The Christmas Exhibition Read Online Free

in my hand, baby.”
                  “What-”
                  “Tell me you love it. Please , Matt, try to enjoy it.”
                  “I can't-”
                  “Embrace your fears, Matt,” she interrupted, rampantly railing her hand on my member. “Ignore your instincts. Trust your desires. Feel your cock throbbing in my hand. Release yourself to your primal urges and give in...”
                  Distress signals in my abdomen found and fought distraught, anxious aches in my chest.
                  “... Give in to my debauchery.” Jill's free hand grabbed suddenly on my testicles. “Trust your balls in my hand. Feel them wanting to hear what happened at the dinner... What I got up to... What I did behind your back.”
                  An unforeseen surge of arousal detonated in my groin. My hips bucked involuntarily. My penis found its pinnacle in Jill's palm, ramming violently into her touch.
                  “Woah there, Mister!” Jill cried, painfully vanquishing my onslaught with an immediate release of my cock.
                  Wind whispered through snowflakes and rattled the walls of the house.
                  I grabbed my cock in my own hand and wanked furiously before her.
                  Jill swiped at my hands. “No, baby, wait... Wait!”
                  I let go.
                  My cock stood on its end before us.
                  My testicles performed a thunderous pulsation.
                  “Take it easy, Matt,” she said, and carefully placed her fingers on the underside of my cock, rubbing a vein which led to my balls. “I want you to relax and last the distance.”
                  I regulated my breathing and pulled her hand around my member once more. “I can last, Jill. Please, don't stop wanking me. I need it.”
                  “You need it, baby?”
                  I nodded.
                  She laughed. “May I continue my story?”
                  Every inherent thought in my mind and grapple of nerves in my body dictated that she should not be allowed to continue. That promiscuity, however small, should be discouraged. Derided. And punished. “And if I choose to, Jill, I can beat your beautiful ass with my belt?”
                  Jill physically shivered before me. Her breathing was temporarily ragged. But her eyes were sparkling. “Yes, baby. You can take your belt to me. You can beat me for being a naughty girl.”
                  I sighed. I was instinctively uncertain.
                  Jill reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, allowing it to fall to the floor and revealing her stunning, pert breasts. Her nipples protruded with prominence.
                  “I want to suck them, Jill.”
                  She smiled. “Later, baby.” She jerked my cock harder again. “But I have to tell you what happened after the dinner.”
                  “Oh God,” I muttered, torn between exasperation, curiosity and anxiety.
                  “The boss must've been encouraged...”
                  I jolted forward. “Did he touch you?” I demanded.
                  Jill shook her head vigorously, then slacked her wank to steady her back against the coffee table. “Woah,” she whined. “I'm really drunk.”
                  I wondered if she would bury her secret when she sobered up. “Go on, tell me what happened.” I pulled her hand around my member and encouraged her to resume her pace.
                  “He just kept sending down more wine. The workers were laughing and watching us, telling us to get drunk and get our tits out for the lads.”
                  I shuddered at the