His Candy Cane: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (Sweet Treats Book 1)

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ABOUT THIS BOOK

My growly, gorgeous personal trainer gave me
equipment to work with that was long, thick,
heavy, and hard.

I’ve been teased about my large size since I was a
kid.

So this Christmas season, I decide to take matters
into my own hands.

The gym has always been my personal hell, but not
anymore because I’ve hired a professional trainer.

What I didn’t expect is for my trainer to be so …
huge.

Patrick Walker has muscles that go on for days, a
six pack that bulges, and a glint in his eyes that says
come and get your bad boy.

Plus, he keeps giving it to me non-stop.

The sit-ups, push-ups and pull-ups are killing me.

I strain and stretch, hoping to rid myself of my
curves by December 25.

But what if my gorgeous trainer says he likes my
hills and valleys?

What if he says I look ripe and plush and ready for
a candy cane because of them?

Will we do the taboo? Or will my trainer’s candy
cane go uneaten?

Curvy girls unite! Maisie learns to love her curves
in  this  fun-filled  tale  of  slick  sweat,  Christmas
ornaments,  and  candy  canes.  Don’t  worry  –  she
doesn’t lose her curves and instead, learns to love
them  with  the  help  of  OTT  alpha  male  Patrick
Walker,  and  his  hard,  sweaty  workouts.  Even
better – Patrick gives her a bouncing baby by the

MAISIE

y mom strides into the kitchen with her
hands behind her back.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask, instantly

suspicious.  Today’s  my  birthday  and  I’m  turning
twenty-five.  It’s  a  little  bit  disheartening,  to  be
honest,  because  in  my  twenty-five  years  I  haven’t
accomplished  much.  I  have  my  job  as  an  assistant
at  a  vet’s  office,  but  it  doesn’t  pay  very  well,  so  I
still live at home. I  also  have  my  beat-up  old  Jetta
circa  1999  that  has  over  two  hundred  thousand
miles  on  it.  Even  if  it’s  ancient,  at  least  it’s  mine,
and it still runs just fine.

But now, I eye my mom as she walks over with

a big smile on her face.

“Daddy and I got you something special for

your birthday,” she says a little too brightly.

I stare at her.

“But why don’t you give it to me tonight, when

Aunt Mildred and Uncle Bertrand are here? I
thought we were going to have dinner together for
my birthday, with a cake and candles too.”

My mom nods.
“Yes, but this is a very special gift, so Daddy

and I wanted to give it to you beforehand, without
anyone else to see.”

Uh oh. I brace myself for something bad.
“You don’t even want to wait for Dad to come

home?” I ask weakly. “I’m sure he’d like to
participate.”

Lorraine shakes her head.
“Nope, Daddy and I talked about it, and we

want to give this gift now because it’s a special
present from us to you.”

Uh oh. Those words bring up bad memories. It

reminds me of the time my mom got me a Harvard
sweatshirt  for  my  tenth  birthday.  I  loved  the
maroon color with the Lux et Veritas motto on the
front,  but  I  couldn’t  help  but  feel  terrible  because
even back then, I knew I wasn’t going to Harvard.
I’m  not  an  Ivy  League  type  of  girl,  and  sure
enough,  after  high  school,  I  enrolled  in  a  two-year
program at my local community college. It worked
out  fine  because  I  got  an  Associate’s  degree  in
Veterinary  Science,  and  got  hired  as  a  vet  tech
almost immediately after graduation.

But I feel bad letting down my parents. They’ve

always  wanted  me  to  do  something  magnificent
with my life, like re-invent the Internet or fly to the
moon. The problem is that my dreams are small by
comparison,  and  Lorraine  and  Henry  don’t  realize
that I’m happy the way I am. Maybe I’m not going
to be an international super model or a Nobel-prize
winning  scientist,  but  at  least  I  contribute  to  the
world.  The  sick  and  injured  animals  that  come  to
my workplace need my help, and I’m always happy
to lend a gentle touch and a loving hand.

Unfortunately, my parents don’t exactly see it

that way.

“You’re twenty-five, and you have a degree,”

my dad said just the other day. “You should be able
to buy yourself a new car at least. Your old
clunker’s not looking so good.”

I took a deep breath.
“I know, Dad, but that’s the thing. I want to

save  money  and  maybe  donate  some  funds  to  our
local  animal  shelter  once  I  amass  enough.  My  car
works  just  fine,  and  besides,  I  like  the  rust  orange
color  of  my  Jetta.  It’s  cute,  and  you  can’t  see  the
scratches because of the color.”

My mom shook her head, her eyes puzzled and

sad.

“But Maisie, we want more for you. We want

you  to  go  out  and  explore,  and  to  see  the  world.
Every  day,  you  go  to  work,  come  home  to  eat
dinner,  and  then  go  to  bed  before  repeating  the

cycle all over again the next day. Why? For what?
You have so much to offer, and you’re not meeting
your maximum potential.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, sticking my

chin out. That’s  the  kind  of  phrase  my  parents  are
always using: maximum potential. Being a dreamer.
Reaching for the stars. It really gets under my skin
because  pop  psychology  doesn’t  work.  I  swear,
Lorraine  and  Henry  read  books  of  affirmations
non-stop,  and  listen  to  recordings  of  motivational
speakers  all  the  time.  I  want  to  shake  them  until
their teeth rattle while screaming, “It’s bullshit! My
dreams  are  small  dreams,  and  I’m  happy  with  that
okay? Why can’t you be happy for me too?”

But my parents will never be satisfied. They’re

still wondering what they did wrong in bringing up
a  daughter  with  quote-unquote  “no  ambition.”
That’s part of the reason I’m afraid of the gift that
Lorraine  has  behind  her  back.  I’m  sure  it’s
something  like  a  daily  journal  so  that  I  can  begin
memorializing  my  loftiest  goals,  or  some  kind  of
guided video with the latest guru so that I can start
plotting how to take over the world.

Lorraine’s now standing before me at the

kitchen

table,

practically

quivering

with

excitement.

“Okay Mom,” I say tiredly. “Let’s have it.”
She frowns for a moment.
“You know, Maisie, you could be a little more

grateful. Your dad and I thought long and hard
about what would make for a meaningful birthday
gift, and I think you’ll really enjoy this one.”

“You mean, like the time you signed me up for

Astronaut Camp one summer, and how much I
appreciated that?”

Lorraine frowns at the memory because when I

was  twelve,  my  parents  thought  enrolling  me  in
NASA’s  Space  Camp  would  be  beneficial.
Hopefully  it  would  “expand  my  horizons”  and  I’d
become

junior

astronaut

training.

Unfortunately, not only were the math and science
classes  way  over  my  head,  but  the  so-called  pilot
simulations  made  me  sick.  For  a  week  straight,  I
came  home  with  vomit  on  my  clothes.  The
experience  was  ugly,  smelly,  and  completely
revolting in every way.

So I fix my mom with an exasperated look.
“Okay, let’s have it,” I say. “What is it?”
My mom’s expression brightens and her blonde

bob bounces up and down as she pulls her hands
out from behind her back.

“Ta-da!” she sings. “Here you go!”
I stare at the laminated plastic card in her palm,

squinting.

“Mr. P’s CrossFit? What is that?”
She laughs joyously, her eyes dancing with

enthusiasm.

“Haven’t you heard of CrossFit sweetheart? It’s

the newest exercise routine. Evidently, there’s a
real focus on strength training and muscle building,
and Daddy and I think you’ll really like it.”

I stare at my mom.
“But I hate working out.”
Lorraine rolls her eyes and blows air from her

nose in exasperation.

“Yes, I know, sweetheart, which is exactly why

we  got  you  this  gift  for  your  birthday.  This  will
inspire you to exercise more because we signed you
up  for  one  on  one  training  session  with  Mr.  P
himself.  You’re  going  to  work  with  a  personal
trainer once a week for the next couple months so
that you come out a lean, mean, sexy machine.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Is this about my weight again? I swear, Mom,

haven’t you and Dad given up on that by now?
Especially after sending me to chubby camp?”

I’m referring to the summer when I was fifteen,

and my parents shipped me off to a campground in
Maine  where  I  was  supposed  to  lose  thirty  pounds
in  two  months.  I  hated  it.  All  we  did  was  exercise
for  six  hours  a  day,  and  I  got  so  hungry  that  I  ate
like  a  crazed  woman  at  every  meal.  Instead  of
losing  thirty  pounds,  I  put  on  fifteen,  much  to
Lorraine  and  Henry’s  dismay.  I  think  they  might
even  have  asked  for  their  money  back.  But  in  my
opinion, it was just another ill-fated attempt by my
parents  to  push  my  life  in  a  direction  in  an

inadvisable way.

When will they understand that I’m a twenty-

five  year-old  woman  who  doesn’t  need  their
guidance  anymore?  When  will  they  give  up  trying
to turn me into someone I’m not? After all, I’m fine
financially,  and  I’m  happy  with  my  job,  my  social
life,  and  my  little  Jetta.  I  suppose  since  I  live  at
home,  my  parents  think  that  they  still  get  a  say  in
my life, which I guess they do to some extent. But
still,  their  nosiness  and  attempts  to  help  are  so
annoying.

I stare at Lorraine.
“Mom, CrossFit is for insane people, haven’t

you heard? The women come out of it looking like
muscleheads. It’s okay for guys to get really
pumped and huge, but do you want me looking like
a female bodybuilder by the end?”

Lorraine giggles, her blonde bob bouncing.
“Of course not, honey. It’s just that your father

and I want you to stand on your own two feet, and
we thought CrossFit would help you get there.”

“But how?” I ask with puzzlement. “CrossFit

will help me get in shape, but it’s not going to help
me become more of an adult, if that’s what you’re
looking for.”

My mom sighs, easing herself into the chair

across from me. Lorraine has always been slim, and
she’s probably at least forty pounds less than me.
To her credit, she doesn’t compare our body types

because I take after my dad, with his round, stocky
frame.

“Well, Maisie, your father and I want what’s

best for you, and you’re still living at home. You’re
twenty-five  now,  and  it’s  clear  that  your  job  as  a
vet  tech  is  never  going  to  pay  enough  so  that  you
can  afford  to  move  out  on  your  own.  As  a  result,
we want you to slim down a bit so that you can find
the right man. Maybe you’ll hit it off, and you’ll be
able  to  move  in  with  him,  get  married,  and  have  a
family.”

I hold up a hand, palm out.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mom. You’re going at

lightspeed here. Who said anything about having a
family?”

My mom merely sighs.
“It’s not about grandbabies per se. It’s just …

well, have you seen that movie Failure to Launch,
honey?”

I stare at her.
“You

mean

the

one

where

Matthew

McConaughey plays an adult man who still lives
with his parents?”

My mom smiles and brightens.
“Yes, that one!” she nods. “I’m just saying that

Daddy and I don’t want you to be like the Matthew
McConaughey character. We want to get you out
there and do something with yourself. The world is
your oyster!”

I stare at her.
“Mom, this sounds like a thinly-veiled attempt

to kick me out of the house.”

Lorraine shrugs.
“Would that be so bad, Maisie? Finding the love

of your life and moving in with a nice man is a
natural progression for a young woman, and your
dad and I want you to have these experiences. It’s
not that bad, Maisie. I did it. You’re just stuck in a
rut right now, and going to boot camp will help push
you out of that stuck space.”

My mom’s reasoning makes my head spin, and

this conversation is beginning to sound scarily like
her pep talks for Astronaut School and Fat Camp.

“Mom, I’ve never done well at the things you

sign me up for. I always do best at the things I
choose for myself, like vet school.”

My mom makes a pshaw noise with her mouth.
“Maisie, the vet tech thing is fine, don’t get me

wrong. But you make … what, thirty thousand a
year? Forty thousand?”

“Twenty-five,” I say in a tight voice.
“Exactly!”

Lorraine

says

triumphantly.

“Twenty-five  thousand  is  a  pittance,  and  you’ll
never be able to afford your own apartment unless
you  earn  more.  Unfortunately,  the  career
progression for a vet tech doesn’t seem to be very
promising, so Daddy and I figured helping you find
a  guy  would  make  more  sense.  Maybe  with  your

combined incomes, you can find an apartment
together!” she sings brightly.

I stare at her again.
“Mom, seriously. Are you trying to get rid of

me?”

Immediately, Lorraine’s expression grows

innocent.

“Of course not, honey. Daddy and I love having

you live with us, but enough is enough, don’t you
think? Don’t you want to have your own space?
Privacy is a luxury in this economy.”

The truth is that of course, I’d love to have an

apartment to call my own. Imagine that: getting up
in the morning without having to share a breakfast
table with my parents. I could even adopt a rabbit,
a cat, and a dog, which I’ve been longing to do for
ages. My dad is allergic to any kind of animal fur,
so we only have our one bird, Cookie, who’s addled
in the brain if you ask me.

I fix my mother with a look.
“Of course I’d love to move out, but isn’t this a

roundabout way of doing it? You think that by
slimming down, I’ll meet someone, fall madly in
love and then find my own apartment?”

My mom nods.
“Yes, precisely,” she says with satisfaction. “It

all  starts  with  you  getting  healthy,  Maisie.  You’re
too  big  the  way  you  are,  and  too  many  boys  are
taking  a  pass  at  dating  a  bigger  girl.  Don’t  get  me

wrong,  honey,”  she  says  quickly.  “Your  dad  and  I
think you look fine, but CrossFit is just the thing to
shock your system. We did some research, and it’s
a  difficult  routine,  but  don’t  worry:  working  one-
on-one  with  Mr.  P  is  going  to  make  it  bearable.
He’ll  whip  you  into  shape  in  no  time,  and  soon
you’ll have a dozen men asking for your hand.”

I merely shake my head because it’s useless to

argue at this point. My parents have been trying to
slim  me  down  now  for  over  a  decade,  but  to  no
avail. Fat Camp didn’t do it, nor did the diet shakes
nor  Weight  Watchers.  I  think  they  wanted  me  to
enlist in the Army after graduation in the hopes that
Basic  Training  would  help  me  shed  some  pounds,
but I put my foot down there. I wasn’t going to risk
the  chance  of  going  off  to  war  just  to  lose  some
weight.  No  thank  you  to  bullets  and  missiles,
although  I  highly  appreciate  the  dedicated  service
of our vets.

But there’s no way to get my point across to my

parents. They’ve been this way for as long as I can
remember, and the rah-rah aspect of their
personalities is annoying but also well-meaning. As
a result, I merely take the membership card from
my mom and smile weakly at her.

“Thanks. When does the personal training

start?”

“Tomorrow is your first session,” Lorraine says

happily while folding her hands. “Mr. P is expecting

you after work at 6 p.m. I already told him that you
work until five every day, so he was willing to tack
on some after-hours to see you personally.”

I smile sourly.
“Great. So I’m already indebted to him before

we even begin.”

