Bent Fiction – Secret Santa by Les Lea
24th December and the dark cold night seemed appropriate. Christmas Eve and again I was on my own, never really taking to the ‘family thing’ over the festive period, although in truth… I did miss the present giving. I can’t quite remember when I’d taken the Scrooge “Bah, Humbug!” route to celebrating Christmas but I usually thought the forced celebrations of a baby born on this day, was a little over the top and totally unnecessary. Having said that, I did miss receiving presents but, well, I’d made my own decisions and there weren’t many coming my way this year. However, I did have one offer I could consider.
Three days ago I received an anonymous Christmas card, one of four that were now decorating my mantelpiece, but the card also held a golden key and a very brief message. “For the Best Christmas Ever be at this address on 24th December at midnight” and the address was in the warehouse district of the city. I assumed it was an invite to a club, possibly a private party and I wondered which of my friends had sent me it. Getting out of the house at this period, and on this particular night, appealed to me but I wanted to know what I was letting myself in for before I went. None of my friends admitted to knowing anything about the card. In fact they were a bit pissed off that they hadn’t received a similar invite. Exclusive… yes… now that did appeal to me but there was suddenly, and for no apparent reason, a nagging doubt and a touch of apprehension about the whole invitation. No one I spoke to knew of this place as a possible clubbing venue, there was nothing on the net. Facebook didn’t help… even my hairdresser, who knew everything and everyone on the gay scene, pleaded ignorance. What he did say was that I’d be a fool to pass up such a “wonderful request” and he’d be there in a flash. Well he would. He is such an outgoing type of guy but I’m not that impetuous.
However, yesterday another card arrived; this one saying how much ‘he’ was looking forward to my attendance. ‘He?’ So I was meeting a guy but who? I tried to cast my mind back over all the partners I’d had over the year (and there had been a few). What about those guys on Gaydar that I’d fancied but who hadn’t fancied me? What about…? It was no good. If I wanted to find out I’d have to go and, as usual, I had no great plans for Christmas Eve so it wouldn’t be a big diversion to my personal ‘festivities’ which usually consisted of a drink, a wank and an early night.
So, here I am. The area seems deserted but I’m now desperate to know what this invite is all about. The golden key opens the door and I let myself in. Appropriately, strings of fairy lights lead me from the buildings entrance through a labyrinth of rooms towards… well I have no idea. I’m listening out for some music or chatter or champagne corks popping but all there is are the lights, and a sign saying, FOLLOW THE LIGHTS. However, I can feel the tension in my body building as the darkness seems to fit my festive gloom. My mouth has gone dry in anticipation. No matter how much I lick my lips they feel as if I had been blasted by a Saharan sandstorm. I’m desperate to remain relaxed and in control but my Dutch courage evaporated the moment I entered the darkened building. Unexpectedly the little twinkling lights peter out as I enter a huge black space that is pleasantly warm.
The chill has left me and I’m now sweating from the sudden heat and the certain knowledge that I am not alone. A single spotlight flashes on and makes a pool of light about 20 feet away from me. I’m intrigued but dare not move. I become aware of movement and stiffen up in apprehension. Am I going to end my life here in this deserted (well almost) warehouse on Christmas Eve? A figure walks into the illuminated spot. He stands and smiles. I don’t know who he is but his fantastic presence seems to glow with both an inner and outer brilliance. He whispers my name and I nod in acknowledgement. His well-oiled, sleek ebony skin shimmers with each breath, while his serene manly face stares back at me, smiling. A single large silver ring pierces his left nipple and a pair of sexy red shiny shorts barely contained his massive knob, which is already pushing its way to freedom down his left thigh. Gleaming white teeth and clear eyes beckoned me forward as I stand transfixed directly in front of him. I can’t believe this superb vision in front of me really exists. He is a dream, a Christmas wish, come true and I melt under his clear gaze. Bringing me back to reality he is taking my hand and pressing it onto his huge throbbing cock; the silky fabric and the warm throbbing behind it instantly makes me hard. “This is yours now…” he says, “…what would you like to do with it?” I fall to my knees and snuggle up close to that colossal bulge, the material stretched to capacity but still gleaming and shiny in the spot light. I look up into his eyes for permission. “Happy Christmas” he says as he strokes my hair and guides my mouth to the object of my desire. “Santa has a sack full of gifts for his favourite boy… let’s try this one first!”
One thought on “Bent Fiction – Secret Santa by Les Lea”
This was rather erotic without being graphic and I enjoyed the way it ended. please keep writing.
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