New Year’s Wood

It had been a year since Francis had a Christmastime encounter with her mystery man…and after all that time, she still couldn’t get him off her mind. When she gets the opportunity to see him again, she not only relives her passion from the year before—she rings in the New Year in the most spectacularly lustful way.

Warning: New Year’s Wood (16,200 words) contains rerun rendezvous, inanimate intimacies, and couch coitus.


The show had barely started before I had my lips softly pressed against Jake’s neck, breathing in his manly smell mixed with cologne.

“Are you trying to take advantage of me, Francis?” he asked jokingly.

“I can stop if you want.”

“I’m not saying that,” he responded right before pressing his mouth against mine. Rather than the sweet kiss we shared earlier, he was more forceful, more passionate, more intent on inhaling me and initiating a tango between our tongues. As we danced our sensual ballet, I listened to the show in the background and my desire continued to rise. I let my hand explore Jake’s face, rubbing my palm against his cheek and feeling the prickly stubble that formed on his face. Then I worked my way down to his chest, and enjoyed the feeling of his well-developed muscles. He mentioned in passing that he was a member of the gym down the street, but I had no idea the results would be so impressive.

I finally reached my ultimate destination between his legs and his tongue became more active in my mouth as soon as my hand rested there. I rubbed his crotch slowly and with each movement of my hand, his kiss became more passionate. When our lips finally parted, I continued rubbing Jake’s crotch, enjoying the feeling of his cock swell underneath his jeans. When I was satisfied with the effect I had on him, I unzipped them and admired his thick hard on poking through the hole in his boxers. As I grabbed his shaft in my hand, Jake kissed my neck and periodically moaned in my ear about how hot he thought I was, how he was enjoying my diligent touch.

“It’s not me,” I laughed. “It’s the show.”

“No,” he whispered. “Trust me, I’ve seen every episode of Kolchak and it has never had this effect on me.”

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