“No, of course not!” my mom scolds. “Put on a

happy  face,  Maisie,  because  a  bad  attitude  isn’t
going  to  get  you  off  on  a  good  foot.  Work  hard,
smile, and soon those pounds will come sliding off
just  like  melting  ice.  You’ll  be  a  new  woman,  and
before soon, you’ll be married and buying a starter
house with your new husband.”

Again, my mom is way ahead of herself, but I

figure it’s easier just to nod and smile.

“Okay,” I say, flipping the card over to

scrutinize the fine print. “I see the gym is
downtown. That’s great. It looks like it’s only three
blocks from where I work, in fact.”

“Mm-hmm!” Lorraine prattles happily. “Like I

said,  your  dad  and  I  did  a  lot  of  research  already,
sweetheart. We don’t want you to have any reason
to  quit,  so  the  timing  and  location  should  be
perfect.  You’re  going  to  have  a  great  time,  and
come  out  refreshed,  renewed,  and  revitalized.
Those are the three R’s to any successful life.”

I smile again, trying not to cringe. The go get

‘em motivational cheers that Lorraine and Henry
employ are really unneeded, but it’s fine. They’ve

already  paid  for  a  few  months  of  personal  training
sessions,  so  why  not  use  them?  Maybe  by
Christmas,  I’ll  have  shed  a  few  pounds  although  I
highly  doubt  I’ll  be  a  “new  woman”  as  my  mom
proclaims. With one last smile, I tuck the card into
my pocket.

“Thanks Mom,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
She leans forward and gives me a peck on the

cheek.

“Your dad and I love you, Maisie. Knock ‘em

dead, tiger!”

Cringing internally, I smile again while

reminding  myself  that  my  parents  were  born  this
way,  and  just  as  they  can’t  change  me,  I  can’t
change them. But  I  can  still  feel  the  hard  edges  of
the membership card poking at my skin through the
stiff denim of my jeans. What is this Mr. P going to
be like? Is he merely a Mr. T, but with a P instead
of a T? Will he have a mohawk, chains, and a cut-
off denim vest? I’m not looking forward to personal
training,  but  who  knows?  There’s  a  first  time  for
everything, and maybe it won’t be so bad.

“L

MAISIE

ionel,  I’m  leaving!”  I  call  from  the
front  door  of  the  vet’s  office.  “Can
you  lock  up  and  shut  off  the  lights

when you leave tonight?”

Lionel’s pasty face pops out from around the

corner and he gives me a thumbs up.

“Sure thing, Maisie,” he lisps. “Will do.”
Despite his gross appearance, I have to

appreciate  Lionel  as  a  co-worker  because  our
duties  are  split  pretty  well:  I  handle  the  cute,  fun,
and  furry  animals,  whereas  Lionel  handles  the
reptiles and amphibians. I  don’t  love  working  with
lizards,  geckos,  and  the  like  because  their  eyes
bulge and their skin is clammy. Give me a puppy or
a  kitten  any  day,  and  I  wouldn’t  trade  the  little
critter for a barrelful of fish.

Plus, Lionel is responsible, which I can

appreciate. Before he started, we had a girl named
Mylie,  who  was  annoying  for  two  reasons:  one,
because everyone got our names mixed up, despite
the fact that she’s about five inches taller and fifty
pounds  less  than  me.  Second,  because  Mylie  was
flaky.  More  than  once,  she  left  the  gecko  cages
open,  only  to  find  them  all  gone  in  the  morning.
There’s  no  way  to  catch  those  slick  reptiles  once
they’ve  escaped.  They  disappeared  into  the  air
vents or the sink holes, and that was that. Sayonara.

But now, the day’s over and I’m on my way to

CrossFit  with  Mr.  P.  I’m  not  looking  forward  to  it,
so  I  trudge  slowly  down  the  sidewalks  of
Morningdale,  despite  the  fact  that  I  should  be
speedwalking  in  order  to  get  there  on  time.  I
purposefully  hung  out  later  at  my  workplace  in
order  to  put  off  the  inevitable,  but  unfortunately,
there’s  only  so  long  a  woman  can  stall.  I’m
probably  about  to  get  the  living  daylights  beat  out
of  me  through  a  series  of  hard-core  exercises,  all
the while pouring sweat and looking gross. Ugh.

Plus, today I watched a couple of CrossFit

videos  on  my  phone  at  work  and  it  was  terrifying.
One  guy  grabbed  hold  of  an  iron  bar  and  began
doing pull-ups like he couldn’t get enough of them.
It  was  literally  up-down-up-down  so  fast  that  I
could hardly breathe. Then, he let go of the pull-up
bar and immediately launched into fifty push-ups at
lightspeed, before bouncing to his feet and running

three laps just for fun.

Who does that? Why would anyone subject

themselves to this kind of punishment? If I were
doing a workout like that, I would undoubtedly
vomit from the exertion, and then keel over, dead-
tired. I can’t even do one pull-up now, much less a
series of them, so what’s the point in even trying?

But I have to go through this because my

parents  have  already  pre-paid  for  the  personal
training  sessions,  and  there’s  no  point  in  wasting
their  money.  Besides,  it’s  a  well-meaning  birthday
gift, so I might as well make the most of it.

Ah-ha. Here it is. I slow to a stop in front of a

door with a small sign on it that says “Mr. P’s
CrossFit.” Ugh. Slowly, I push it open, revealing a
small, empty reception area.

“Hello?” I call, stepping into the space. “Is

anyone here?”

There’s no sound, which is odd because I

expected to see a gym filled with lugheads grunting
and straining. Instead, all I can see is a reception
desk and some lockers over on the left. Everyone
must be in the back, although it’s still eerily silent.

“Hello?” I call again, nervously jiggling my bag

on my shoulder. “I have a personal training session
at six p.m. Is anyone here?”

With that, muffled footsteps sound and a huge

man appears from behind the wall. I gasp because
he’s absolutely gorgeous. He has to be at least six

foot  four,  with  thick  chestnut  hair  brushed  off  his
forehead, and blue eyes that remind me of a sunny
day  sparkling  off  the  Caribbean  seas.  He’s  also
perfectly  toned  and  fit:  broad  shoulders  emphasize
the width of his chest, and he’s wearing a muscle-T
that shows off a rock-hard stomach. Not only that,
but as my eyes drift lower, I let out an involuntary
gasp because there’s that. Ohmygod ohmygod. Mr.
P has a giant candy cane inside his gym shorts, and
judging from his cocky grin, it’s all for me.

PATRICK

he girl waiting for me at the entrance to my
gym is not what I expected. When her
mother called, she made her daughter

sound like a misshapen pile of Play-Doh that
needed a firm hand.

“My daughter … well, she’s big,” Lorraine

Handle told me. “You’ll need to put her through
your most rigorous exercises.”

“That’s fine,” I said smoothly into the phone.

“CrossFit is a challenge for most people, and even
elite athletes have trouble with the regimen on
occasion. I’m sure I can find something that will be
right for your daughter.”

“Don’t just challenge her,” Lorraine insisted.

“Make her work. Maisie has a lot of weight to lose,
and her father and I are at a loss. We need this
because how is she going to meet someone

otherwise? You’re our last option, Mr. P. We’re
depending on you.”

I bit my tongue because there are a lot of

gorgeous  larger  women  out  there,  as  well  as  men
who  appreciate  ladies  with  curves.  Myself,  for
example.  I  love  women  who  have  some  extra
pounds  on  their  frame,  and  actually  prefer  junk  in
the trunk to skinny minnies who are always dieting.

But as a result of Mrs. Handle’s words, I was

expecting someone morbidly obese to step through
the  door.  Perhaps  she  would  be  three  hundred
pounds  and  lumber  from  side  to  side,  huffing  and
puffing  from  the  stairs  that  lead  to  our  front  door.
After  all,  it  happens  sometimes.  A  patient  gets  a
warning  from  their  doctor  that  they’re  a  candidate
for  gastric  bypass  surgery  unless  they  lose  weight,
and  they  begin  dialing  all  the  gyms  in  the
neighborhood  in  a  panic.  More  than  a  few  have
showed  up  on  my  doorstep,  hoping  to  turn  their
lives  around,  and  I’m  happy  to  lend  my  expertise.
But obviously, I can’t start at level ten with clients
in  that  state.  Instead,  I  tailor  a  regimen  for  my
trainees  that  fits  their  body  type,  energy
requirements,  nutritional  habits,  and  fitness  goals.
It’s  the  only  way  to  be  healthy  for  any  human
being, and not just the ones looking to slim down.

But the woman before me is no giant white

whale. Yes, she’s curvy, but in a good way. She has
large breasts that press against her exercise top, and

her hips are wide with a certain swing to them that
has my mouth watering. Her buttocks are creamy
and enormous, encased in tight gym leggings, which
also highlight her ample thighs and narrow, shapely
calves.

“You must be Maisie,” I say in a deep voice

while sticking my hand out. “Hi, I’m Patrick. Also
known as Mr. P.”

She flushes brightly even as that small palm is

engulfed in my large one.

“You’re Mr. P?” she asks breathlessly. “Oh

wow. You’re not what I expected at all.”

I grin.
“Let me guess … you were thinking gold

chains, bulging guns, and a mohawk right?”

She giggles a little, flushing even more.
“Yes,” she admits. “I guess you get that a lot.”
I nod.
“Yep, sure do. But I’m glad you’re here

because I’m ready for our personal training session.
Are you?”

She swallows, a little nervous.
“Yeah, I am. Well, sort of. Is there a women’s

locker room where I can drop my stuff off?”

I nod.
“There’s a women’s changing area right back

here,” I say, leading her around the partition to a
narrow hallway. “And the gym is the second door
to your left. Meet me there when you’re ready?”

She nods, her breasts bobbling a bit even

though they’re encased in a stretchy viscose top.

“Sure. Looking forward to it, Mr. P,” she says

sassily  while  disappearing  through  the  door.  I  stop
in  my  tracks,  the  blood  pounding  in  my  temples.
Holy cow, is Maisie flirting with me? I would swear
yes,  judging  from  the  flirtatious  swing  of  her  hips
and the brightness of those big brown eyes. But her
mom  made  it  sound  like  she  was  a  wallflower,
desperate for a guy to ask her to dance.

Stop it, the voice in my head warns. You were

hired to help Maisie lose weight, and not to flirt
and make-out. Get a hold of yourself.

Of course, the voice is right but I can’t help the

X-rated  thoughts  that  churn  through  my  head.
Maisie,  spread  eagle  with  her  big  breasts  heaving,
the  tips  hard  and  pebbled.  Maisie,  chanting  my
name  as  I  give  it  to  her  hard  and  direct.  Maisie,
convulsing with ecstasy with my candy cane stuck
deep  inside  her  wet  warmth.  Suddenly,  personal
training has never sounded so good.

MAISIE

let myself out of the locker room to step into
the hallway. Every cell in my body feels alive,
like I’ve been sleeping for centuries only to be

awakened a gorgeous prince. After all, Patrick is
definitely very prince-like. He’s tall, handsome,
with the charisma and confidence of an alpha male,
not to mention the anatomy of a male stallion.

After all, I can’t get the image out of my mind. I

keep  seeing  his  penetrating  blue  eyes,  of  course,
but  I  also  keep  seeing  that  enormous  bulge  in  his
gym pants. Most men wear loose basketball shorts,
but  not  my  personal  trainer.  He  was  wearing
compression  leggings  that  not  only  highlighted  his
thick tree trunk thighs, but also the giant snake that
was so big that it reached almost to his knee.

His knee? the voice in my head scoffs. Please,

Maisie, get real. That’s only in the dirty movies

you’ve been watching on your phone.

I blush because the voice has a point. I’ve

never been with a man in real life, but that doesn’t
mean I don’t enjoy some of the free videos on-line
every now and then. In fact, I find them kind of
fun. There are all sorts of X-rated clips that titillate
me, and sometimes after my parents are asleep, I’ll
pull the covers over my head and flip on my phone
for some raunchy viewing.

But that’s the thing. It’s fun to watch the videos

and my battery-operated boyfriend does his job just
fine. But sadly, there have been no men in real life.
There  were  some  boys  at  my  community  college
who  asked  me  out,  but  I  found  them  uninspiring
and  always  said  no.  They  were  immature,  with
greasy  skin  and  ill-fitting  clothes.  More  recently,
Lionel’s  asked  me  out  a  few  times,  much  to  my
chagrin. My  co-worker  thinks  he’s  got  it  going  on,
but  I  always  say  no,  stating  that  we  can’t  date
because we’re co-workers. To  be  honest,  there  are
no  rules  at  the  vet’s  office  about  dating  another
employee,  but  I  just  say  that  there  are  so  that  it’s
easier to get Lionel off my back.

But now, I’ve seen manhood in its full glory,

and  my  mouth  falls  open  with  the  memory  of
Patrick’s  member  because  I  didn’t  know  that  guys
like  that  actually  exist  in  real  life.  He  must  be  at
least  ten  inches  long  and  so  thick  that  it’s  difficult
to get a rubber on. What would it feel like to have

that in me? Would I moan with pleasure or squirm
with discomfort? Would he be gentle or ruthless?
My body grows moist and hot merely thinking
about it.

Unfortunately, I can’t let on that I’m having

these thoughts because it would be humiliating if he
knew. Of  course,  how  any  woman  controls  herself
around  such  masculinity  is  beyond  me,  but  before
opening the door to the gym, I force myself to take
a  deep  breath  and  try  to  calm  my  pounding  pulse.
Down girl, the voice in my head warns. You’re here
to work out, and not for sexy times.

But when I open the door and glimpse Patrick

again, every nerve in my body leaps to life because
he’s  absolutely  mouth-watering.  At  the  moment,
he’s turned around fastening a weight to a machine,
and  I  can’t  help  but  appreciate  those  firm  male
buttocks. They  look  like  they’re  as  hard  and  steel,
and  I  long  to  run  my  tongue  along  that  heavenly
musculature.

“Hi,” I stammer. “Sorry I took so long.”
For the first time in my life, I’m glad that

Lorraine  made  me  invest  in  some  sexy  work-out
clothes.  After  all,  left  to  my  own  devices,  I’d  be
wearing  shapeless  sweats  that  have  seen  better
days. But  instead,  I’ve  stripped  off  my  gym  top  to
reveal  a  sports  bra,  and  I  know  it  highlights  my
generous  Double  Ds.  In  fact,  my  girls  strain  at  the
tight material, bulging a little bit from the sides and

I giggle as Patrick stares involuntarily.

“You like my outfit?” I ask teasingly.
He merely shakes his head.
“Are you sure that’s going to stay on today?

We’re doing some pretty rigorous stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I say merrily. “If your tight

spandex can keep your junk in the trunk, then my
tight spandex can definitely keep my girls in check.
Trust me,” I say.

One eyebrow rises and a dark flush descends on

his sharp cheekbones.

“Oh, is that so?” he growls.
“It is,” I chirp merrily. But then I look around

with confusion. “But where is everyone? Why isn’t
anyone here? Is today a slow day or something?”

