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The next morning, Peter jolted out of bed at three, to the alarm clock buzzing loudly. Turning the device off, he let his partner sleep. Devon simply rolled over and slept through the sound of the alarm, Peter’s fumbling with the clock, and his commotion in the closet while reaching for his robe.
Peter brewed the coffee and watched the morning news before showering, shaving, and ironing his clothes. He recalled their discussion the previous night. I wonder if he’s disappointed about not having a party this year.
Devon woke, shortly after Peter departed for work. He gradually opened his eyes, discovering the hunky Secret Santa, Erik, clad in his festive jockstrap, sitting beside him on the bed.
“I thought you were just a fantasy the first time, but you’re back just like you said.” Devon rubbed his tired eyes. “I’m failing at being a Secret Santa. Where have I gone wrong?”
“You haven’t failed yet.” the furry white man said. “Abide by his wishes. Don’t have the Christmas Eve party. Unless …” Erik paused, resting his head on the bedspread above Devon’s thigh.
“Are you suggesting I plan a party without Peter knowing?” Devon looked into Erik’s baby blue eyes, and thought, His eyes are as magnetic as Paul Newman’s. He has completely seduced me into obeying what he suggests. “So, do I plan a party, despite Peter’s wishes?”
“Only if you can do it without upsetting Peter. Do you think he might be able to unwind and enjoy his friends? You would have to do all the work secretively.”
“I’ll figure a way to plan the party and keep it a secret. I know he loves to party, especially when he doesn’t have to host it. I will host and do all the work.”
“I admire what you have done outside. It looks very festive. What about the Christmas tree? And your daily exercises? You have to tone that body. You can do it in two weeks but only if you get started right away. What else have you done?” The Secret Santa reclined on the bed next to Devon, wrapping his arm around him, affectionately.
“I have bought a few gifts for him along with the stocking stuffers.”
“Have you selected something erotic?”
“Well, yes.” Devon’s mood changed, his demeanor more spirited.
“Do tell me more.”
“There’s a French cock ring, and I bought dark chocolate, edible underwear for me to devour from him, strawberry talc to brush softly on his nips, ass and dick, and a bottle of Bolt Lube to massage his shaft with and in the crack of those magnificent hairy buns.”
“Did you get anything personal? I know you’ve bought something.” Erik’s hand began massaging Devon’s thigh from his knee to his groin.
Devon’s body tingled from Erik’s advances. “Yes,” he stuttered, “I found this baby blue, V-neck, cashmere sweater. It is so soft. It’s his favorite color, too. He had one similar, but moths ate a hole in it.”
“Fabulous! Did you get something for yourself? Something that might taunt him into frivolous foreplay?” Erik spread his hand under the sheet on Devon’s inner thigh, sensing his muscles tighten.
“Uh, yeah. I bought an apple pie bikini, his favorite dessert, to nibble from my crotch.” Devon trembled at Erik’s advances. His dick stiffened into erection.
“This all sounds sumptuous,” The Secret Santa laughed, teasing with a wide smile. His fingers danced gently up Devon’s thigh, just below his scrotum. “Did you buy an extra pair for me?”