Short Stories

Sister’s Xmas Present

Potluck Soup — Sister's Xmas Present Preview
PotluckSoup — Sister's Xmas Present

The figure in the driveway winced after loudly slamming their car door. It was a reflex, something they had been too tired to think about. Working at a bookshop was a good job but the holidays were busy and that was the reason for the shivering figure’s return late on Christmas Eve. People loved to buy books for their loved ones at Christmas and someone had to sell them.

Indeed, Holly had already purchased some books for her family using her staff discount. She hoped that her little sister wouldn’t take offense to the buying of a cook book for her. The youngest daughter of the Dale family was gaining a great love for cooking but her variety could be improved.

Holly wasn’t too worried about her gifts to her little sister. The secret ones she planned to give towards the end of Christmas Day would be more than enough. Ivy was quite easy to buy for, Holly thought fondly, clutching the Victoria’s Secret bag close to her work rucksack. She was not expecting to be intercepted by her parents but it was good to be careful.

Holly had managed to wrap the gifts in the break room while at work. Although she was worried someone would interrupt her, she had timed her break carefully. The other workers would not be able to slip away from their stations during this busy period.

She had been late purchasing these most secret gifts only because they had taken time to arrive at the store for Holly to collect. Holly locked her car and trudged through the snow towards the Dale family’s front door. It didn’t matter if it was later than she had planned. She had everything now and just needed to give it all over to her sister tomorrow.

The house was dark as she unlocked and opened the door. She closed it with as much secrecy and silence as she could.

Bending over to place her bags down and undo her thick, fluffy boots, Holly was grateful that the house was still warm. The heating seemed to have been turned off only recently.

The young woman gracefully pulled her boots and coat off and set them inside the downstairs bathroom, the light dusting on snow on them would do no harm in there and could be dried and cleaned when noise was permissible.

With bags clutched to her chest to prevent any rattling, the tartan-dress and reindeer-ear clad Holly ascended the stairs. With gentle footsteps she passed her parents’ bedroom, her father’s study and the turned the corner to pass the bathroom. Finally, she arrived at her and her sister’s bedroom. They’d always enjoyed being the furthest room from their parents and as they grew older, the utility of that separation had only increased.

Pushing open the door, Holly immediately knew something was off.
First was the wardrobe. As you entered the Dale sisters’ room, not that many entered often, you were always confronted with the gargantuan ceiling to floor wardrobe handmade by the girls’ father.

Great sliding, mirrored doors covering multiple racks and shelves stretched across almost the full length of the girls left wall. Its sliding doors were rarely so neatly closed. Shelves were frequently left open for use, slid to overlap each other exposing the girls’ clothing for all to see or slid so that one of the girls could admire their current outfit. Ivy was notorious for never sliding the doors so the whole wardrobe was closed, and yet, she was the only one who had been in the room today.

It is only near the opposing window that the wardrobe stops and is replaced with Ivy’s chair and desk. That was where the second clue to something being off was found. There was a desk, but no chair. Ivy’s chair, her prized gaming chair, reclining and silent (unlike Holly’s lesser used squeaky desk chair, near her bed), was not tucked neatly under her desk. It was in the center of the dark room and faint moonlight shining from the open windows behind silhouetted the chairs occupant.

There was a slight jump and then rushed movement behind the seated figure. A small click came from behind the chair’s occupant and then a small black box dropped gently as the wire was lowered at the behind the its user. A slight hum preceded a growing light, a twinkling orange glow from tens of tiny bulbs strung over the occupant. Between the snowy moonlight and the warm electric glow Holly could clearly see who sat in the chair.

Her legs were pulled underneath her to sit on, spread slightly, feet poking out the sides. Her hands were not visible as her arms disappeared behind her body. Holly drank in the crisscrossed lines of yellow lights and red ribbons that covered the nearly nude form in front of her. One ribbon ran from shoulder to thigh like a girl guide’s sash, barely coving the obvious bump and swell of one half of the girl’s chest. Another ran contrary to this modesty by running underneath the girl’s left breast, cupping it slightly and defining it for any viewer. Each thigh was capped with faux legging tops made by wraps of ribbons.

These sights Holly would all process over the night. Her immediate focus was to the ribbon around the girl’s neck, neatly tied into a double bow. The girl raised her head to look up, blinking slightly in the suddenly bright light. She looked as though she had just woken from a nap but the sleepy, happy, mischievous grin shone bright. Holly closed in and reached her hand up to caress the sleepy girl’s cheeks, brushing hair behind her ears. Peaking over her head, she spotted the tightly bound arms and wrists of her newly gifted captive.

She began straining and pushing upwards slightly and Holly stepped back before turning her gaze downward. The figures soft skin guided Holly to examine the hidden features of her new toy. Lifting herself off the chair with her legs, straining against the ribbons that held her down and held her legs to the chair she managed to rise high enough for Holly to have a look.
The puddle on the chair twinkled in the moonlight and the droplets on her inner thighs sparkled with the fairy lights. The small gap between chair and body was filled with the visible part of the large, thick, pink column that the girl had imbedded inside of herself.

She flopped back onto it with a sigh at the exertion and a hint of a squelch. A shiver ran up her body and her eyes fluttered in that blissed look Holly truly could never have enough of.

“How…” Holly started. “How long have you been like this?” She said gently running a hand along her gift’s collarbone and another across her stomach.
Ivy’s voice was a little hoarse so Holly quickly passed her the bottle from her bag. She gulped the water graciously, some spilling on her chin.

“I-I thought you were going to be back at 9pm?”

“No… 10pm. And it takes an hour to drive home pet.” Holly soothingly said before scooping and kissing the water that had spilt.

“Oh.”

“How long have you been like this?”

“Long enough for the vibrator in my butt to run out of charge.” Ivy replied meekly.

“Mum and Dad didn’t even come in here when they got back from their party.”

Holly smiled at her daring, creative, and naughty at heck little sister. Her eyes closed and she moved in, kissing up Ivy’s neck, her jawline and finally to her lips, where she met a hungry tongue. As they kissed Holly forcible moved her sister’s body around and felt the shudders as she gently shifted on the shaft inside her. Ivy hummed as they parted and Holly bit her lower lip.

Smiling at her big sis, Ivy asked “So… What do you think of your early Christmas present?”

Holly let her eyes drink up the sight of her. They rolled over every curve until the subject of her gaze was shaking with the intensity of the viewing.

She paused as if in thought, before leaning in again.

The rustle of a bag out of sight caught Ivy’s attention. Holly’s hand pulled the first item out of it and kissed her sister’s lips lightly.

“I love you. Merry Christmas Ivy.”

“Merry Chrisma—oh…”

About the Author

“Sister’s Xmas Present” was written by author FantasticFreedom98. Check out more of their stories with the Dale sisters, and many more, over on FantasticFreedom98‘s Literotica page or follow them on Twitter.

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