After all, the gym is completely empty, and I

don’t hear a sound, which means there isn’t another
soul hiding behind the weights or the towering stack
of mats.

Patrick merely grins.
“It’s empty because we’re having a personal

one-on-one session. Did you expect something
different?”

I nod, my brows knitting together.
“Well, yes. I mean, there are tons of lockers in

the locker room, and I thought that while we were
having our personal training session, other people
would be using the gym. You know, running, lifting
weights, et cetera.”

Patrick merely shrugs and grins.
“Yeah, that’s what happens in regular gyms, but

my  gym  is  different.  We’re  an  elite,  exclusive
outfit,  and  as  a  result,  it’s  just  me  and  my  client  a
lot of the time. When we’re working out, there’s no
one  else  present,  which  a  lot  of  customers
appreciate because they value their privacy. We do
have  some  open  hours  each  afternoon  when
members can come in to exercise on their own, but
for the most part, it’s just one on one discipline.”

My heart begins racing.
“So for the entire fifty minutes it’ll just be you

and me?” I ask quizzically.

He grins, blue eyes gleaming.
“That’s right, Maisie. Why, are you scared?”
Immediately, I stand up straighter.
“Of course I’m not! I’m just asking because I’m

surprised.”

He grins, flashing bright white teeth, and if I’m

not mistaken, the air between us is pulsing with
tension … sexual tension to be exact.

“Good,” he says. “Then let’s get started. On

your back,” he commands. “Now.”

I stare at him, and then at the mat on the floor

he’s laid out. It’s blue, flat, and beckoning to me. I
hot shiver runs over my body and my knees tremble
slightly. Oh my gosh, things are already starting to
get steamy between me and my hunky personal
trainer, and I can’t wait.

PATRICK

aisie stands there for a moment, her
breasts trembling.

“What are you waiting for?” I

growl. “I said, get on the mat.”

She gasps, flashing me a look with her big

brown  eyes,  but  then  she  gets  down  like  I’ve
ordered. The  curvy  girl  lies  on  her  back  when  her
knees  up  in  a  vee  with  her  sneakered  feet  flat  on
the ground.

“Like this?” she asks in a tremulous voice.
I can barely answer because she’s so gorgeous

spread out before me. Her curves are hilly and lush,
with  those  giant  breasts  like  fluffy  mounds
balanced against her chest. I’d love to pop one out
of  her  sports  bra  right  now  and  suckle  on  the  tip,
but  that  would  be  unprofessional.  After  all,  I’m
here to help her lose weight.

But the truth is that Maisie doesn’t need to lose

weight because she’s perfect as she is. Many times,
when  women  drop  weight  they  don’t  realize  that
the  structures  that  keep  them  looking  feminine  are
going to go right down the drain. For example, their
boobs  will  sag  and  they’ll  develop  saddle  bags  on
their hips from excess loose flesh. In fact, if I were
going to have heart-to-heart with Maisie right now,
I’d ask her not to diet. I’d recommend that she gain
some  weight  in  order  to  fully  flesh  out  her  figure,
and to make her look even more womanly. Twenty
more pounds sounds just about right.

But I can’t say that right now as the plush girl

looks up at me, breathing shallowly through her
nose.

“What next?” she murmurs.
I growl, getting down on my knees next to her.
“We’re going to do some stretching because

before you work out, you should always stretch.
Otherwise, the risk of injury is higher, and you
could seriously pull a muscle.”

I can feel her temperature skyrocket as those

large breasts quiver.

“Oh yes, of course,” she babbles a little.

“Stretching. Definitely.”

With that, she pulls one knee up to her chest,

squashing her generous bosom with the back of one
thigh. I almost groan and my hardness twitches as
her creamy white flesh bulges from the side of her

sports bra. Holy shit, this woman is bursting out of
her clothes, and I’ve never wanted to see a woman
nude as badly as I want to see Maisie. She must
look like a goddess: wanton, fleshy and fertile.

After all, I’m done with hardbodies. They come

into  my  gym,  with  their  stiff-as-rock  muscles  and
eight-pack  abs.  But  the  thing  is  that  women  who
look  like  that  don’t  appeal  to  me  because  they
almost resemble men. I like females who are curvy
and  plush,  with  moist  bits  and  giggly  laughs.  I  like
them  soft  and  generous,  with  sweet  smiles  and  a
welcoming look in their eyes. By contrast, the alpha
females  who  work  out  at  Mr.  P’s  often  have  low
voices from testosterone shots and bronzed muscles
that feel like soda cans when you touch them.

That doesn’t mean that they’re not women

though.  They  still  book  me  for  personal  training
sessions,  but  I’m  always  very  deferential  and
courteous  during  those  sessions.  I  call  them
“Ma’am”  or  “Mrs.  So-and-So”  and  avert  my  eyes
whenever  we  do  exercises  involving  the  chest  or
groin.  I  also  wear  loose  t-shirts  and  basketball
shorts  when  working  with  my  other  female  clients
because I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.

But somehow, I knew that Maisie was going to

be  different.  When  her  mother  called,  I  had  a
feeling deep in my gut that this curvy girl was going
to  be  right  up  my  alley,  and  sure  enough,  she  is.  I
need  to  stay  focused  and  professional,  but

unfortunately, the snake in my pants has a mind of
its  own.  It’s  stiffening  and  hardening,  and
goddamnit,  but  I  think  it’s  already  beginning  to
leak.  Hopefully,  the  wet  spot  isn’t  showing,
otherwise my sweet customer is going to go running
for the hills.

“Mr. P, am I doing this right?” Maisie asks

while lifting her knee to her chest and squeezing it
tight. “Should I do the same thing with my other
leg?”

I shake my head.
“Let me help you get a better stretch,” I say,

taking her calf in one hand. “Now extend your leg,
and let me press it over your shoulder.”

We get into a very close position where we’re

almost face to face despite the fact that I have her
outstretched left leg in both of my hands. Slowly, I
press it backwards, and she moans at the delicious
stretch.

“Oooh, I can feel that in the area behind me

knee,” she squeals. “It’s tight!”

“It is,” I growl. “One. Two. Three. Hooooold.

Now relax.”

With that, I let go of her leg, and slowly bring it

back down to rest on the mat. Then I pick up her
other leg.

“Same thing on this side,” I rumble. “Ready?”
She nods, and gently, I push back on the leg

until that one too is high up behind her ear. We’re

face to face again, albeit with one curvy thigh
between us, and I can see her nostrils flaring gently
with my proximity.

“That feels good,” she manages in a slightly

strangled voice. “I didn’t even know my leg could
go so far back.”

“It can,” I say with a slight smirk while letting

her appendage drift slowly back to the floor. “I’m
here to push you to new heights so that your body
can do things you never imagined. Now, let’s get
both legs stretched at once.”

Maisie nods.
“What should I do?”
“Hold your legs out wide,” I command. “Like

you’re doing the air splits, with each big toe pointed
at different corners of the room.”

Her eyes widen because it’s going to be a dirty

position. In fact, she’ll basically be baring her
sweetness to me, even though it’s covered with
fabric at the moment.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispers. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm,” I nod. “If you can’t do the splits,

I’ll help you.”

“I can’t do them,” she confirms. “I’ve never

been that flexible, not even when I was a kid.”

I nod.
“No worries. Just give it a try, and we’ll see

how it goes.”

Slowly, Maisie nods and takes a deep breath

before stretching her legs apart and lifting them up
with a hand under each thigh. Her breasts strain at
her  sports  bra  as  her  legs  split  wider  and  wider,
each  meaty  thigh  making  my  already-stiff  rod
harden even more. She strains and pulls, her brown
curls  tumbling  in  a  mass  around  her  shoulders  as
her  legs  form  a  beautiful  vee,  and  that’s  when  I
catch  a  glimpse  of  what  I’ve  been  waiting  for.
Because  the  curvy  girl  is  aroused  and  it  shows.
There’s  a  wet  spot  right  at  the  crotch  of  her
leggings,  and  I  know  it’s  not  sweat.  Instead,  a
glorious  female  musk  permeates  the  air,  and  as  I
sniff the delicious scent, my manhood leaps to full
power. Maisie wants this just as much as I do, and
I’m  the  man  to  show  her  the  full  power  of  my
candy cane staff.

MAISIE

atrick’s blue eyes flare as he takes in my
position.

“You look gorgeous like this,” he

growls.

I flush.
“I do? Oh my gosh, it feels good.”
After all, I can hardly believe this is happening.

I’m  all  alone  with  a  handsome  man,  and  I’m  lying
on the floor before him with my legs split wide. In
fact,  I’m  parting  my  legs  for  him,  as  if  baring  my
most  sensitive  spot  while  cupping  my  breasts  as  if
in  offering.  But  of  course,  that’s  not  true  because
I’m  clothed.  Maybe  my  gym  outfit  is  tight  and
revealing,  but  it’s  still  real  fabric  preventing  his
eyes  from  seeing  the  lush  curves  and  moist  folds
that crave his touch.

But then, Patrick surprises me. He kneels

between my legs, and those broad shoulders are so
wide that they almost block out the light from
above.

“May I, sweetheart?”
I’m not sure what he’s going to do, but it

certainly seems promising. I nod, breathing
shallowly, and a grin spreads over that handsome
face.

“Good,” he growls. One big hand goes to the

inside  of  my  thigh  and  gently  squeezes  it  before
pressing  it  wider.  I  moan  melodiously  and  gasp
again  as  his  other  hand  seizes  my  other  thigh,
caressing the thickness of my muscle.

“You’re so curvy,” he groans beneath his

breath. “I have to—”

But before he can finish the sentence, the

impossible  happens.  I  wear  a  brand  called
LovelyCurves.  The  company  makes  gym  clothes
especially  for  bigger  girls,  and  everything  is
supposed  to  be  double-reinforced  and  super-strong
in order to hold everything in.

But evidently, they’ve never met Mr. P’s

CrossFit before because right when Patrick’s about
to  do  something  delicious,  the  seam  at  my  crotch
bursts. And it doesn’t just rip a little, leaving a tiny
hole  at  my  sensitive  spot.  Instead,  the  entire  groin
portion  seems  to  come  apart  with  a  loud  rrrrip!
Suddenly,  my  entire  pussy  is  bare  and  just  inches
from Patrick’s face.

“Oh my god!” I scream, immediately trying to

bring  my  thighs  together.  My  knees  reflexively
attempt  to  jerk  shut,  but  the  problem  is  that
Patrick’s  got  one  hand  on  each  of  my  thighs,
pressing  them  apart.  They  stay  wide,  and  my
steamy pussy literally pulses below his hungry gaze,
my  pink  hole  winking.  “Oh  my  god!”  I  scream
again.

But my hunky personal trainer isn’t bothered in

the least. If anything, those blue eyes flare and a
muscle twitches in his jaw.

“You’re so beautiful, Maisie,” he rasps in a

hoarse voice. “Oh shit, I have to kiss it.”

Before I can move, he dips his head and lets his

tongue trace all the way from my sweetly sopping
slit to my nub. I let out a shrill scream of pleasure,
my back bucking up and coming halfway off the
mat with ecstasy.

“Oh my god!” is my helpless shriek. “Unnh!

Fuck!”

The gorgeous man doesn’t even look up. If

anything, he bends his head lower and really gets in
there, massaging the bottom of my clit with his
tongue before sucking it tight between his lips. Hot
pulses jolt through my pussy and I scream again as
nectar flows out, coating his chin.

“Unnh!” is my delirious mewl. “Oh god, oh

god, yes!”

Patrick merely grunts before letting his tongue

trail down to my hole, and then with a sly smile, he
gently eases it into my tight, wet canal.

“Oh fuck baby, you taste so good,” is his moan.

“Shit, I’ve never had a woman as sweet as you.”

To my mixed horror and delight, he begins

thrusting into my tight spot, slipping and sliding his
tongue  deep  into  my  pulsing  cavern.  Hot  flashes
begin  to  sparkle  through  my  frame  and  my  breasts
tremble. Desperately, I let go of my thighs and pull
them from the sports bra so that they lush mounds
are out and in the open. Then I lift one to my mouth
and  suckle  at  the  nipple  as  Patrick  thrusts  his
tongue again and again into my sopping slit.

“Unnh!” I squeal. “Oh god, yes!”
It happens then. I’ve never been with a man

before,  and  as  a  result,  this  dirty  scenario  is  too
much  for  my  senses.  Before  I  can  warn  him,  my
body  reaches  its  peak  and  bursts.  My  eyes  roll  up
into  the  back  of  my  head,  showing  the  whites,  as
my  femininity  spasms  and  pulses,  clenching  on  his
tongue.

“Eeee!” is my delighted squeal as I take

another pull from my breast. “Oh god yes!”

Patrick doesn’t even hesitate. He continues to

drink at the fountain between my legs, stroking my
trembling flesh while swallowing gulp after gulp of
hot, sweet nectar. I moan and thrash against his
mouth as electrical pulses run through my sweetest
spot, stars flying before my eyes as this man eats

me up in the best way possible.

When it’s finally over, I manage to re-orient

myself, breathing hard while staring at the
handsome man.

“What just happened?” I pant. “Did I black

out?”

He smirks a bit, those blue eyes flaring.
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t black out. But

you’re going to when you get a load from my tool
because are you ready, Maisie? It’s time for the
good stuff.”

With that, I gasp because Patrick’s pulled out

that  enormous  candy  cane,  and  he’s  already
seeping from the tip. It’s huge, hard, and my mouth
waters  just  seeing  the  gift  coming  my  way.
Suddenly,  I  can’t  wait  to  become  a  woman  in  full
with my handsome personal trainer.

PATRICK

oly shit, is this really happening? I have a
lush, nude woman before me on the gym
mat who’s panting and heaving from the

rush of her climax. In fact, there’s a delicious pool
of fluid right below her kitty from when she came,
and a dirty part of me wants to lean down and lick
it up.

But I won’t because it’s clear that Maisie is an

innocent. She came from me kissing and licking her
sensitive folds while tugging lightly at her nub. And
when I pushed my tongue into her hole, my tool
jerked because I came up against a barrier that only
sweet virgins have: a hymen.

It seems impossible because these days, women

lose their hymen in their teens if not earlier.
Regular exertion can do it: a vigorous game of
volleyball for example, or maybe some jumping up

and down on a trampoline. But in this case, I have a
sweet, curvy, twenty-five-year old virgin on my
hands, whom by all accounts I should leave alone.
Her mom’s not paying me to have fun with her
nubile daughter, and yet my staff’s already out and
ready, pointing straight at the curvy girl.

But to my surprise, she doesn’t pull away in

fear  at  my  huge  size.  Of  course,  Maisie’s  eyes
widen and she gasps a bit, her cheeks flushing. But
then  she  gives  into  her  true  nature  and  leans
forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. A smear of
white  graces  her  lips  when  she  pulls  away  and  I
groan, my blue eyes flashing.

“You can suck it if you want.”
She giggles a bit, worming out of her sports bra.

By now, I’ve ripped off the entirety of her leggings
so that she’s wholly nude before me, and the sight
is entrancing. She’s pink and white all over, with a
sopping slit between her legs that I can’t wait to
taste again and huge Double Ds that sway with
every movement. But right now, Maisie gets on her
knees before me like a good girl and cups my balls
in one tiny palm.

“Can I have a taste of your candy cane,

Daddy?”

I groan again.
“You sure can, honey. Suck it tight, and lick as

much as you want.”

She giggles again before leaning forward

delicately and taking the head between those plush
lips. The top of my skull almost pops off because it
feels so good but I manage to keep myself in check
by stroking through those brown curls.

“That a girl,” I groan hoarsely. “Shit, you look

beautiful doing that.”

Her eyes flicker up at me, and a sweet smile

crosses  her  lips  even  as  she  sucks  harder.  Her
cheeks  hollow  from  the  suction  and  a  bit  of  male
seed  jets  into  her  mouth,  which  Maisie  swallows
hungrily.

“Mmm,” she moans. “Daddy’s candy cane is so

tasty. I love it.”

Involuntarily, I spurt again.
“Keep this up, sweetheart, and Daddy will have

more than a few mouthfuls of the good stuff for
you,” I growl.

She giggles again and gets back to sucking,

gently tracing her tongue along the vein in my shaft
before going at it full force. My balls raise high and
tight, and I feel a surge in my groin. Holy shit, I’m
going to lose control, which is uncommon given
that I’m usually always in perfect control of my
body.

But with a haste that’s unlike me, I pull from

Maisie’s  lips,  the  huge  sucker  reappearing  from
between  that  pink  pout.  A  trail  of  saliva  connects
the  tip  to  her  lips  and  she  smiles  sweetly  before
breaking  it  with  a  quick  swipe  of  her  tongue.  Of

course, I’m enormous and glistening, which is
perfect for what I want to do next.

“Sweetheart, I told you we were going to get

you stretched out, right? Well now, I’m going to
stretch out a very special part of you.”

Maisie nods eagerly, still on her knees while

massaging her heavenly Double Ds before
corkscrewing off one tip with a finger. A ringing
pop sounds out as she moans melodically.

“Yes, Daddy, of course. I exist to be stretched

by you.”

With that, I nudge her back down so that she’s

on her hands and knees, that huge bottom in the air.
It looks amazing because her cheeks are a pure,
snowy white, ready to be defiled by an alpha male
like myself. Then I line my rod up in back of her
and gently use the tip to stroke through her swollen
folds.

“Feel this?” I rasp. “This is what’s going in

you.”

Her lashes fall shut even as those big breasts

sway in anticipation below her narrow torso.

“I know. I’m ready, Mr. P,” she whispers.
With that, I press my enormous glans against

her tiny hole. She’s moist and wet, but still so small.
Maisie lets out a long, low, throaty moan, lowering
her head so that her cheek rests against the mat.

“Oohhh, you’re so big,” she cries out.
“I know,” is my rasp. “But you can take it

sweetheart.”

With that, I begin pushing my shaft deeper into

her honey, and to her credit, she stretches and
juices more, her sweet nether lips tight like rubber
bands around my hardness.

“Oooooh!” she squeals. “Oh god!”
“We’re almost there,” I grunt under my breath.

“You feel so good, baby girl.”

My hands seize her hips, digging into the

fleshiness, and then suddenly I come to a complete
stop  because  it’s  there.  There’s  a  barrier,  soft  and
spongy,  inside  my  girl,  and  I  take  a  deep  breath,
bracing for the inevitable pain. With a quick thrust
of  my  hips  it’s  done,  and  I’m  through  and  fully
embedded inside.

Maisie jolts and her eyes fly open as she lets out

a squeak.

“Oooh!” is her surprised cry. “Unnnh!”
The curvy girl’s been lifted up by my pole, as if

skewered on the huge stick and she flails a bit, her
ring gripping me reflexively.

“Keep breathing, slow and easy,” I growl. “It’ll

feel really good soon enough. Just relax, Maisie.”

She squeals again but listens, trying to inhale

before exhaling once more. Stroking a large hand
down her back, I soothe the girl like a nervous filly.

“It’s going to feel good now, I promise.”
She pants and lets her head hang, still trying to

adjust to the thickness within her sweetest spot.

“I know, Mr. P,” she moans. “I can take it

now.”

With that, I withdraw slowly, watching with

avid eyes as my enormous rod reappears from her
glistening slit. Then I push back in, almost
exploding with pleasure.

The curvy girl moans and sighs, her eyes

drifting shut once more as she enjoys a man’s hard
shaft for the first time in her life.

“Oh god, I had no idea it could be like this!”

she sighs with bliss. “Unnnh, it feels good.”

“It does,” I growl. “Now get ready for a deep

pound sweetheart, because I can’t hold back
anymore.”

With that, I ease my shaft back into her tiny

hole,  before  slipping  out  and  pushing  back  in.  The
rhythm  gets  faster  and  faster,  but  Maisie  takes  my
large  size  like  a  professional.  She  moans  and
squeals, her fingers gripping the mat as her tiny slit
is  violated  again  and  again.  And  then  it  comes.
Both of us reach our climaxes and we burst into the
heavens,  stars  exploding  before  our  eyes  as  hot
pulses run down my shaft to splash her fertile fields
with seed.

“Oh!” is her delighted cry, hot clenches pulling

my virility in deeper to seed her ovaries. “Mmmm!”

“Fuck!” is my growly response. “Unnnh.

FUCK!”

I pound vigorously, unable to stop myself while

expelling  hot  reams  of  jism  which  the  curvy  girl
soaks  up  like  the  stuff  of  Heaven.  She  mewls  and
clamps  around  me,  her  curves  shaking  with
pleasure  even  as  her  kitty  juices  flood  my  rod  and
drip  down  my  balls.  God,  how  did  she  get  so
responsive?  I’ve  never  had  a  woman  take  my
enormous length so well on the first try.

Finally, the quaking subsides a bit, and we both

float  gently  down  to  earth.  I  pull  out  and  lie  back
flat  on  the  mat  before  jumping  to  my  feet  and
rushing to the restroom. When I return, it’s to find
Maisie  still  lying  on  the  mat  with  a  confused
expression on her face.

“Where did you go?” she mewls, lifting her

head to look at me. “Why did you disappear like
that? I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

I growl.
“Never, sweetheart. It’s just that this is your

first time, and I want to make sure you’re taken
care of.”

With that, I press a warm, damp washcloth

between  her  thighs,  sponging  off  small  traces  of
red.  Sure  enough,  when  I  look  down,  there’s  a
smear of blood on my shaft, and a male possession
rises  in  my  chest  like  a  tidal  wave.  It’s  strong,
powerful, and undeniable because shit. This woman
gave me her innocence, and despite the taboo that
we’ve engaged in, Maisie is now mine.

MAISIE

can’t believe this is happening. I’m dating my
personal trainer, and it’s absolutely wonderful.
It’s ironic in a way because my parents only

signed me up for personal training sessions so that I
could find a boyfriend. Little did they realize, but
their dreams came true, albeit not in the way they
imagined.

Because Lorraine and Henry certainly didn’t

expect  me  to  start  dating  Patrick,  I’m  sure.  They
figured that the personal trainer would help me lose
some  weight,  and  then  I’d  meet  a  ton  of  eligible
men  who  were  attracted  by  my  new  slim  figure.
“Eligible”  meaning  a  lawyer,  banker,  doctor,  or
some  other  white  collar  professional.  Then,  we’d
move  in,  and  hopefully  get  married  before  spitting
out a couple of kids. This is all part of the “natural
progression of life,” as my parents call it.

But instead, I’ve fallen in love with Patrick, and

our  time  together  is  sensational.  All  sorts  of
women’s magazines say that making love is a great
way  to  burn  calories,  and  I  have  to  say  I  agree
wholeheartedly  because  Patrick  and  I  have  sexy
time non-stop, and while I haven’t lost any weight,
it certainly is a work out.

Take last week for example. Patrick had me in a

swing of sorts. It’s a contraption that hangs from
the ceiling with a lot of black straps, and I looked at
it askance at first.

“What is this?” I asked with confusion. “Do

your other clients use it too?”

He grinned, blue eyes gleaming devilishly.
“Yep. It has a lot of resistance bands that you

can attach at different joints,” he said, showing me
the steel O rings on the sides. “But we’re not going
to be using it quite that way today.”

I nodded, still nonplussed. There was a small

black seat kind of like the rubber swings that you
see in kiddie playgrounds, with lots of scary-
looking attachments.

“Honestly, it looks like the Pilates exercise

machine from hell.”

Patrick threw his head back and laughed, so

mesmerizingly gorgeous with that bronzed throat
and white teeth.

“I know, sweetheart, but there’s nothing to be

afraid of. Not when I’m here. Now strip,” he

commanded, his eyes already devouring my form,
“and I’ll show you how to use the swing between
lovers.”

I blushed but with eager hands, obeyed. I love

when  my  man  is  in  charge,  and  Patrick  is  an  over
the  top  alpha  male  in  every  way.  Plus,  he’s
definitely  more  experienced  than  I  am  when  it
comes  to  making  love,  and  has  already  taught  me
so many hot moves that I was only looking forward
to exploring more.

Once I was nude, I did a little jiggle, making my

breasts bounce.

“What now, Daddy?” I cooed. “What do we

do?”

With gentle hands, he guided me into the swing,

strapping me into place. That was foreseeable. But
then he lifted my legs and fastened cuffs around
knees, tying them up so that my pulsing kitty was
pulled forwards and into view.

“Goodness!” I exclaimed. “Are we really doing

this?”

“Yes, baby. This is the best way for us to have

deep penetration,” he growled. “You’ll see.”

Pretty soon, I was tied up in a ball of sorts

except  that  my  sweetest  spots  were  exposed  and
totally  at  his  pleasure.  To  my  shame,  my  kitty
juiced  and  pulsed  with  anticipation,  the  scent  of
female honey wafting through the air.

“That’s my pretty girl,” Patrick growled, staring

at my sopping slit with satisfaction before running a
finger through my folds. I almost howled with the
sensation because it felt so amazing. He grunted
and chuckled, ready to do it again.

But I became a wanton woman. I began to beg

him for it.

“Please,” I panted. “I want it so bad. I need it.

Give it to me.”

He chuckled again, revealing that massive iron

rod, and then he pulled me back on the swing
before letting it sway forward, and spearing me
with the huge stick in one swift motion.

“Unnnnh!” I screamed as electricity wracked

my frame. I was stuck on the huge candy cane,
unable to move, and my body pulsed with desire.

“Shhh,” he hushed. “It’s going to be fine.”
With the next sway of the swing, I was pulled

off his rod before being slammed onto it again, the
heat piercing deep inside.

“Ohhhhh!” I wailed. “Oh my god!”
And on and on it went, until we were both dizzy

with pleasure, enjoying one another’s bodies
intimately. I almost passed out, my eyes rolling into
the back of my head as my body soared to ecstatic
heights of pleasure.

It’s been like this again and again too. Patrick

knows so many ways to please me, and I love being
with him, whether doing something cuddly and fun
like watching TV together, or practicing all the

different positions of the Kama Sutra.

But now, Patrick has promised to take me to the

Festival  of  Lights  and  I’m  really  excited  because
it’s a wonderful sight to see. There’s a street in our
town  where  all  the  houses  go  crazy  before
Christmas  with  holiday  decorations.  The  neighbors
don’t  just  string  a  couple  windows  with  lights.
Instead, they go all out, meaning that entire houses
are wrapped in blinking Christmas lights, with Santa
on  the  roof  in  his  sleigh  and  mechanical  reindeer
pawing  at  the  air  with  their  hooves.  I  feel  a  little
bad  because  their  electricity  bills  must  be
horrendous  during  the  months  of  November  and
December.  Plus,  I  heard  that  the  neighborhood  is
really  strict  about  participation.  When  a  potential
new  person  is  about  to  move  in,  they  ask  that  the
new  neighbor  sign  a  contract  promising  to  do  up
their  house  in  thousands  of  watts  of  Christmas
decorations.

But I like it. Even though I’ve lived in this town

my whole life, I like to go every year to see, and it
always makes me feel excited and happy for
Christmas. Happiness floods my frame, and I fluff
my curls in the mirror, smiling widely. I look happy,
sated, and like a woman in love.

There’s a ding-dong on my parents’ door, and I

skip down the stairs while pulling on my ski jacket,
hat and mittens.

“Hi,” I say, flinging the door open before

stepping outside. “It’s cold isn’t it?”

Patrick looks so handsome. He’s wearing a

navy puffer jacket that highlights the blue of his
eyes, and jeans that sit just so on his hips. The tail
of a plaid shirt peeks out from beneath the hem of
his jacket and I giggle.

“Are you going for the lumberjack look?” I ask.

“Or how about a mountain man?”

He chuckles, slinging an arm around my

shoulder as we head to his car.

“Lumberjack, definitely,” he growls. “How’d

you like to see my big ax, pretty girl?”

I giggle as he opens the car door for me, and

slip in. When he’s set on his side of the car, I turn
to him.

“I’d love to see your axe, Mr. Lumberjack.

Care to show it to me?” I coo with sparkles in my
eyes.

And to my delight, despite the fact that we’re

parked in front of my parents’ house, Patrick unzips
his fly with a sly grin and pulls it out. Of course, my
mouth goes dry because he’s absolutely huge, even
in the cold. That enormous ten incher is thick
around the base and as I watch, it straightens in his
lap, begging to be licked.

“Oh I want it,” I breathe, already leaning

forward and ducking my head. But Patrick is quick.
He slips it back in and zips up within seconds,
shooting me a knowing look.

“I know my little girl likes Daddy’s candy cane,

but you’re not getting it right now. We can’t do it in
front of your parents’ house because that would be
asking for it. Plus, have you been a good girl for
Santa this year? I hope so because we’re going to
see St. Nick now.”

With that, he revs the car and we’re off to the

neighborhood  where  the  Festival  of  Lights  takes
place.  I’m  disappointed  but  happy  too  because  I
know Patrick will share his huge tool with me later
tonight. With another smile, I seize my lovers’ hand
as we drive, and he turns to smile at me in turn. My
heart flowers and bursts open because never have I
been  so  elated.  I’m  with  the  man  I  love,  and  this
date is going to be wonderful.

PATRICK

aisie is so innocent that I have to be
careful because I don’t want to get her
in trouble. She’s sweet and true, and

while  I  love  that  about  her,  there’s  also  an  air  of
girlish  naivete  to  her.  For  example,  I  thought  she
was  going  to  go  down  on  me  right  there  while  we
were parked in front of her parents’ home. Sure, it
was  already  8  p.m.,  but  it  wasn’t  dark  yet.  As  a
result,  anyone  could  have  seen  us,  potentially
creating a sticky situation

Plus, I don’t think that Maisie realizes this, but

most parents don’t want their daughters to marry a
personal trainer. It’s for good reason because we
don’t

have

stable

jobs.

We’re

essentially

freelancers, working on an “as needed” basis most
of the time. As a result, our income is uncertain,
and most of my compatriots aren’t saving for

retirement or putting money aside for their kids’
college expenses. We’re lucky just to be living
paycheck to paycheck most of the time.

But my situation is a little different because I

own  Mr.  P’s  CrossFit.  As  a  small  business  owner,
I’m able to purchase regular health insurance, and I
also  have  a  recurring  stream  of  revenue  from  the
gym memberships I sell, and from the trainers who
pay  me  a  percentage  of  their  fees  to  see  clients  at
my gym. Not only that, but the entrepreneurial bug
has gotten me and I’m looking into starting my own
health  supplements  brand.  Why  not?  Nutrition  is
very much a part of my work, and supplements are
a  way  to  make  sure  you’re  getting  the  right
vitamins, minerals, and other compounds needed in
order to lead a healthy life.

But for now, from the outside it probably looks

like I’m a small business owner hanging by a thread
economically.  I  still  see  clients  one-on-one,  so
people don’t realize that I’ve moved onto becoming
a  business  mogul.  Women  that  I’ve  dated  don’t
mind,  but  their  parents  are  generally  wary,  and  I
can  understand  why.  Moms  and  dads  want  their
daughters  to  marry  well,  and  a  guy  who’s  in  the
process of building a business doesn’t have a lot of
spare cash around.

But that’s one of the things that I adore about

Maisie. She doesn’t care about money, which is
obvious because she works as a vet tech, which

pays a pittance. On top of that, my woman is saving
money  to  donate  to  the  ASPCA  because  she  loves
animals  and  cares  about  their  welfare.  Plus,  she’s
okay  with  doing  cheap  things  like  seeing  the
Festival  of  Lights,  which  is  essentially  free.  There
are  no  fancy  dinners  or  Broadway  shows  in  our
simple  life  together;  there’s  only  love,  happiness,
and mutual adoration.

Which is why when I pull up to the corners of

Tremont and Edgeworth, I have a special smile for
her.

“Ready?” I ask.
Maisie is staring out the car window, her mouth

agape in awe of the flashing lights up and down
Tremont.

“I am,” she murmurs. “Holy cow, this is even

better than last year.”

I smile and get out to help her out of the car.

She  grabs  my  hand  before  stepping  onto  the
slippery sidewalk, and I let my gaze graze her figure
with  appreciation.  She’s  put  on  weight  since  we
began  our  personal  training  sessions,  and  it  looks
amazing. She’s full-figured and sassy, and her tight
jeans hug those wide hips. Her generous breasts are
concealed  beneath  a  heavy  woolen  peacoat,  but
that’s okay. I know I’ll see them later tonight.

But then she wobbles on the ice and grabs my

arm.

“Steady there,” I chuckle. “You okay?”

Her face is flushed and the tip of her nose a bit

red.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just a little off balance,

that’s all. Plus, I felt a little sick last night. I hate to
say it, but I think it was Mom’s stew. There was
something about those beef cubes that didn’t agree
with me.”

I chuckle and tuck her hand safely into my

elbow.

“Stick with me, pretty girl, and you’ll be fine.”
She giggles and hugs my arm tightly.
“I know, because you’re my hero, Patrick.”
My heart expands. I love being this woman’s

hero, and I’d ride through a desert to conquer
dragons if that’s what it takes to keep Maisie by my
side. We wander towards the lights and my love
gasps again, her eyes shining with awe.

“Oh my gosh, look at that!” she squeals. One

neighbor  has  done  up  their  lawn  like  a  Mad
Teacups ride except that the teacups are Christmas-
themed  as  they  rotate  around  the  lawn.  Santa’s  in
one  of  the  teacups,  as  well  as  a  reindeer,  an  elf,  a
snowman, and Mrs. Klaus.

“That’s so imaginative!” she cries. “I wonder

where they got the Mad Teacups ride from? Do you
think they bought it from Six Flags or Great
Adventure?”

I shrug as we continue strolling along the

sidewalk.

“I have no idea but a lot of these folks are very

handy, sweetheart. I bet they could build something
like that themselves from wood, metal and nails if
they had to.”

“Are you serious?” asks Maisie. “It seems like

it’d be easier to buy it from a purveyor of
amusement park rides. Does that even exist? Do
Great America and Six Flags order their rides from
a manufacturer?”

I shake my head.
“Beats me. They probably do. After all, you

know the rock and roll memorabilia in various Hard
Rock Cafes? For example, Gwen Stefani’s glittery
jeans that she wears on stage, or Elvis’s guitar pick?
All that stuff is from a catalogue.”

Maisie stops to stare at me, halting in her

tracks.

“No way,” she breathes.
“Yes way,” I say with a quirk of my lips. “There

are  companies  that  specialize  in  this  kind  of  gear.
They  buy  concert  memorabilia  from  artists  and
production companies and then sell it to restaurants
like  the  Hard  Rock  Café,  Planet  Hollywood,  and
whatnot. It’s a real good gig.”

Maisie shakes her head in wonder.
“Who knew?”
I pat her hand.
“I know right? Hey, check this out. This one’s

cool too.”

The next house over has set up a life size

nativity  scene  in  their  front  yard,  except  that
everyone is a zombie. Joseph, Mary and the Three
Kings  are  zombies,  with  ghoulish  grins  and  skull-
like heads. Only Baby Jesus is spared. He’s a pink-
cheeked  cherub  in  his  bassinet,  with  a  donkey
looking  over  the  fence  at  his  peacefully  sleeping
face.

“Wait a minute, what’s going on here?” asks

Maisie with confusion. “It’s not Halloween, so why
have they reenacted the nativity scene with
ghosts?”

I shake my head.
“I don’t know sweetheart, but I read an article

about this spread in the paper. A lot of folks aren’t
happy  with  this  presentation  because  they  feel  it’s
disrespectful to the Christian religion, even if Jesus
is  technically  a  zombie  with  the  resurrection  and
all.  People  are  lobbying  for  this  one  to  be  taken
down.”

Sure enough, as we stride by the nativity scene,

an older lady with a colorful hat accosts us with a
clipboard.

“Sign our petition to get these terrible

decorations  destroyed,”  she  says,  practically
thrusting  the  clipboard  at  us.  “This  is  no  way  to
revere  the  Holy  Father’s  family!  Sacrilege!”  she
almost screams.

A shutter at the house twitches behind her, but

there’s  no  other  sign  of  life.  Mary  and  Joseph
continue  grinning  their  ghoulish  smiles  and  Baby
Jesus  rests  amiably  in  his  manger.  Maisie  looks
uncertain and a bit terrified, so I take the lead.

“Thanks, we’ll think about it,” I say. “I believe

they’ll be discussing this nativity scene at the next
City Council meeting, and I’ll be sure to bring it up
then.”

With a nod, we pass by the woman, who’s

turned to accost the next set of spectators.
Meanwhile, Maisie holds tight to my elbow.

“Thanks for handling that,” she says in a

slightly shaken voice. “That woman was a little
scary.”

I pat her hand.
“I know. There are a lot of crazies out there,

even here in our little town.”

My girl nods gratefully, but then turns to me.
“But why are you going to be at the City

Council meeting?” she asks. “What’s going on
that’s so important? Are you really going just to
protest this nativity scene? Should I go?”

I laugh. I’m going because I’ve just gotten in

my  first  batch  of  organic  supplements,  and  I’m
applying for a permit to sell them in a new shop in
town. Of  course,  the  supplements  will  also  be  sold
from behind the counter at the gym, but I also want
something  more  serious.  I  don’t  want  these
supplements to seem like homemade remedies that

a grandma concocted from a witch’s brew. I want
them to be legit, with a real store, and real
branding, because that’s the only way they’re going
to take off.

As a result, I purchased a small store space

downtown, and we’re setting up shop. I’ve already
hired  an  employee  to  work  retail,  and  the
contractor’s there right now getting things ready for
our Grand Opening. But I haven’t told anyone yet,
not  even  Maisie,  because  I  need  a  license  to
operate first. That’s going to be taken care of at the
next  City  Council  meeting,  and  I  can’t  wait  to  let
her  know  the  news.  I’m  practically  bursting  with
excitement but manage to hide my pounding heart.
I want it to be a surprise, and I want to see my girl’s
face lit up with joy as I embark on my new venture.

“I figure there will be some interesting things at

the next City Council meeting,” I say in a vague
tone. “I’ll tell you more about it later, when it’s not
so cold.”

Maisie’s about to say something, but then we

come  upon  the  grandest  display  of  all.  There’s  a
huge Santa in his sled perched on the roof of a two-
story  house,  with  one  arm  raised  in  the  air  to  say
hello.  Eight  reindeer  outlined  in  sparkling  lights
prance  before  him,  and  buzzy  Christmas  music
plays from hidden speakers.

“Oh my gosh, this is so amazing!” squeals

Maisie. “Look, there’s fake snow too!”

Sure enough, the homeowner has hidden

snowblowers among the bushes, and geysers of
white confetti float into the air before swirling
around and settling about our shoulders like the real
thing.

“This is so awesome!” my girl laughs, her face

turned up to enjoy the snow. “I love it.”

I can’t resist the temptation and spin her around

to press a tender kiss to that pink pout.

“I love you, sweetheart, and being here with

you means everything to me,” I say.

She melts before my eyes, leaning into my kiss

as her lashes flutter shut.

“I love you too, Patrick,” she whispers. We

savor this romantic moment, but then Maisie
surprises me by breaking free and scampering off.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask,

dumbfounded. “What’s going on?”

She giggles while waving for me to follow.
“Come on! I just noticed that Santa’s arm

stopped waving, and we need to fix that.”

I squint up into the night sky, and it’s true.

Santa’s mechanical arm, which previously had been
swinging  back  and  forth  in  hello,  has  stopped
moving.  But  it  didn’t  stop  in  mid-air.  Instead,  the
thing  swung  down  so  that  it’s  dangling  across  his
body  at  a  weird  angle,  looking  like  he’s  got  a
disjointed elbow.

“The elves will be very unhappy if Santa can’t

wave, not to mention the children who aren’t going
to get their gifts this year,” Maisie calls from across
the lawn. “Come on!”

I start jogging towards her, looking around us.
“Yeah, but what are we going to do? Shouldn’t

we just inform the homeowner? They must have
tools or something to take care of this.”

But my curvy girl doesn’t hear. She’s circling

the  edge  of  the  house,  staring  up  into  the  sky.  We
move  further  and  further  along  the  side  of  the
house  until  we’re  right  by  the  back  gate.  Then,  to
my  surprise,  Maisie  pops  the  latch  open  and  slips
into the backyard.

“Come on,” she beckons. “I see a fire escape

over here.”

I pause. What private home has a fire escape? I

thought  people  slid  down  gutters  and  skidded  over
roofs when their houses were on fire. But evidently,
this  handsome  Federalist  mansion  has  a  real  fire
escape,  although  it  isn’t  much  more  than  a  rickety
metal ladder extending from the roof to the garden.

To my dismay, Maisie’s already starting to

climb.

“Wait,” I stammer, rushing over to stand by the

metal ladder. “What’s going on?”

“Come on, slowpoke,” she says merrily. “What

are you waiting for?”

As I watch, mouth agape, the beautiful woman

ascends at least twenty feet in the air, agile as a

chipmunk.  She’s  sure  on  her  feet,  and  strong  and
flexible too. Silently, I curse my personal training. I
must  have  taught  her  that  during  our  mock-boxing
sessions. At the very least, I gave her confidence in
her  physical  abilities,  because  as  I  watch,  Maisie
swings  off  the  ladder  and  hoists  herself  onto  the
roof.  She’s  now  twenty  feet  in  the  air  above  me,
grinning  down  while  gesturing  with  a  mittened
hand.

“Come on, Patrick! Last one up’s a rotten egg.”
I groan silently. Obviously, I’m a rotten egg

because she’s already up there, while I’m still down
here. But I need to follow my gorgeous girl because
where she goes, I go. Grimacing, I tentatively put
my booted foot on the metal ladder, testing its
durability. Shit. Will this thing support my muscled
frame?

But again, where Maisie goes, I must follow,

and with a grimace, I begin climbing to the Heavens
in pursuit of my girl.

MAISIE

atrick has done so much for me, and I really
appreciate it. He’s made me feel confident
about my body, and my current position on

the roof of this two-story house is testament to that.

Before, I would have been petrified, not only of

losing  my  balance  and  injuring  myself,  but  about
breaking  the  ladder  on  the  way  up.  Now  though,  I
feel  much  more  comfortable  in  my  own  skin,  and
scampered up the metal rungs like a squirrel making
its  way  up  a  tree.  There  were  no  thoughts  about
how  I  might  potentially  embarrass  myself,  or  how
the  fat  girl  was  going  to  look  doing  exercise.
Instead, I made quick work of the ascent, and now
I’m  staring  at  the  entire  length  of  Tremont  Street,
marveling at the view.

Patrick finally pokes his head up, looking

adorable with his mussed chestnut hair.

“I’m at the top of the world!” I sing, just like

they do in the Titanic. “Watch me fly!”

Patrick rolls his eyes, levering his giant form so

that he stands with me on the roof.

“Please,” he says, “I never thought Leonardo

DiCaprio was cute. Plus, I always thought there
was room for two on that plank Rose was floating
on at the end.”

I giggle.
“Ah ha, so you’re one of the plank

conspirators.”

He nods.
“I am! What if we were stranded in the ocean

together, with only one plank to save us? Would
you cast me to my death, letting me freeze before
floating off into the sea?”

I giggle.
“You know, this is such a morbid conversation,

but I think I’d move over and let you share some
space.”

He grins at me triumphantly.
“Yeah, see? That’s why I love you, Maisie.”
My heart jumps at the words because this is the

second  time  he’s  said  “I  love  you”  tonight  and  it
thrills me to my soul. I’ve never even really dated a
boy  seriously  before  but  now  a  gorgeous  hunk  of
alpha male is telling me that he loves me. How did I
get  so  lucky?  I  throw  my  arms  around  his  neck,
pressing a big kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” I declare. “But now we have

to talk.”

Patrick stares at me.
“Sweetheart, we’re on the roof of someone’s

house in the middle of the night. It’s freezing right
now. Can’t we talk some other time?”

I nod.
“I know. But there are also no distractions up

here,

and

that’s

important

because

this

conversation is important. You love me, and I love
you, and we need to talk more about what that
means.”

My boyfriend looks completely befuddled.
“How can it be so complicated though? And

why now, sweetheart? Seriously, it’s freezing. Can’t
we talk about things over dinner or something?”

I shake my head, sitting down so that we’re

hidden behind the Santa.

“Nope, now is good. When we usually talk, we

get  distracted  by  you  know  what.  Pretty  soon,
we’re  necking  and  making  out,  and  I  can’t  even
remember  my  own  name  because  I’m  coming  so
hard.”

He thinks for a moment and then nods,

dropping down to sit by me.

“You’re right, honey. I love those lush curves,

and love to defile them even more. I guess if it
takes sitting on top of a roof on a cold winter’s
night to stop me from touching you, then so be it.”

I giggle again.
“You’re right, although I do love being defiled.

Now, where were we? Oh yes. I wanted to talk
about birth control, Patrick.”

My boyfriend grows serious.
“Yes, of course. We’ve been good about it. I’ve

been pulling out every time we’re together.”

I fix him with a hard look.
“You haven’t, Patrick. You don’t pull out a lot

of the time, and even when you do, it’s basically at
the last minute. I swear, a few spurts get in before
you’re out all the way.”

His handsome face takes on a look of

innocence.

“What can I say, honey? You feel so good that

it’s come as a surprise to me too. Before you, I was
always in perfect control. I pulled out in the nick of
time like a machine, but ever since you’ve come
around, it’s been really difficult. You just feel so
amazing, and you’re so ripe and fertile –”

“That’s it, exactly,” I interrupt. “I’m fertile,

Patrick and even more so now because I’ve gotten
healthy. I’m only twenty-five, and I never miss my
period. It comes like clockwork which means that
my body is working just fine. If even a drop of you
gets in me at the right time in my cycle, you know
what’s going to happen.”

He grows serious.
“You’ll be pregnant.”

I nod.
“Yes, and we’re not ready to be parents,

Patrick. Heck, we only just said “I love you” to one
another tonight. So how can we entertain the
thought of a child?”

I expect Patrick to agree wholeheartedly, but he

merely shrugs and shoots me a cocky grin.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound so bad to have

a baby together, does it?”

My heart does about three cartwheels in a row

as my stomach drops to my feet.

“What?” I stammer.
He shrugs again, a devilish look on that

handsome face. His outline is dark in the night sky,
but it’s huge and pulses heat even through the cold
air.

“It doesn’t seem so bad to have a baby

together,”  he  repeats  in  a  deceptively  casual  tone.
“I’m  thirty  to  your  twenty-five,  honey,  and  I’m
ready  to  be  a  daddy,  if  that’s  what’s  in  store  for
me.”

I can hardly breathe as my heart pitter-patters

at a rapid pace.

“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?” he shrugs. “I’d love to have a baby

with you, Maisie. You’d be a wonderful mommy.”

The air whooshes out of my lungs.
“But how?” I ask plaintively. “I mean, of

course the biology is pretty easy. But we’re just so

… I don’t know. Unprepared?”

He grins again while taking my trembling hand

in his own.

“Speak for yourself, sweetheart. I’m prepared.

If anything, I’d love to see you grow even rounder
with my child, and you know what? I’ve always
wanted to have a brood of rugrats. What do you
say to three or four children? Or even five?”

I’m completely taken aback even as my heart

leaps with joy and wonder. After all, I’d love to
have a child with this handsome, commanding man.
He’s already done wonders for my self-esteem and
body-image, and I know he’d be a great father too.
I squeeze Patrick’s hand tentatively with my own.

“But are you sure?” I ask in a whisper. “You

know, once we have a baby, we can’t go back. We
can’t return him to the stork.”

“I’m sure,” he says in a serious tone. “But I

understand if you don’t want to have one right this
minute, and I understand if you’re afraid that the
pulling out method isn’t working too. Why don’t I
make you a deal?”

“What is it?” I ask, barely able to breathe. So

many  things  have  happened  tonight  and  I  can
hardly  process  it  all.  He’s  said  “I  love  you”  twice,
and  now  he’s  telling  me  that  he  wants  babies  with
me! Who would have guessed?

Patrick merely grins, reading my mind.
“Trust me, stranger things have happened,

Maisie.  You’re  a  very  attractive,  eligible  young
woman, so what man wouldn’t want you? But back
to my deal,” he continues. “I don’t love using birth
control  because  condoms  feel  disgusting,  and  I
know  the  thought  of  dousing  yourself  with
chemicals turns you off.”

I nod.
“But what else is there?”
He stares at me in the darkness, that handsome

profile arresting and completely still. I can’t read
his eyes, but the tension in his frame is palpable.

“We can do things the back way,” he says.

“Give me your bottom cherry, sweetheart, and you
won’t get pregnant that way.”

“What?” I gasp. “Oh my god! Only bad girls do

that!”

He nods, pulling me close so that I’m basically

in his lap now. One big hand coasts up beneath my
coat to cup a large breast, and that low voice
growls directly in my ear.

“Yes, but you’re my bad girl, aren’t you?

You’re my bad, bad, bad girl, and Santa’s going to
take your ass cherry for Christmas because of your
naughty deeds.”

Suddenly, heat washes over me in waves and

my bottom ring clenches in anticipation. Yes, I want
this, and with a deep kiss, Patrick sweeps me into
his strong arms as we begin our exploration
together.

PATRICK

can’t believe I’m doing this. I promised myself
that I’d go easy with Maisie because she’s a
sweet, innocent thing that doesn’t deserve to

lose her ass cherry on the roof of some random
stranger’s house during a cold winter night. Yet,
suddenly, I can’t wait any longer. I need in, and I’m
going to take her.

Fortunately, I’ve already scoped out the terrain,

and I stride a few steps with Maisie’s lovely weight
in  my  arms  before  clambering  into  Santa’s  sleigh.
It’s  a  huge  thing.  The  homeowners  spared  no
expense, and Santa and his transportation this year
are actually larger than life size. The sleigh has the
dimensions of a generous life raft, and even with St.
Nick  sitting  on  the  bench,  there’s  still  plenty  of
room  on  the  floor  of  the  sleigh  for  a  passionate
coupling.

“Oh my god,” whispers Maisie, breaking away

from our kiss for a moment. “Are we really going to
–?” is her unspoken question.

“Yes, we are,” I growl, lowering her to the

ground  before  stopping  to  whip  off  my  jacket  to
place  beneath  her.  “Daddy  needs  your  bottom
cherry,  baby  girl,  and  he  can’t  wait  anymore.  It’s
mine.”

She mewls a bit and looks around. Fortunately,

the walls of the sleigh are pretty high, so the people
looking up from below can’t see us. We’re basically
alone  in  our  aerie,  and  it’s  quite  cozy  too.  Again,
the  sides  of  the  sleigh  are  quite  high.  They  block
the  wind,  and  as  a  result,  we  have  our  own  little
nest to make love in.

“I know this isn’t what you envisioned,” I

growl. “But I need you now, honey. I need that
juicy bottom milking my shaft asap, and I can’t
wait.”

Maisie’s cheeks are flushed but she gets it

immediately and strips out of her clothes in a flash.
Oh my god, it’s really happening. I’m going to
claim this beautiful girl’s steamy brownie right here,
outdoors in December.

“I’ll make it quick,” I rasp. “Bend over.”
“What?” she squeals.
“Daddy has to get your ass ready first,” I growl.

“I’m going to work you open so that when my shaft
comes, you’re ready.”

Maisie trembles a bit, breasts bobbling, but then

she leans over, bracing her weight on her elbows.
Her bottom rises in the air and I twitch a bit at the
sight. Her white mounds are luscious and ripe,
bisected in the middle by a deep crack.

“Spread your cheeks,” I growl. “Take one in

each hand and pull yourself open for me.”

“What?” she squeals again, turning to look at

me with shocked eyes. But before I can repeat the
command, her small hands reach backwards and
grip a cheek in each palm before pulling them open
and revealing that tight, coffee-colored hole. Oh
shit. Here it is.

Like a desperate man, I lean forward and begin

to press kisses to her rim.

“Sweetheart, you taste so good,” I moan

deliriously. “So sweet.”

She moans as well, her eyes drifting shut.
“But how is that even possible?” she asks. “It’s

dirty back there!”

“It’s not dirty,” I rasp before easing my tongue

into her dark channel. She squeals, jolting a bit, as I
sample the muskiness of her back end. “If I want
you to come with my tongue here, then you’re
going to come, hear?”

But Maisie’s too far gone now. What we’re

doing is too filthy for the innocent girl to fathom,
and with a jerk and a high shriek, she explodes on
my face. Her chamber spasms around my tongue as

her pussy pulses and drips, the fluid begging to be
licked.

However, I keep my tongue firmly planted in

her  backside  because  she  needs  to  get  used  to  the
sensation  of  a  man  in  here.  When  she’s  done  with
her  mewling  and  crying,  I  pull  out,  savoring  the
nasty sight. Her  brownie  blinks  at  me,  relaxed  and
as loose as it’s going to get right now.

“Do you like this?” I growl, lining up behind her

before pressing my enormous head against that tiny
hole. “Is this what dirty girls crave?”

“Oh, it is,” she moans, her lashes fluttering shut

once more. “Give it to me, Daddy St. Nick.”

With that, I slide deep inside of her bottom

hole, and to my surprise, Maisie takes it all with a
long, drawn out ooohhh!

“You’re a butt slut, you know?” I rasp, once my

full length is embedded in her tight peach. “Taking
Daddy’s length all in one go like that. Only bad girls
are able to do that.”

She moans again and wriggles a bit, making me

jerk.

“I know, Daddy, and I’m your naughty girl.

Now come in me, like you said you would.”

With that, I begin deep, satisfying pounds in

and out of that tiny bottom. She wriggles and mewls
a bit, but then holds still, enjoying the thorough
drill. Her fingers curl with ecstasy, even as those
huge breasts sway.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, oh YES! So GOOD!” she

screams  into  the  night  sky.  My  woman’s  ecstasy
propels me into the stratosphere as well, and with a
roar,  I  explode  into  her  chamber,  dousing  her  with
male jism. Maisie  clenches  and  clamps,  pulling  my
seed deep into that sweet, fertile body, even if this
time, it’s not going into the right hole.

But that’s what my love doesn’t realize. I want

to get Maisie pregnant. Seeing my woman grow
heavy with my baby is absolutely on the agenda,
and the sweet girl just doesn’t know it yet.

MAISIE

open the door to the school auditorium with a
cheerful smile.

“Hi Mrs. James,” I say to the elderly lady

on my right. “I didn’t know you were coming
tonight.”

Mrs. James bobs her purple-tinted hair and

limps in with her cane.

“Thank you, dearie. Yes, I always come to City

Council meetings because a lot of important things
happen each month! Is this your first?”

“It is,” I confirm with a smile. “But I’m really

looking forward to it because I’m interested in the
development of our town, and this is the place
where things happen.”

Of course, I don’t tell Mrs. James that the real

reason I’m here is because my boyfriend’s
application for a business permit will be heard by

the Council tonight. I’m extraordinarily excited and
here to support Patrick in his commercial venture.
When he first told me about his supplements line, I
was amazed and in awe.

“I didn’t even know this was in the works,” I

said, stammering a bit. “What an incredible idea.”

He grinned, gripping my hand tightly.
“I know, but a lot of fitness entrepreneurs have

had  the  same  thought.  We  all  want  to  get  into
supplements  because  that’s  where  the  real  money
is.  Think  about  it,  baby.  I’m  only  one  man,  so  I
have  limited  time  to  see  clients  for  personal
training.  But  the  supplements  won’t  be  like  that.
Potentially,  we’ll  be  able  to  sell  an  unlimited
amount,  both  through  my  shop,  my  on-line  store,
here at the gym, and also on various platforms. I’ve
already  applied  for  a  vendor  account  on  Amazon,
and I just got approved.”

“That’s amazing,” I breathe, my eyes wide.

“But what sets your supplements apart from
others? The field must be so crowded.”

Patrick nods seriously.
“Good question. I put a lot of thought into this,

and  it’s  the  fact  that  every  single  part  of  my
supplements  is  natural  and  organic.  Did  you  know
that the shells encasing vitamins are often made of
artificial  ingredients?  Sometimes  there’s  even
plastic  in  there.  It’s  soluble  plastic,  but  it’s  still  a
man-made  material.  But  my  supplements  are

different. They’re Mr. P approved, and they’ll do
your body and the Earth good.”

I clapped my hands with enthusiasm.
“Okay, sign me up. I’m your first customer.”
Patrick threw his head back and laughed,

squeezing my thigh with approval.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to make you buy

my  stuff  because  for  you,  it’s  all  free.  In  fact,
you’re  an  example  of  what  dedication  and  hard
work  look  like,  Maisie.  You’re  fit,  fabulous  and
absolutely glowing with health. Heck, you could be
a model for my supplements line.”

I flushed because my boyfriend was just kidding

around.  I’m  nowhere  near  model-shape.  In  fact,
I’m  pretty  much  the  opposite.  Although  Patrick
doesn’t realize it yet, I’m actually pregnant, which
is  part  of  the  reason  why  I’m  glowing.  My  cheeks
are round and pink, and my belly is already bulging
just the tiniest bit from our child.

But no one knows because I’ve always been a

big  girl,  and  so  my  curves  are  expected.  Personal
training hasn’t caused me to lose any weight at all,
but  I’m  not  disappointed  because  Patrick  has
helped  me  change  my  mindset  so  that  I’m  more
focused on being strong and healthy, as opposed to
being

slim.

He’s

such

groundbreaking

entrepreneur, and so supportive too. I can’t wait to
tell him the news that he’s going to be a daddy
soon.

But my parents are another story. Lorraine and

Henry  should  be  over  the  moon  because  for  the
first time in my life, I have a boyfriend. This is why
they  got  me  the  personal  training  sessions  in  the
first place: so  that  I  could  slim  down  and  attract  a
man.  But  when  I  told  them  I  was  dating  Patrick,
they were curiously unenthusiastic. In fact, I almost
thought they didn’t hear me at first.

“Mom, Dad, I have a boyfriend. A real

boyfriend, and it’s my personal trainer from the
gym. Remember him? Patrick.”

My dad squinted at me while shaking out his

paper.

“You mean from Mr. P’s CrossFit? That guy?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes, Patrick is Mr. P, get it? P is for Patrick.”
My dad smiled vaguely.
“Oh right. How are those personal training

sessions working out for you?”

“Fabulous!” I enthused while doing a twirl.

“Patrick has whipped me into great shape, and
even better, we’ll be moving in together soon. Isn’t
that what you wanted?”

Before Henry could speak, Lorraine butted in.
“But honey, isn’t this happening really fast?

You did just meet him, after all.”

I stare at her.
“Mom, the reason you bought me personal

training sessions is so that I could meet a guy. And

now I have! Sure, I know you didn’t expect my
new guy to be the personal trainer himself, but why
does that matter? I’m going to move out, and get
out of your hair. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Lorraine hemmed and hawed while looking

down at her hands. Finally, she let out a huge sigh
and met my eye.

“It’s just happening so quickly, Maisie, and we

want  what’s  best  for  you,”  she  said  as  my  dad
nodded  in  agreement.  I  was  completely  floored.
Why weren’t they raising the rafters with cheers? I
thought that me moving out was their ultimate goal
so  that  I  could  go  on  to  have  a  “meaningful  life”
following “a woman’s natural path.” Their goals for
me  had  actually  come  true,  so  why  weren’t  they
more enthusiastic?

But I couldn’t get Lorraine and Henry to do

anything but nod distantly, even as I began to pack
up  my  childhood  bedroom.  Who  knows?  My
parents  have  always  been  strange  people,  and  this
was  just  the  latest  twist  in  their  idiosyncratic
behavior.

Patrick assured me not to think twice about it
“Trust me, baby girl, it’s about money and

nothing more.”

I squint at him.
“What? They’re not paying you money to date

me, are they?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“No of course not. Your parents are just

protective of their daughter, that’s all. They want
what’s best for you, and that means marrying their
daughter off to a man who will take care of her
financially.”

I shake my head.
“Yes, but isn’t that so old-fashioned? We’re not

living in eighteenth century England where women
don’t have jobs anymore. In fact, I’m going on my
fifth year as a vet tech now.”

My lover grinned.
“Of course your parents’ thinking is outmoded,

but it’s just a reflex. Plus, it doesn’t help that they
likely believe that I’m a pauper literally selling my
body and know-how in order to make money. I did
pose as a fitness model for Men’s Muscle last year,
remember.”

I shivered hotly, seeing the spread in my mind’s

eye.

“Yes, but you looked amazing in the magazine,

Patrick. You look incredibly yummy now, and
what’s wrong with being a male model? You’re
studly and muscly, and I love it so much.”

Patrick arched his eyebrow at me, grinning.
“Can’t get enough of my candy cane, can you,

Maisie?”

I shake my head enthusiastically.
“Definitely not. Who could resist?” I tease. “So

why don’t my parents appreciate my hunky stud

muffin?”

Patrick makes a funny face.
“Well, I hope they don’t see me as a hunky stud

muffin because that would be gross. But in general,
people don’t want their daughters dating a male
model. It’s just not seen as a “man’s job.””

I nod.
“Another outmoded idea.”
He shrugs.
“Yes, but what can we do? Your folks are the

products of another time and age.”

I smile sassily.
“We could tell them about your new

supplements line, and how you’re going to take
over the world selling them.”

He grins and rubs my back affectionately.
“I appreciate your support Maisie, but I haven’t

told  anyone  about  my  new  business  venture,  not
even  my  parents.  So  let’s  keep  it  on  the  downlow,
otherwise there will be too much pressure. I want to
do  well,  don’t  get  me  wrong,  but  there  are  no
guarantees  in  the  business  world.  It’s  competitive
out there, with a lot of sharks looking for prey.”

I nod in agreement, but inside, my heart is

bursting with joy. I’m so proud of this man, and I
support his hopes, dreams, and aspirations. I never
thought I’d be with someone who dreams such big
dreams, and I’m ecstatic that he’s going to be the
father of my child.

Smiling still, I sit down on a hard bench in the

packed  school  auditorium,  looking  around.  There’s
Mrs. James chatting with the elderly Mrs. Peckham.
There’s  Mayor  Jones,  scribbling  something  on  a
piece  of  paper  at  the  front.  Then  the  door  opens,
and  my  parents  enter.  What?  I  wave,  a  little
surprised. Why are they here?

But Lorraine and Henry don’t see me, and they

move somberly to a bench at the front, taking their
seats with their backs to me. Hmm, weird. Maybe
they’re planning on renovating the house, and need
to get a permit? I have no idea. I’ve been so caught
up in my own life recently, that I haven’t noticed
much outside of the little bubble that Patrick and I
exist in.

Suddenly, the banging of a gavel sounds and

Mayor Jones takes a seat at the front of the hall.
The City Council members walk to the front of the
auditorium as well, and take their seats along a
long, narrow table fitted with mics.

“Hi everyone,” Mayor Jones greets. “Thanks

for joining us at our monthly City Council meeting.
There are a few things on the agenda tonight, and
we’ll be going through them one by one.”

The crowd nods and I zone out as the Council

discusses various zoning changes, the flow of traffic
near the Tremont intersection, and the new
children’s wing of the library. I smile to myself,
rubbing my belly absentmindedly, as if saying hello

to my baby. He or she will be born in my
hometown, and I can’t wait to meet him or her.

But then the gavel strikes with a bang, and I

jerk a bit.

“The next item on the agenda is a business

permit for a new business downtown called Mr. P’s
CrossFit Supplements. Patrick Walker is here to
give us an overview of his plans and to explain how
this business will add value to our downtown.”

My heart bursts with pride as Patrick appears

from  a  side  door  and  strides  to  the  front  of  the
room. He’s so handsome in a blue blazer and fitted
trousers,  with  those  arresting  azure  eyes,  chiseled
jaw,  and  incredible  physique.  His  voice  is  low  and
deep as he begins speaking.

“Mr. Mayor, City Council, thank you for having

me. As you know, I’m already the proprietor of Mr.
P’s  CrossFit  gym  on  the  east  side  of  town,  and
we’re  doing  quite  well.  I’m  here  to  apply  for  a
business  permit  to  open  a  related  business  which
will  sell  vitamins  and  supplements,  also  branded
with the Mr. P name. My  new  shop  will  add  value
to our town because—”

But then, to everyone’s shock, my dad gets up

and states in a flat tone, “I oppose this business.”

Mayor Jones is flustered.
“I’m sorry, Henry, but there’s a time for

questions, and that time isn’t now. If you’d save
your comments for the fifteen minutes at the end –”

But my dad won’t have it.
“No. This man doesn’t deserve a business

license. In fact, he deserves to have his current
license taken away, and to be run out of this town
because he’s violated my sweet daughter, Maisie.”

A gasp arises as shocked townspeople swivel

around to look at me. I gasp, my face draining of all
color.  What’s  going  on?  My  parents  have  never
“liked”  Patrick,  that’s  true,  but  they  never
mentioned  hating  him  either.  Nonetheless,  my  dad
continues in a flat, dead monotone.

“My wife, Lorraine, and I purchased personal

training  sessions  for  our  one  and  only  daughter,
Maisie. We thought it would be a good way to help
her  lose  weight  and  feel  great.  Unfortunately,  this
man took advantage of her. He seduced her during
a  training  session  and  violated  her  multiple  times
after that.”

Okay, this is getting crazy. Maybe the words my

dad are saying have a little bit of truth in them, but
“violating” is going way beyond the pale. I stand
up, about to defend my boyfriend, but my mom
jumps in then. Lorraine’s face is pale, strained, and
to my horror, tears brim in her eyes.

“I second my husband. This man has engaged

my daughter in amoral behavior that’s absolutely
transgressive,” she says, her voice breaking. “And
we have proof. I beg you to listen before
considering any action on Patrick Walker’s behalf.”

What the hell? What’s going on? Have my

parents  gone  insane?  But  at  that  moment,  the
screen at the front of the school auditorium flickers
to  life,  and  to  my  horror,  my  face  appears  on  the
flat surface. But it’s not just any candid shot of me.
My  expression  is  delirious  with  ecstasy  and  it’s
clear  that  I’m  moaning  with  pleasure  as  my  lashes
flutter  and  lips  part.  Then,  a  man’s  hand  extends
onto the screen and begins touching me. You can’t
see  his  face,  but  there’s  the  edge  of  a  broad,
bronzed  shoulder  and  a  shock  of  dark  hair,  with  a
low  voice  rasping,  “Come  for  me  baby.  Come  for
Daddy, sweetheart.”

Holy shit! It’s video from the time when Patrick

and I made love in Santa’s sleigh while viewing the
holiday lights. Fake white snow falls around us, but
it’s  not  enough  to  obliterate  the  naughty,  X-rated
action.  Then,  to  my  horror,  more  of  our  bodies
come into view, and you can see Patrick pounding
away at me as I mewl and pant, my expression one
of pure need. The  only  thing  blocking  our  privates
from  the  viewer’s  eyes  is  Rudolph’s  nose.
Evidently,  there  was  a  hidden  camera  somewhere
on  the  roof,  but  the  fake  Rudolph  was  in  the  way
and a big red bulb sits in the middle of the screen,
preventing the City Council from seeing my private
parts.

Oh my god! How is this happening? I jump up,

trembling like crazy, and begin to scream.

PATRICK

here the fuck did Maisie’s parents get
this video? Suddenly, I have a sinking
sensation that Lorraine and Henry

have  known  about  everything  from  the  very
beginning.  They  probably  know  that  I  took
advantage  of  their  daughter  during  her  very  first
personal training session; that we’ve been enjoying
each  other’s  bodies  non-stop  since  then;  and
obviously,  the  fact  that  I  claimed  their  daughter’s
anal  cherry  during  a  holiday  spectacular  because
it’s right here on camera.

But where the fuck did they get this video?

Within seconds, Lorraine Handle answers my
question. With tears in her eyes, she speaks loud
enough for the entire auditorium to hear.

“Our friends, the Valencias, live on Tremont

Street, which puts on a holiday light show each

year.  Many  of  you  have  likely  seen  it.  It’s  a
wonderful  experience,  and  this  year,  the  Valencias
did their house up with Santa and his sleigh on the
roof.  Of  course,  they  installed  cameras  all  over
their  property  because  the  decorations  are
expensive  and  quite  elaborate.  Imagine  my  shock
and  horror  when  Trudy  Valencia  called  me  and
informed  me  that  there  was  tape  of  my  daughter
having  sex  on  the  roof  of  their  home  by  the  very
man I hired as her personal trainer!”

I gape. The video has thankfully come to a

pause,  although  you  can  still  see  Maisie’s  mouth
open  in  an  ecstatic  scream  as  I  grip  her  hips  from
behind.  Fortunately,  Rudolph’s  red  nose  blocks
exactly where our bodies meet, so at least you can’t
tell  that  I’m  giving  it  to  her  in  her  backdoor.  At
least, I hope not.

But Lorraine continues.
“We trusted him!” she cries in an agitated

voice. “How could you, Mr. P? We entrusted our
precious, darling daughter to you and then … this
happens!”

I’m about to speak but there’s no need because

Maisie leaps to her feet and begins defending me.

“It’s not like that!” she exclaims quickly while

turning  to  the  audience.  “Everything  is  being
mischaracterized.  Let  me  start  by  saying  I’m  no
young, innocent naïf. I’m a twenty-five woman and
I  have  a  full-time  job.  I  work  at  a  vet’s  office

downtown, and pay my taxes like an adult.”

The word “taxes” seems to shake the audience

out of its trance. At that moment, the screen
flickers off as well, giving me relief. No one needs
to see our naked bodies frozen on screen like that.
But my girlfriend continues, talking a mile a
minute.

“My parents are right. I met Patrick at his gym

as  a  result  of  the  personal  training  sessions  they
bought  for  me,  but  why  is  that  wrong?  I  wasn’t
taken  advantage  of.  I  wanted  it.  Plus,  I  willingly
went on several dates with him, as any young single
woman has the right to do. Yes, I still live at home,
but I’d ask you to ignore the comments of Lorraine
and  Henry.  I  love  my  parents,  but  they’re
misguided,  and  nothing  untoward  happened
between  Patrick  and  I.  In  fact,  I’m  pregnant  with
his child and proud to be carrying his baby.”

That causes another gasp of surprise to run

through the crowd. In fact, I can hardly breathe
myself as the air escapes from my lungs. Is it true?
Maisie turns toward me with tears in her eyes.

“I’m having your baby,” she says in a voice that

carries.  “You  are  my  man,  Patrick  Walker,  and  I
couldn’t  be  more  proud  to  be  with  you.  You
deserve to get this business permit, and I know that
both  your  supplements  store  and  your  gym  will
thrive. You  are  the  man  for  me,  Patrick,  and  I  am
your woman.”

Heart thumping, I can barely breathe for a

moment. But then I literally leap over several rows
of chairs like Superman before dashing to my girl
and pulling her into my arms.

“I love you,” I growl fiercely into Maisie’s ear.

“Fuck this permit. Fuck this town. As long as I
have you and the baby, that’s enough for me.”

The rest of the world seems to dissolve into a

blur of nothingness as my beautiful girl smiles up at
me with tears in her eyes.

“Do you mean it, Patrick?” she asks. “You’re

not angry that I’m pregnant?”

I shake my head.
“How can you even think that, sweetheart? I’m

lucky to have you, and we’re blessed to be
expecting. You’re the best holiday gift that I could
ever have, and I thank my lucky stars that your
parents brought you into my life.”

She sniffles a little.
“Are you mad at Lorraine and Henry?”
I think for a moment.
“This is a conversation for another time

because  people  are  watching,  baby  girl,”  I  say,
jerking  my  head  over  my  shoulder,  indicating  the
audience.  “But  no,  I  don’t  think  I  am.  They’re
misguided  but  they  just  want  the  best  for  you,
sweetheart.  They  don’t  realize  that  I  treasure  you
and  our  child  above  all  else,  and  that  no  matter
what  happens,  I  will  always  put  your  needs  first.

Will you marry me, Maisie? Because  these  are  the
words  that  have  been  circling  in  my  head  for  a
while  now.  I  love  you,  and  the  baby  brings
everything  together.  Please  say  yes,  honey,  and
make this the best Christmas ever.”

Tears really begin to fall from my girl’s

beautiful brown eyes then, but they’re tears of joys.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” she whispers,

pulling me close for a kiss. And at that moment, my
life  becomes  complete.  I  have  Maisie,  we’re
expecting  a  baby,  and  what  else  could  a  man  ask
for?  My  business  can  wait  because  Santa’s  given
me  a  wondrous  gift,  and  I  intend  to  cherish  our
relationship until the end of my days.

EPILOGUE

MAISIE

month later.

I’m visibly pregnant now, and Patrick

adores my baby bump. My husband rubs

my belly with delight, running his huge palm over
the gentle swell.

“Do that too much and the baby will want a

massage after he’s born,” I joke while lying on my
back. “He’s getting so used to your through-the-
belly massages.”

Patrick merely growls.
“It’s okay. This is a way for babies to get to

know their father. Have you talked to the Valencias,
by the way?”

I swallow, carefully thinking about how to

answer.

“Yes. Well, sort of. Okay, no. I talked with our

attorney again, and he said they’re still in

negotiations with the Valencias about getting the
videotapes into our possession. Evidently, there was
more than one camera fixed on that stupid Santa
sleigh, so there I guess there’s an entire archive of
our activities that night.”

Patrick shakes his head with disbelief.
“Who would have guessed? Why are they so

paranoid?”

I shrug.
“It’s like my parents said. I guess the Christmas

decorations cost a fortune, and they wanted to keep
an eye on them. Allegedly, the Valencias spent
thirty thousand on that diorama, so I guess it makes
sense that they want to keep tabs on their
investment.”

Patrick snorts again.
“Who knew they were friends of your parents

too?”

I nod.
“I know. I guess they met during a Tony

Robbins motivational conference, and were
delighted to find out that they lived in the same
town.”

My husband shakes his head again.
“But how did they recognize that it was you? I

mean, you didn’t go to that conference too, did
you?”

I shrug with exasperation.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be caught dead at

one  of  those  things.  Evidently,  the  Valencias’  dog
came  in  to  see  the  vet  a  couple  times,  and  they
spoke  with  me.  To  be  honest,  Patrick,  I  remember
their  dog  just  fine.  Marshall  is  a  beautiful
Dalmation with distinctive markings. But you know
how  I  am  with  dog  owners;  I  can’t  recognize
another human for the life of me.”

My husband merely chuckles and rubs my belly

again.

“The Valencias are weird.”
“You can say that again. Hey, if you keep

rubbing  my  belly  like  that,  I’m  going  to  think
you’re  doing  it  for  good  luck  just  like  with  the
Buddha  statues!”  I  exclaim.  The  dark  man  growls
deep inside his chest.

“I am doing it for good luck, baby girl. You and

the baby are my good luck charms.”

I giggle but then get serious.
“But anyways, yes, I think we’re going to be

able to get the tapes, no thanks to my parents.
Lorraine and Henry are insane, and I’ve just about
given up on them.”

That’s one of the saddest developments in my

life  thus  far.  Despite  the  fact  that  I  leapt  to  my
husband’s defense in front of a packed auditorium,
my parents haven’t come around. They continue to
think  that  Patrick  is  an  older  man  who
inappropriately  seduced  a  young  virgin  despite  the
fact that I’m a fully-actualized twenty-five-year-old

woman.

As a result, we haven’t spoken with them in the

month that’s passed since that fateful City Council
meeting, although there have been signs of a break
in the ice recently. My mom asked my aunt to ask
me for a picture from my latest ultrasound, which I
suppose is a roundabout way to establish a
connection again.

But I haven’t forgotten what Lorraine and

Henry  did  because  their  actions  were  ridiculous.
And  taking  things  to  a  public  stage  like  that  in  the
hopes  of  tanking  my  husband’s  business  is  going
beyond  the  pale.  As  a  result,  it’s  going  to  require
more than sharing a few ultrasounds to re-establish
the trust between us. Lorraine and Henry are on my
naughty  list  this  year,  and  maybe  after  the  baby’s
born,  I’ll  relent  and  let  them  see  their  grandchild.
For now, though, I haven’t gotten over the hurt.

Regardless, my parents’ efforts to bring down

Patrick’s business did not succeed. In fact, the
notoriety surrounding that City Council meeting
spread, and pretty soon, there was a huge increase
in foot traffic at the gym. Patrick had to extend Mr.
P’s open hours and hire a few more trainers just to
handle the additional interest.

Not to mention that he hasn’t given up on the

supplements business. In fact, the opposite. Maybe
he hasn’t gotten his permit yet, but we’re selling the
supplements on-line already, for which no permit is

needed, and the goods are flying off the shelves like
hotcakes.

Who knew? Maybe it’s the image of my

handsome husband gazing from the label that does
it. After all, Patrick is gorgeous, fit, and absolutely
breathtaking. Men definitely want to look like him,
so  they’re  buying  his  products  in  an  attempt  to
replicate his success, and I consider myself lucky to
be  his  wife.  We  had  a  quickie  ceremony  in  Vegas,
which was fast but romantic, and just right in every
way. My diamond glints from my finger and with a
teasing  smile,  I  slip  it  off  and  hand  the  item  of
jewelry to my husband.

“Give it to me,” I breathe. “Along with your

candy cane.”

Patrick grins because he knows what I want.
“Flip over and spread,” is that low command.

“Let me see your sweetness.”

With a moan of anticipation, I do as told while

hitching my skirt over my bottom. My panties are
drenched already and with one quick snap of his
wrist, Patrick pulls them off.

“Oh!” I squeal.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patrick rumbles, his

eyes fierce with love. “Daddy knows what you
want.”

With that, he eases his giant candy cane into my

sopping slit and I cry out with pleasure. This is what
I need: ten inches of thickness penetrating my small

hole, and I cry out again, my eyes drifting shut. But
then Patrick strokes over my crack, teasing my
brown hole open with his fingers before worming a
digit deep inside.

“You ready, sweetheart?”
I moan and mewl, trying to inhale in

preparation for what’s going to happen next.

“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”
Patrick lets out a rough chuckle and slips his

finger out before inserting the diamond into my
back chamber. The stone has hard edges and I
shriek with pleasure as the facets massage the walls
of my bottom cavern.

“Ooooh!” I wail. “Yes, yes, yes! So GOOD!”
With that, the double penetration does its work

and I burst into flames while sailing over the moon.
My two holes contract and convulse, pulling
Daddy’s candy cane deeper as he explodes with
male need.

“FUCK!” is his conquering roar. “Oh shit!”
I clamp down on him, pulling both the candy

and  the  diamond  deeper,  along  with  his  seed.
There’s  so  much  that  the  male  batter  spills  out
between us, dripping down my thighs and coursing
over  his  balls.  But  this  is  what  I  want  and  crave:
Patrick in me, with our lives and bodies now joined
as one.

The End

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Next up: A Sneak Peek of Daddy’s Christmas

Gift. My professor has a special gift in store for

me this year, but I have to unwrap his package

to find out what it is.

SNEAK PEEK: DADDY’S CHRISTMAS

GIFT

ARIA

Will  Aria’s  handsome,  hunky  professor  be  able
to  keep  his  hands  off  the  curvy  girl?  It’s  a
forbidden  professor-student  romance  filled  with
pleasure.

I knock hesitantly on the wooden door again.
There’s a frosted pane of glass in the middle of the
door, but the shade on the other side is drawn,
rendering it dark.

“Professor Moore?” I call. “It’s office hours,

isn’t it? It’s Aria Nelson.”

Suddenly, the door opens so quickly that I step

back  with  surprise.  Or  maybe  it’s  the  fact  that
Professor Moore is absolutely huge, close-up and in
person. After  all,  I’ve  always  watched  him  from  a
distance  as  a  figure  at  the  front  of  the  classroom.
But  now  that  the  man  is  before  me,  a  mere  three

feet away, the air zooms from my lungs as I tilt my
head up to gaze into those navy blue eyes.

Because Roland must be six three at least. He

towers over me, his large bulk looming over my
small one. He seems to blot out the light within, and
his shoulders are so wide that they appear to reach
from one side of the doorframe to the other. But
then he steps aside to let me in, and grins, flashing
bright white teeth.

“Hi Aria,” he says mildly. “Just in time. It’s two

on the dot, and I was just about to open my door.”

I step in hesitantly and look around. His office

is tiny, but it’s to be expected. This building hasn’t
been upgraded in years, and the dilapidation shows.
There’s  one  tiny  window  up  high  behind  his  desk,
but  all  it  reveals  are  the  green  leaves  of  a  massive
bush.  A  metal  desk  is  positioned  in  front  of  the
window, and there’s a chair in front of the desk for
visitors as well as a cheery red rug on the floor. But
what  takes  my  breath  away  are  the  shelves  and
shelves  of  books  lining  the  walls  because  Roland
Moore obviously reads a lot. Even though this is a
small  space,  he’s  outfitted  his  office  such  that  all
four  walls  have  floor  to  ceiling  shelving  crammed
full of all sorts of novels.

“Wow,” I breathe, stepping inside. “Are these

all yours?”

He chuckles while shutting the door behind me.
“Most,” he acknowledges. “Fiction and non-

fiction both. Sometimes I read some non-fiction,
but it’s strictly for pleasure. For work, it’s all
fiction.”

I laugh, seating myself in the chair before his

desk.

“That’s funny because for most people it’s the

opposite. Professional reading is usually boring
non-fiction, while people read novels for fun in
their spare time.”

Roland quirks a grin at me and takes a seat

behind his desk. The light in the office is bright, but
it’s  warm  at  the  same  time  and  casts  his  skin  in
shades  of  bronze.  My  mouth  goes  dry  when  I  see
the  slight  vee  of  chest  revealed  at  the  collar  of  his
shirt, and the strong neck rising up above it. Oh my
gosh,  am  I  actually  going  daffy  at  the  sight  of  a
man’s neck? Am I that desperate?

The truth is, yes. Because while Elisa drags me

to a lot of parties, I don’t exactly date. Sure, there
are  boys  hovering  around  at  the  edges  of  my  life,
and  I  even  went  with  George  Littles  to  that
fraternity  dance  last  year.  But  nothing  happened
because  George  was  too  awkward.  He  kept  trying
to  carry  a  conversation,  but  puberty  came  late  for
him  and  his  voice  would  crack  embarrassingly  in
the  middle  of  every  other  sentence.  By  the  end  of
the night, I think he was happy to see me go, if only
so  that  he  could  go  back  to  his  room  and  let  his
vocal cords relax.

So the truth is that I don’t really date here at the

University of Rhode Island. Not that I want to. The
boys  that  Elisa  brings  home  when  she  thinks  I’m
sleeping are gross. They moan and bump around in
her tiny twin bed across the room, and most times, I
pretend  I’m  asleep.  There’s  nothing  sexy  about
teenage  boys  amped  up  high  on  testosterone,  I  tell
you.  The  longest  they  can  last  is  about  three
minutes, and that’s being generous.

But Professor Moore is the real thing. This is no

adolescent  boy  who’s  growing  into  his  features.
This is a true alpha male, with a piercing blue gaze,
and  a  sense  of  knowingness  about  him.  I  can
already  tell  that  Roland  knows  his  way  around
women  from  the  commanding  yet  relaxed  way  he
sits in his chair. Even the idle thrum of his fingertips
on  the  metal  desktop  reminds  me  that  I’m  here  to
see him, and that he’s the one in charge.

But Roland cracks another grin, even as the

blue of his eyes turns a deep navy.

“So Aria,” he begins casually. “What can I help

you with?”

I stammer a bit, flushing.
“Um, I thought you wanted to talk about The

Green Ribbon?” I ask hesitantly. “You know, the
first short story in Her Body.”

Nodding, Roland gazes away for a moment

while steepling his fingers.

“Yes,

that’s

right,”

says,

nodding

thoughtfully. “I liked your comment in class, and
wanted to probe further. Why did you say that the
author portrays the female protagonist as a wanton
woman? What made you think that?”

I gasp.
“I didn’t say she was wanton,” is my quick

reply. “In fact, I don’t think she’s a slut at all. She
was married to the man who pulled the green
ribbon.”

Roland quirks an eyebrow at me.
“You don’t think a married woman can be a

slut? Does a wedding certificate mean that a
woman can no longer be loose, so to say?”

I flush again, stammering a bit.
“Well, I’m not sure,” are my slow words. “I

suppose so. No, that doesn’t sound right. All I’m
saying is that the female character seems to be very
familiar with her own body, and makes it available
for her husband’s pleasure to do whatever he likes.
Is that going too far?”

Roland’s eyes gleam, and he leans forward a

bit, adjusting his weight.

“I don’t know. Is letting a man do what he

wants with your body going too far? I’m not sure
either.”

I nod, my heart racing at this titillating

conversation.

“I mean, on the one hand, the main character

maintains total control over her actions. She

chooses  what  to  give  to  her  husband,  and  shares
herself  with  him  unstintingly.  But  there  was  just
something  so  …  slutty  about  what  she  did,  don’t
you think? Do normal women do that?”

Roland leans forward again, a gleam in the

depths of his blue eyes. His shoulders look slightly
tense and very broad as his eyes scan my features.

“I’m not sure,” he says slowly. “Do you

consider yourself to be a normal woman?”

My cheeks color.
“Yes, of course,” I say in a rush. “I mean,

everyone  is  abnormal  in  some  way.  Take  my  hair,
for example. Most babies are born with blonde hair
and then it darkens as they age, but mine didn’t,” I
say,  blabbering  at  about  a  thousand  miles  an  hour.
“I’m still as fair as the day I was born, and in fact, I
think  my  hair’s  gotten  even  more  blonde  with
time.”

Roland’s eyes gleam again, but his expression

remains placid and neutral.

“Is that right, Aria? Could you take your hair

down to show me? I’m afraid I can’t tell very well
since it’s all twisted up right now.”

I flush. Somehow, this feels very intimate,

although I’m hardly Rapunzel letting down her hair
for a suitor.

“Oh sure,” I say while biting my lip. My heart’s

going a million miles an hour, and somehow, I’m
aroused and hot even though I’m not doing

anything but dismantling my bun. “No problem,
Professor.”

With trembling fingers, I reach up and fumble a

bit  before  sinking  my  fingers  into  the  elastic  and
pulling  it  from  my  tresses.  Immediately,  a  long  fall
of  gold  streams  from  my  crown  before  lying  in  a
river  against  my  back.  It  shimmers  and  waves
beneath the light, as if it has a life of its own.

“There it is,” I say with a small smile. “See? I

even have streaks of white, almost like an albino,” I
manage as a joke.

But Professor Moore is silent, and for a

moment,  I  think  I’ve  screwed  up.  Holy  shit,  I
probably  just  crossed  some  kind  of  unspoken
boundary,  and  he’s  going  to  report  me  to  the
authorities now. At  the  very  least,  things  are  going
to be extremely awkward from here on out.

But then, he gets up from his chair and circles

around until he’s standing behind me, his big bulk
large and imposing. Then he gets down on his knees
as I remain as still as a doe, and lightly trails a big
hand over my tresses.

“So beautiful,” he whispers. “You’re absolutely

gorgeous.”

My insides go hot and soft, and I inhale sharply.

Oh  my  gosh,  Professor  Roland  is  stroking  my  hair
gently  now  while  running  his  fingers  through  the
golden locks, and I’ve never been so aroused in my
life.  He  hasn’t  even  really  touched  me  yet,  and

suddenly, I know that I want to give my innocence
to him. I want him to take me right here, in his
office, and with a mewl, I turn slowly to face him.

“I’m yours, Professor,” I say softly. And then

echoing the character in the book, I add, “Use my
body as you see fit.”

The handsome instructor doesn’t even hesitate.

In  one  fell  swoop,  his  mouth  claims  mine,  his  lips
hard  and  demanding  as  my  soft  ones  part  beneath
his insistence. The  air  departs  from  my  lungs  even
as he pulls me against the massive wall of his chest.

“Are you sure, Aria?” he growls deep in his

throat before pulling away to stare in my eyes.
“Because once we go there, we’re not going back.”

I look into those navy depths for a moment, my

heart pounding. But I already know with a
womanly instinct that this is right. This man has
claimed me, and I am his woman.

“Yes, Professor Moore, I’m sure,” I murmur.

“Take me, because I’m yours.”

To be continued …

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