Page 27 of Festive Flings

Owen gives a little chuckle as he kisses me against my temple. “Don’t worry, babe. How about hot chocolate instead, eh?”

“That sounds amazing, actually.” As I look into his eyes, our faces are mere millimetres apart. I want to kiss him so badly.

No, I should rephrase that. I want Owen to kiss me. I want him to take my face into his hands and kiss me deeply and passionately without holding back. However, I don’t know if I would be able to hold back, and we are in the middle of a Christmas market with families and young children going about their business as if the world isn’t changing at a rapid pace right in front of their faces.

I break eye contact but he doesn’t give up, and that turns me on even more.

“What’s up, babe?” he murmurs against my head. His voice sends shivers of need throughout my body.

“I want to kiss you, but there’s too much of an audience.” He places another kiss against my temple and leads me along the path to one of the large Christmas trees that is beautifully decorated in lilacs, whites and silvers and thousands of twinkling lights.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, Jamie.” I melt into his embrace, my body lights up from my centre as Owen pushes my hair back off my face and presses his lips against mine.

He lazily opens his soft lips against mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck allowing his tongue access. It’s a sweet kiss, full of passion and promise.

As he deepens our ardent exchange, my body floods with pent up tension. I want him. I want his body to press against mine and into mine.

I want to see every part of him.

I want to give every part of me to him.

He pulls away from our kiss all too soon, and when I look into his eyes, I can see love and tenderness. I can see the future.

“Come on, babe, we have so much to see, and if I get my way, you’ll not be getting much more sightseeing done. Are you hungry? We have a table booked at restaurant Promenaden in an hour.” Oh wow! I’ve heard about the wonderful restaurant that has a balcony that overlooks the Gardens, allowing you to see the light shows while you eat.

“It sounds amazing. Thank you, Owen. Thank you for doing all this for me.” He kisses me again before I can finish my sentence. This time Owen leaves no doubt in my mind of what he wants. My feminine core is practically burning in wanton desire because I want the same too.

“Shall we have a go on The Flying Trunk before dinner?” The Flying Trunk is a ride dedicated to the fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen. Similar to the ‘It’s a Small World’ ride at Disneyland, or a less sinister ghost train. You travel through the different depictions and displays of thirty-two fairy tales, and the one who can guess the most, wins.

The queue isn’t too long, and after a few minutes, Owen is helping me into the treasure chest cart that will carry us through on our journey. He sits down close to me and casually places his arm around my shoulders again. It's comforting and a little intoxicating being this close to him. I rest my head back on his shoulder, and my body seems to simulate a jigsaw; my body fits completely with Owen’s. He completes me.

The pressure that has been bubbling up inside me all day threatens to spill over. I have Owen’s arms around me, the memory of his kiss on my lips and the rumbling of the cart acts as a stimulant to my aroused, wanting pussy. I hope Owen wants to take things further tonight. I think I'm just going to explode if I don’t get to touch him soon.

To give him a clue what I’m thinking, I tilt my head up and graze my nose against his stubble. Just as I hoped, Owen immediately responds with enthusiasm. He no longer kisses me sweetly. This time, it’s hard and carnal, and I moan in satisfaction. I cannot get enough. We kiss each other into a frenzy. A fire burns between us, and I don’t want to stop it; bring on the inferno and burn me.

As he runs his hand down my body, I am delighted to hear a groan of approval. We are wearing too many clothes, and that annoys me. I need him. I need to see what is hidden beneath his clothes. I want to see the real Owen. The one no one else gets to see, at least not anymore. I want him to be mine.

I slip my hands down his chest, across his hard abdomen and lower, and I manage a teasing touch of his ample cock before pulling my hand away. This is too public.

I thread my fingers through Owen's hair and pull him to me to kiss him one more time. He is cradling my ass in both hands and pulls me to his chest. I land, without any grace, on his lap, and before I decide to respond even more boldly, several flashes go off all around us, startling us both. It’s only when I see the end of the ride that I realise it was the souvenir camera. We have been caught on camera.

Having been caught kissing, I’m glad I didn’t act on my instinct to get his cock out. The shame! And yet the thought of it, me sucking Owen’s cock as the cameras flashed all around, seems to fuel my desire even more. I am seriously close, dangerously close, to surrendering and losing all control. As we head to the souvenir booth, Owen laughs while the man tells him he was unable to display our photos since young children may see.

“We were just kissing. I’ll have every photo please.” He turns to me, his eyes still clouded with passion, and whispers to me, “It’s a good job I didn’t do all the things I wanted to; we’d be buying our porno right now. How hungry are you, babe? Do you want to keep our reservation, or shall we make our way back to the hotel?

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