Monsters Under Mistletoe

4. Shawna

Chapter 4

Shawna

I 'm on horny cloud nine for the rest of my shift. It's like floating through wet panties heaven until I drive home at the end of my shift. The words keep repeating in my head. So beautiful, Shawna, baby. Brody was masturbating in the shower and thinking about me.

The only reason I went into the men’s locker room after he bailed was to make sure he was okay. He was in such a rush to get going and then it was taking him a long time, I wanted to check on him. Nobody else was in the locker room and really I didn’t see anything.

Just a steamy, hairy, muscle-y back that I want to lick.

He said my name and that brought me out of my stupor enough to realise he was totally fine and I bolted.

I beat my head against the steering wheel of my car. Why didn’t I just ask him out on a real date like a normal being? Instead all I could muster during our obviously orchestrated workout set, was to ask if he was coming to the gym holiday party. I should really sit down with Bash and Kal to set them straight. I’m not going to ask a gym patron out.

But if he asks me out? Well, I’ll shout at the top of my lungs and beat my chest in triumph.

Brody hasn’t asked though, and I don’t know why. Our age difference is a bit big, but I’m 34. I rent my own place, albeit it’s the basement apartment in my grandparent’s house. My car is nearly paid off and still runs great because I take great care of it. I’ve definitely lived my life enough to know who or what I want. And Brody is who I want, more than any other person in the whole world.

A knock on my windshield makes me scream, but then I hear the raucous laughter of my grandma. I climb out of my compact a little awkwardly once she steps back, still chuckling to herself. She’s still wearing her solstice sweater and crown from yesterday, but has swapped her dinner pants for a pair of stretch leggings and furry boots.

“Hoo, I needed that,” she says. “Gramps is still hungover and I’ve been trying not to laugh at how pathetic he’s acting.”

Not all monsters celebrate Christmas, or any holiday at this time of the year. We mostly use the human Christmas as an excuse to indulge in candy, rich food, and gift giving. But orcs, goblins, and elves all have a big ole Winter Solstice celebration on the 21st that mostly involves gorging ourselves on food and drink. Since I had to work this morning, I limited myself to only one tankard of Grams’ homemade mead, but I heard the party raging until my alarm went off at 3:30 this morning.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, cocking my hip a little. I’m horny and freezing, but if she needs me to do something for her, I’ll do it.

“I’m just getting the mail.” she waves a hand to the end of our cleared drive. “Everyone else has gone home b-t-w.”

Since discovering text messaging, Grams has started using it in her every day speech. I try not to cringe because I appreciate her trying to keep up with technology and stuff. But it’s still weird. I wait for her to wander down to the mailbox, her hulking frame a little more hunched than I remember it being.

“Keep telling ya to wear a jacket,” she tsks.

“How did you know gramps was your one?” I ask.

Grams gives me a look, but says, “When we were kids, he pushed a kid over who was bullying me. I didn’t feel it in my heart until high school when we kissed for the first time. Why?”

“Just wondering,” I grumble as we head back to the house together. I don’t want to reveal my thoughts about Brody too soon. What if he isn’t the one?

We stop at the porch, the main house up a few stairs and my apartment down several more.

“Shaw’nacata,” she says my full name and immediately I stand up a little straighter. “Everything happens in its own time. Some love stories start a little slower.”

At the mention of love stories, Gramps opens the front door. He’s a crotchety old elf with long silver hair that Grams braids every day and the bushiest eyebrows he refuses to trim. He grunts at me, his pale purple skin a little more muted with his hangover. I stick my tongue out at him in response and Grams waves me downstairs. Gramps eyes sparkle when he takes hold of her hand though and I hope that will be me and Brody one day.

Rather than spend my shower being horny like I originally planned, I now spend it daydreaming about being old and cute with Brody. It warms my heart and gives me butterflies thinking about spending our mornings at some senior water aerobics. We’d be one of those cute couples with matching swimming costumes. Afterwards we’d get a little frisky in the sauna when nobody was around.

Okay, maybe my daydreams are still a little more heated.

I wrap my towel around me, set on a two part mission. Part one is simple enough, I put on my favourite audio erotica. It’s one I’ve listened to a hundred times by now because even though the guy sounds nothing like my Brody, it takes place after a hard workout. It’s a slow build, a little flirting at the start while I get my toy and towel ready.

“Gods, your glutes are tight,” he says. “Let me help you loosen up.”

I always snort a little at the line, but it’s the turning point in this audio so I quickly rearrange my pillows so I can be ass up, face down with my hips and back supported. Like a sexier version of yoga, I get a little stretch, with one arm between my legs and the other folded in front of me to rest my head on. Mostly, I like this position because I can close my eyes and picture it’s Brody behind me.

His hands would roam and massage my low back before he’d move to my butt, just like the audio describes. I bite my lip when audio starts talking about how pretty my little pussy is. Being called pretty and little and all those other feminine words isn’t something I’m used to. I’ve asked previous partners to do it, and their response is half assed at best. Brody would say it with his whole chest.

I hope.

“Look how swollen and dripping you are, sweetheart. Just begging for release,” the narrator moans, but I hear it in Brody’s voice. I can imagine it’s him sliding his fingers through my pussy lips instead of the tentacle attachment for my wand. “Look at how easily I can fit my finger inside you.”

On cue, I rotate my grip so the tip of silicone presses inside me. The tentacle is ultra soft and my body gives so sweetly to the teasing. I know humans don’t have tentacles, but this is my fantasy and in it Brody is the king of sex toys. The audio starts to fade out as my own narrative takes over. The tentacle slides all the way in, stimulating every little part of me without too much stretch.

“I could watch this all day,” Imaginary Brody hums. “Such a desperate little pussy, what would happen if I turn this on?”

While in my head it’s a question, in reality I’m already flicking the switch on my vibrator because gods do I want to come. My pussy clenches as the intense pleasure starts rattling through me. I open my mouth, panting as my hips start to move. I don’t want to move the wand, but I also want more stimulation for the tentacle. My fingers grip harder around the plastic as I grind against the raised bumps on the attachment. Arousal leaks down my thighs with how much I need to come.

“Brody,” I moan, gripping my sheet.

If he could see me now, would he take control of the toy? Would he tease me more or let me come?

“So beautiful, Shawna, baby.”

His words from earlier repeat in my head over and over as my muscles draw in tighter. My hand cramps with how tightly I'm holding the wand in place, but then my world shatters. My pussy gushes around the toy before it locks into place, pulsing rhythmically.

My head swims with endorphins as the vibrator pushes me into overstimulation. I fumble to flip it off before I relax my hand. It will be a few minutes until my pussy lets go of the toy, trying to tease the non-existent cum out of the tentacle.

I can imagine being locked to my true mate, sweaty and blissfully exhausted. Our bodies joined, even for a little while. It would be so intimate, so perfect.

Has Brody ever been locked before?