have no friends, why would you chance it with the one person you kinda-sorta know? If only he wasn’t so damned good looking. And if only it hadn’t been so long since I’ve gotten laid…

Sarah screamed into her pillow. She felt better. Will I ever get over being an awkward flirt? She wondered. I should just go for it. Who cares? Cathy had reported that Doug was single when she had texted her earlier. She probably told him! Sarah groaned. That was why Doug said I was the treat.

Well, cards – and pies – are all on the table now. She sighed. Might as well just enjoy it.

She moved back to the box she was unpacking, and got to the bottom, where all her bras and underwear güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri were. And… her purple vibrator, which she’d forgotten she’d put in there. Moving aside the lacy bits of silk and satin, Sarah tried to remember when the last time was that she’d got off. A week? More? She’d definitely gotten off while drifting to sleep, but only with her hand. She still had yet to use the vibrator in her new house.

Well, she thought, palming the length of it, no time like the present, and leaned back, unbuttoning her pants, tugging them down one handed, off her round hips and firm ass.

Sarah hadn’t bothered to find a new waxer here in town so she could see the shock of red hair peeking out the top of her white cotton briefs. Sarah pushed the waist band down, and moved the soft curls to one side, slipping a finger between her lips, past her clit, to her slit where she started slowly swirling the outer edges of her cunt, coaxing herself to get wetter, the brief flirtation with Doug already, she was embarrassed to find, started the job.

While teasing herself, she wriggled out of her pants and underwear, so she could see the muscle definition on her freckled thighs as she clenched them, bucking her hips to meet her fingers. Her ring and the middle fingers were curling up to meet her g-spot, which was hard under her touch, a sure sign that she needed to get off. Gasping as she applied pressure, she could feel the walls of her cunt clench against her. She firmly held her fingers in place, as her thumb, wet with her cum, swirled her clit.

Sarah moved her other hand up to her collar, touching her neck. She always loved it when her lovers kissed her there, firm but gentle bites. She lightly dragged her nails over her collar bone, pushing her flannel shirt aside. She hadn’t bothered to throw a bra on that morning – one of the upsides of having small breasts – so it was easy to find her hard nipples, roll them between thumb and forefinger, twisting and pinching as her soaked fingers rhythmically milked her pussy.

Sarah arched her back in anticipation of the first orgasm hitting her, and in doing so, planted her hand on the ground to anchor her. Her finger tips brushed her vibrator, which she’d completely forgotten about.

“Remember the task at hand, woman!” Chiding herself, Sarah pulled herself off the floor, dropping the flannel on the ground as she did so. She climbed up on the bed, balancing herself so she was on the edge of it, arranging herself just so she was in front of the mirror that hung on the wall.

She was a bit of a voyeur in that way. Seeing her taught muscles tense and release, the lines of her abs involuntarily clenched them in response to her pussy throbbing. She liked to watch as her hands became not her own, stepping outside of herself to see the fingertips trace each curve, dig in and hold on and ride each shudder of pleasure that she gave herself.

Sitting back, she turned her vibrator on and slowly slid it into her soaking wet pussy. Her eyes fluttered, and Sarah bit her lip. She let the clenching of her cunt move the purple cock, freeing her hands to rake her nails over her body.

Lingering on her thighs, her belly, the skin on her breasts. She moved one hand up to her head, reached up and pulled the tie from her hair, releasing her auburn curls. Watched in the mirror as they cascaded down and around her freckled shoulders, the copper tones against her skin, which, normally milky was now flushed red.

She started fucking herself faster, pulling on her hair, tugging her head backwards, exposing her throat that was growling approval to the movements her hands made. She tentatively wrapped her hand around her neck, lightly applying pressure. Fuck, she gasped, surprising herself at how good it felt.

“Fuck me, Doug,” she moaned. Didn’t even know that she was fantasying about him until she said his name, the breathy exploration of the single syllable, made the walls of her pussy hum. She moved her free hand down to her clit and started working it, rubbing it quickly, feeling it slip under her fingers, the sensitive bulb singing under the tips of her fingers as the vibrator moved in and out of her cunt.

Her back arched, and her legs started to lock, looking in the mirror, she saw her lip snarl up, and watched her small tits bounce in time to the fucking she was giving herself. “That’s it, Doug, just like that.” She said to her reflection,

“Fuck me, Doug, destroy my twat. Make me yours, Doug.” She snarled, pulling her hair again, then raking her fingers down her neck and to her nipple where she bit it with her fingers, a sinful twist that was equal parts pain and pleasure.

“I’m your little hungry little cum whore, aren’t I, Doug?” She watched as her juices slipped down the purple vibrator, soaking the quilt on her bed. Spread her legs further, so she could watch the length of the toy get swallowed up by her swollen slit, watch as her chest flushed red, the blush creeping to her face, felt her whole body get güvenilir bahis şirketleri warmer as her skin began to tingle.

