Page 15 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

I’m still sitting. With his height and my position, his cock is about eye-level with me and, holy shit, it’s perfect.

Ruprecht’s linen pants are bunched up around his muscular thighs, but with more of him on display than before, I see why his pants are made of a loose linen material. They managed to cover the patches of fur that decorate his hips while also giving that trouser snake of his some room to move.

I don’t know what he looks like soft since he’s already completely hard, but his erection is a good eight inches from root to tip. On the cusp of more than I can comfortably take, but not quite there yet. I was worried that, with his height and bulk, he’d be packing ten inches at least, and I’m so glad he isn’t.

And if I shouldn’t be mentally fitting Krampus’s dick inside of me as he goes back to stroking himself off? Oh, well. A girl can dream, and it’s not like—after Christmas—I’m ever going to see him again. This could just be a one-night-stand to remember. One to take to my grave, too.

Can you imagine? Coming back from my Christmas ‘vacation’ and telling Ang that I fucked a Christmas demon? Yeah, right. Even if Ruprecht isn’t interested in doing that, I’m watching him work his cock expertly—and I won’t be able to confess to this, either.

It’s a naughty little secret for the both of us.

I’m not really sure what he meant before when he said that I’m the reason his body reacts. That it’s the first time it has. My initial instinct was that he was confession to never having gotten hard before. I just… that can’t be the case. Unless he was up and outside in the snow every ten minutes to rub one out while I was sleeping, blissfully unaware of what he was doing, he seems to know exactly how to handle his cock.

He’s panting softly, muttering in that Germanic language again as he plants his hooves on the floor of his kitchen. Spreading his legs just enough to get purchase, I see another benefit to the linen. It allows him to position himself wider, giving a front row seat to him stroking, twisting, and tugging on his cock.

He has no pubic hair; no fur there, either. There is nothing to stop me from watching as his sac tightens, his cock turned red as all the blood rushes to the head before he throws back his head and, with a roar, shoots a load of creamy, milky jizz onto his hand and the floor at my feet.

The big demon shudders until he’s released every last drop. I’m not so surprised that he produces a lot more semen than a human guy, or that it’s thicker and more substantive. But when a familiar scent reaches me almost immediately, and it isn’t salty, musky spunk, I cock my head.

Taking a deep sniff, I’m almost positive I know what that smell is. But I can’t stop myself from asking, “Is that peppermint?”

Ruprecht’s gold eyes—gleaming so brightly a moment ago—seem to darken just a little. “Sometimes the tethers get crossed. Since I met you, everything comes out like peppermint.”

Okay. I’m only human. I’d only just been able to keep from drooling at the thought of dabbing my tongue along the thick vein in his cock while he was touching himself. But for him to tell me that his jizz is peppermint?

“Can I try?”

His eyes flare up, brightening the hollows of his face. “You want to?”

Yes. “I nod.”

He offers me his hand. “You can take it from here, if you like.”

Never in a million years would I ever expect to be licking come from any guy’s hand. But a Christmas demon? I almost agree.

The only reason I don’t? Is because I’d much prefer it from the source.

So I shake my head. “No. Not like that.”

Ruprecht frowns.

Oh, jeez. It’s almost a little embarrassing, how desperate I am, but I’ve never been the type of chick who shies away from what she wants.

And right now? I want him.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d rather taste it from the source.”

As if responding to my offer, his cock twitches. And though it was limp after he was spent barely a couple of minutes ago, that sucker starts to harden right before my eyes. In no time, his cock is pointing straight toward the thatched ceiling, ready and raring to go again.

You know what? If that’s how fast his refractory period is, he really might have gone out to jerk off at least ten times last night…

However, instead of moving toward me eagerly like some other guys would have, feeding their cocks between my lips so I can begin to suck, Ruprecht gestures toward the table. As if on cue, the tea in my mug starts steaming again.

More magic, I’m guessing, and a fresh cup of truth serum.

“Have some more tea, liebling,” he rumbles.

The tea will tell him the truth. I might as well, otherwise the big demon will doubt how much I really want to get a taste.

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