“Yes!” Sarah cried, bouncing up and down on her fake dick, “I want it, I want you to fill me up with your big, hot load!”

With that thought, Doug’s profile picture popped into her head. His broad smile, the wavy brown hair. She thought of his face, inches from hers, biting into his shoulder to keep from bursting his ear drum with her groans of agreement.

Sarah’s legs locked up, all the way to her toes, she felt the first orgasm come. Normally that was enough, but today, she disciplined herself to keep her hands right where they were, and despite the sensitive skin protesting beneath her, coached a second and third wave, until she collapsed back on to her bed, sweaty, wet, spent.

And completely satisfied.


A few days later, Sarah loaded six pies – and several quarts of heavy cream – into the backseat of her car. She planned on getting to Doug’s around noon, and was almost there when her phone rang.

It was Doug.


“Hey, Sarah! Happy Thanksgiving! Have you left yet?”

“Yup!” she said, a bit confused, “Is everything alright? I’m just about to pull into your driveway.”

“Oh! Oh, ok. Yeah, I just wasn’t sure if you were still coming or not.”

“I am. I’m almost there.”

“A lot of people ended up cancelling because of the weather.”

It had been snowing for much of the drive, but nothing Sarah couldn’t handle. She had grown up in Michigan, and knew her way around a winter storm.

“Listen, I’m actually here, why don’t we pick this up in a few minutes?”

“Sure, sure, of course! I’ll meet you outside.”

And sure enough, as she pulled down the driveway, there was Doug. Handsome in a pair of dark wash jeans, a green flannel under a puffy vest, and tan work boots. Her heart didn’t flutter when she saw him, but her cunt did.

He waved, pushed his hair out of his face and she smiled as she saw a few waves fall back into his eyes. He had a beard – that was new, and it hid his dimples. But it looked good on him, and in his flannel outfit he looked like a typical lumberjack. As he approached, she could tell he had the muscles to prove it.

“Hi! Glad you made it ok!”

“Is everything ok? You sounded concerned on the phone,” she said, leaning in to receive the kiss on the cheek he was moving to give her.

“Well, I was worried about the California girl in the snow, can you blame me?” Doug reached into the car to help her grab the boxes that carried the pies. “But you’re here now, so let’s get inside! It’s freezing!”

Sarah entered the house first, the blast of warm air welcome on her frozen face. It smelled like wood smoke and sage. She scooted in so Doug could shut the door behind her.

“Feel free to hang your coat on the rack. My sister’s an avid knitter, so there’s a bunch of booties in that basket, help yourself.”

This is so New England, Sara thought, reaching in to find a pair of red woolen slippers that matched the flared pattered skirt she had chosen to wear. She slipped off her leather boots and put the booties on over her black silk stockings.

Sarah reached back for the box containing the pies and Doug waved his hand. “No, no, go into the living room, pointing. “I’ve got these. The fam will meet you and fix you a drink.”

Sarah walked into the living room, thinking she must be super early, since there were only half a dozen people there.

“Nice slippers!” A green eyed woman with a pixie cut said, dimples showing when she smiled. She must be Doug’s sister, and Sarah went to introduce herself.

“Yup! I’m Lila. Dougie refinished all these wood floors himself when he bought the place and I didn’t have the heart to see them get scratched up, so…I make him slippers. Feel free to take those home with you! There’s plenty more where that came from,” she said, indicating a bag with yarn and knitting needles poking out.

“Yeah, that’s my Little Love,” an impressive woman with mahogany skin, a septum ring and silver dreadlocks said, kissing Lila on the lips.

“Always keeping her hands busy,” she said, slipping her hand to rest on Lila’s bum.

“Sarah, this is my fiancée, Elizabeth. You can call her Bets, though, everyone does.”

“Happy to meet you, Sarah. We weren’t sure who all was going to make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sarah said, still feeling like she was missing something.

“Did you leave your bag in the foyer? We can go grab it and show you your room.” Lila asked, looking past Sarah for the bag she hadn’t brought.

“Oh, um, sorry. I’m not staying the night.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Elizabeth, shook her head, and pursed her bright red lips. “Didn’t Doug tell you to bring a bag?”

“No, he didn’t. Just…just the pies. It’s ok, I only live 45 minutes away.”

“Damn it, Doug!” Lila yelled into the hall. “When did you call Sarah? Didn’t I tell you to call her this morning?”

“Well,” Doug said, looking at the clock that had just chirped noon, entering the room with a tray of drinks, “technically it was morning…”

“Shit. He just called you didn’t he?”

“Yup.” Sarah said.

“And you didn’t check the weather before you came, did you?”

“Should…should I have?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Genel içinde yayınlandı

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir