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Doing The Gingerbread Man: A Holiday Story

 

I had intended to bake gingerbread men for you lovely lot — you know something nice to share over our Christmas morning coffee. I’d never done it before, but I thought it would be fun. As with the best made plans, the undertaking turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than I had expected.  I found a recipe, made a grocery list and discovered that not a single grocery store in all Guildford had any ground ginger. Not one to be deterred, I decided to be a little more creative and make my gingerbread man fictional. I didn’t need ground ginger for that, and you can still have your Christmas morning coffee and enjoy my gingerbread man. The story is short, very sweet, and complete. Oh yes, and it’s plenty naughty.

 

 

Doing the Gingerbread Man

 

It might have been too much mulled wine, or perhaps a sugar high from eating damn near as much of my holiday baking as I … well as I baked. It might have been just a longing for a little bit of that holiday magic I remembered from my childhood. Whatever it was, on a whim, I decided to bake gingerbread men. I mean why should kids have all the fun. I was alone over the holiday and I had decided that I was going to make the best of it, that I was not going to feel sorry for myself. I was going to have a good time if it killed me, and that good time involved making, decorating, and eating gingerbread men.

The recipe I found online not only promised that my ginger bread men would be tasty, but that they would also be chewy. My mouth watered at the thought. I had all the ingredients, and in my cupboard I found red hots for buttons, dried cranberries for lips and slivered almonds for eyes, plus I had several tubes of icing in primary colors all ready and waiting to spiff up those men when I took them out of the oven.

The recipe was supposed to make sixteen gingerbread people – gender of your own choosing, but I never was great at following a recipe. I reckon they’re just guidelines anyway. Instead of the requisite sixteen biscuit boys, I opted for one giant, macho, gingerbread man, one that would fill the entire cookie sheet. By the time I had the dough mixed up, I’d switched from mulled wine to Prosecco. Truth be told, most ginger bread men were entirely too unmanly for my taste. I intended to create a testosterone charged, hunk of a gingerbread man, one that would seriously make my mouth water and give me something to wrap my lips around. I wanted my big GBM – something that size had to have a name — to have bulging biceps. I’m a commercial artist by trade because it pays the bills, but I’m artsy fartsy by nature, and well-shaped biceps and decent pecs and abs sculpted from liberally-sampled ginger cookie dough were not beyond my artistic abilities. Strangely enough the more Prosecco I sipped, the more creative I became. In no time at all I decided GBM didn’t need red hots for buttons because GBM wasn’t going to wear a shirt. I was having visions of Magic Mike by the time I got down to GBM’s trousers. I had plans for a little blue frosting thong with just enough pouch to cover GBM’s junk. But then I decided maybe I didn’t want said junk covered. After all this was a private performance for an audience of one. “It’ll be much easier for me to eat you and taste your yummy gingery goodness without frosting,” I said to my creation. “Besides who needs all those extra calories?” I could almost swear I heard a low throaty moan, but then more than likely it was my own. I raised my glass to my buffed biscuit boy feeling a bit like Dr. Frankenstein in her laboratory as I polished off the glass, rubbed my hands together and went to work on making sure GBM was … um…err … anatomically correct.

When a girl has her hands on a man’s cock, and she gets the feel for it, the shape of it, the way it responds to her touch, well how can she not get a little wet, a little squirmy, a little hot and bothered, and who would have thought that was true even with a gingerbread cock? I’ll admit I took time out from my efforts for a little browsing of the internet researching just exactly how I wanted GBM’s cock to look, making him wait on the table unformed and unfulfilled while I checked out schlongs online. I decided to go for heavy, somewhere in between flaccid and semi, resting languidly against GBM’s golden tan belly so as not to obscure the view of his weighty balls.

I remember as a little girl secretly pretending that my Barbie and Ken were fucking, even though poor Ken didn’t have the equipment for the job. I only ever did that when my rather conservative mother wasn’t home, and even then I felt guilty. Not tonight though! Tonight I felt empowered. Tonight was all about indulgence, all about my fucking pleasure, and here I was making it up to poor Ken by creating right proper, and proportionately substantial, bits for GBM, shaped to suit my very active fantasy life. For a long time now, my sex life had been solo, so my fantasies tended to be doozies. That meant I saw and heard sexual innuendo everywhere in everything, and eating a hot gingerbread man was just too delicious not to fantasize about.

When I finally got down to serious hands-on with GBM’s meat and two veg, my buzz was way more than alcoholic. I was the queen, I was the creator, the dominatrix, I was GBM’s goddess and he lay before me passive and obedient to my will. And then the true artist in me came out. In my imagination, the feel of a cock became almost tactile. I imagined a man asleep not yet aroused to my touch. I imagined sliding close to him, under the blankets, all naked and needing, needing the feel of maleness — of maleness needing me back. In my mind’s eye, I traced the silken smoothness of hard growing beneath soft. I cupped the weighty sac, slightly cooler to the touch, full and tight, resting in my hand. My mouth watered anticipating the taste of maleness, ginger and spice and everything nice, everything so fucking nice.

“Run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man.”

“Oh trust me, my little humunculous, you don’t want to run from me, not when I have your cock in my hand. Oh yes, I can see that smile on your face. You can’t fool me. I know what you want, and when I’ve made it so hot you can’t stand it, I’m going to eat you.”

I would have considered taking a break to tuck my set of shiny love balls up inside me, to jiggle and tease me while I worked on my creation, but I couldn’t leave him alone in such an unsatisfied state. Instead I stood at the counter hunched over his prone body, shifting from foot to foot, pressing my thighs together. The heady smell of ginger and heat flaring my nostrils and filling my mouth with saliva as I touched and fondled and formed the cock of my dreams. Lust heated the kitchen far more than the oven did. Sweat trickled down my spine, and thoughts of Pygmalion, in love with his own creation, thoughts of breathing life into grain and spice, leavening and oil connected me to an age old story of wanting, needing to create something to love, something that would love me back, something that I knew intimately because I had touched him as no one else had or ever would. Even in my state of arousal, my state of need, I found myself waxing all Biblical to GBM, with my slightly enebriated, more than a little bit self-centered version of Psalm 139.

 

For I created your inmost being;

I knit you together on my kitchen counter.

 You are fearfully and wonderfully made,

Even if I do say so myself

 

In the heat, I had shed my shirt and jeans, standing before my man in my red Christmas knickers and bra with a sprig of mistletoe in my damp hair, anticipating some serious mouth action when GBM was complete. At last, pleased with the shape of him, I got down on my knees and tuck him on his non-stick surface into the oven raising my arms to the heavens as I shut the oven door and steamed the glass all but shouting, “live, damn you! Live!”

Okay, now I know this sounds insane, but the second I did that, there was a flash of lightning and the electricity buzzed popped and crackled, and then went out, leaving me in the dark with GBM in his super-heated prison. But never fear, my oven is gas, and while I lay half naked curled on my side with my fingers in my panties, GBM got hotter and hotter and more and more ready, and I swear, his cock got bigger and bigger. Okay, yes, I know that’s the result of baking soda, but you gotta remember, I was in an altered state, I was just this side of Nirvana, I was having a religious experience.

Perhaps I passed out. Perhaps I really was temporarily traipsing around Nirvana. I had to be dreaming, though, because when the lights came back on the oven door burst open and wow! GBM crawled out all bronze and rippling and fully grown. Some parts of him were way more fully grown than others. And what do you think? The first words out of his mouth were, “I want to eat you, my lady, and then I’m going to fuck you.”

I always figured I’d be a beneficent creator, so I laid back in front of the oven and let GBM open my legs and run his hot, gingery, very talented tongue all over my juicy landscape. And just when I was writhing and grinding and guiding his ginger head closer to my itch, he pulled away, and I got my first look at that magnificent spicy, bronze cock, raised for the occasion.

The heat of him all but scorched me raw as he shoved his sizzling thickness up inside me and began to hump and thrust, filling the whole kitchen with the spicy, humid scent of sex and ginger – some of it his, but a good bit of it mine. He rode me until I knew I’d have bruises on my ass, and I didn’t care. I wrapped my legs around his floury ribs and met him thrust for thrust, slipping and sliding up and down his well-buttered torso. When I came, he pulled out and straddled me, holding his heavy staff up to my lips. “Eat me. Eat me now,” he said. I barely managed a few delicious licks and sucks down his gingery length before he came in buttery, spicy purts at the back of my throat. “I heard you love cream fillings,” he managed as he exploded again and again until butter and ginger and crème ran down my chin and onto my tits and I sucked and slurped and mewled like a kitten. How could anything taste so good?

“There. That’s better, isn’t it?”

I came to feeling a little singed around the edges and looking up into startling brown eyes. I blinked, not sure but what I was still dreaming, then I blinked again as I took in the total package, looking up into an outdoorsy tanned face with strong cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose that looked as though it might have been broken at one time. There was a full-lipped smile and a dimpled chin and the whole lot was topped off with bed-headed ginger-bronze hair and matching stubble.

“What happened?” I managed through a parched throat.

“You had me really worried there for a minute,” his voice was a toffee rich baritone I could have eaten with a spoon. “I think it was some sort of an electrical surge, or something. I heard it from outside and saw this bright flash of light. When your door was standing open, I feared the worst.”

“I was baking.” I did a quick glance at my oven, then did a double take only to find that the cookie sheet was empty and smoking heavily.

“Mm,” the man said, glancing first at the recipe for gingerbread men on my phone, which now lay on the floor next to me. Then he stood, grabbed a potholder and pulled the empty cookie sheet from the oven with a hearty chuckle. “What happened, did your gingerbread men run away?”

“I guess maybe he did,” I replied, looking around the room, as he offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. “I did threaten to eat him, after all.”

“Him?”

“There was just one. A big one.” It was then that I noticed my state of undress. “Oh god, I’m sorry. It was, well it was really hot in here, so I …”

“It is, hot.” He said, the smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he looked away to give me a little privacy. “Could have been all the heat that caused the electrical surge.”

“I’m sure that was it.” I replied.

“I’m Nick, By the way,” he said, still keeping his eyes averted. “I just moved in next door.”

“Janet,” I replied, zipping my jeans and turning to face him. “Welcome.”

He shot me a quick glance and when he saw that I was decent, he offered his hand. “I was just delivering a little Christmas cheer.” And then he gave me a flirty little grin that made me feel hot all over again. He nodded to the plate of gorgeously perfect gingerbread men setting on the table. “Perhaps these’ll make up for the one that got away.”

“Thank you. I had my mouth set for gingerbread men.” Then I added quickly, “sometimes my imagination runs away with me.” I looked around, half expecting GBM to be peeking out from behind the pantry door. “With the size of the one I made though, I imagine he’d still be gooey in the middle.”

“Gooey in the middle is all right as long as he’s hard where it counts. Oh God, I can’t believe I said that.” He ran a hand through mussed ginger curls.

“Well you can hardly be blamed under the circumstances,” I replied. “What with finding me in my underwear all sprawled on the kitchen floor in front of the oven.”

He looked around. “You don’t suppose he has something sinister in mind, this giant runaway gingerbread man of yours, do you?”

“I did feel a bit like Dr. Frankenstein when I was making him,” I said. “It’s possibly he’s now out on the street running amok.”
“If the villagers all turn up with torches and pitchforks later tonight, we’ll know why,” he said.

“Best be vigilant.” I put on the kettle and nodded him to sit at the flour dusted kitchen table, still wondering what had happened to GBM. “So what do you do for a living, Nick?” I asked.

“I just opened a bakery down the street. While I do seriously delicious cookies and cakes, my specialty is breads.”

“Oh my God,” I dropped into the chair next to him, feeling like I’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone. “You own The Ginger Bread Man?”

He raised his brown eyes to meet my gaze, and a smile split his face. “Yup, that would be me.” He pointed to his hair. “I am the ginger bread man.”

 

Wishing you all Delicious Holidays!

 

Gray Christmas: New Holiday Treat from Lisabet Sarai

Gray Christmas Blurb:

Widowed author Emma Granger has reconciled herself to spending Christmas Eve in snowy Boston, with a bottle of wine and her cat. A crash from the apartment above overturns her plans for a quiet evening at home. When she investigates, she meets Nick North, an energetic iconoclast with a gray ponytail, a silver earring and bright blue eyes that kindle feelings she’d thought were gone forever.

 

 

 

You’re never too old for some holiday naughtines

 

 

Buy Gray Christmas Here:

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N6JJIQD/

Amazon UK –   https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01N6JJIQD/

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/691291

 

Coming to other vendors soon! (I hope…)

 

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33550862-gray-christmas

 

 

Gary Christmas Excerpt:

A bit of gray frizz peeked out from the neckline of his tee. I wondered if he was hairy all over, then blushed when I realized he was looking at me. Did he know what I was thinking? God, I hoped not! How embarrassing it would be if he realized a horny old grandmother was lusting after his body!

 

I nibbled at my cheese, glancing out the window so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “It’s snowing harder.”

 

“Good thing we’re warm and cozy together in here.” Something in his tone made alarm bells ring. When I turned my attention to him, though, he was studying his cracker.

 

“So—um—what about you? Are you married?” Might as well take the bull by the horns.

 

“Was.” He wiped his elegant fingers on his napkin. “She left me for a younger man. About ten years ago.”

 

“Ouch! That must have hurt.”

 

“Yeah, especially since I was in the hospital recovering from heart surgery at the time.” His manner was nonchalant, as though we were still discussing the weather. My chest grew tight in sympathy. “She was a selfish bitch.”

 

“I think you’re being too kind.”

 

“I’m lucky she’s gone. I’m better off without her.”

 

“I think I’d have to agree.”

 

“Though I have to say she was great in bed.”

 

For that, I had no reply. I fumbled with a piece of flatbread, trying to hide my confusion, but I could feel my cheeks were flaming red.

 

“What about your husband? Was he a good lover?” I couldn’t look at him. I knew there’d be a saucy grin on those enticing lips, and a brash twinkle in those eyes.

 

How could I explain about Tom and me? All the great years we had together, so many erotic adventures, and then the pale, bland final decade, when he’d lost interest in fucking. Not that it had been his fault. Between menopause and arthritis, sex simply stopped being fun for me. He hated knowing that penetration caused me pain, so he pulled away, and God help me, I was almost relieved. But now I missed the days when we both loved my body, almost as much as I missed Tom himself.

 

I could hardly share all that with a stranger, though.

 

 

About Lisabet:

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

 

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

 

 

Holiday Gems: Six Sexy Stories by KINKLECTIC

It’s always a pleasure to guest-blog for KD Grace and I’m grateful each time I get to contribute. I’m here again, this time to share some of my recentHolidayGems-STAR-2 endeavors, both solo and with a group of eclectic writers.

I don’t know about you, but I love the Holiday season. I’m blessed with a wonderful family and we often prioritize the Holidays as a time of year to take time off from life and work, and typically converge upon a location somewhere along the West Coast. Coming from a large family (I’m one of five siblings, the oldest), it gets very festive. Along with our Irish and British heritage, ample amounts of liquor and spirits are imbibed and we are not shy about eating ourselves silly. We play games, see movies, stay up to the wee hours of the morning talking and genuinely enjoy one another’s company.

For this reason, amongst others, the Holiday season is pretty much a magical experience for me, surrounded by those who I love most on this lovely planet.

Last year, we enjoyed a sunny Christmas in San Diego and the year prior, a yummy Thanksgiving in Portland. A decade ago, we disappeared to Lake Tahoe for some snow-boarding and skiing, another year, we were on the Oregon Coast in a large house-share, enjoying the Pacific Ocean and the Pacific NW’s scenic beauty. Next year, we’re contemplating a Thanksgiving in San Francisco.

Then, it might not surprise you that I love to write short-stories that center around a holiday theme. This year, I’ve been unusually ambitious. Along with a talented and eclectic group of erotic and romance fiction authors, we pulled together a collection of holiday short stories. Six, to be exact and two of which, are mine. With plenty of fantasy, naughty bits and even some romance, I’m sure that they will hit a sweet-spot or two! *evil-grin*

Have a look!

*****

Mistress Klaus by Ruby Madden

Contrary to what most believe, it is Mistress Klaus who runs the show at the North Pole. Not Santa Claus, but Mistress Klaus… Nonetheless, she still needs a partner. A man to call her own. A partner who can serve her in more ways than one…

Office Party by Troy King

Rebecca and John have had their fair share of erotic adventures, but their very first time exploring their wilder sides came at the company Christmas party. While executives yammered on and everyone got bored, Rebecca and John expanded their horizons.

Holiday-GEMS-Promo_PROMO-4The Professor’s Pleasures: Merry Xmas by Fallen Kittie

A sexy interlude between a student and Professor, then and now…

A Hysteric New Year by Audrey Lusk

Wherein an inventor has found a way to use his latest marvel the same way most do – for sex. A hot ménage romance in a not-quite-steampunk fantasy Victorian setting.

The Winter Dream by Lydia Young

After her brush with death, Jolie Paget’s world tumbles into madness and dreams. On the longest night of winter, she must confront the chaos…and the man who haunts her sleep. But will she be able to emerge from it with her mind and heart in one piece?

Santa’s Gift by Ruby Madden

Sally has nearly finished her PhD and is on vacation for the Holidays in sunny San Diego when she spies a tall, sexy man lounging across the pool. She’s recently dumped her boyfriend of three years and hasn’t had a ‘decent lay’ in as many. She makes a bold move, and picks up Rain, hoping for a one-night stand. Much to her surprise, Rain expects to be paid for his unique skills. Will Sally deny herself some much needed carnal pleasure or indulge in Rain’s expert, hand’s-on TLC and sensual care?

*****

The collection will only be $0.99 through the Holidays (1/7/15) and is also eligible for the KU (KindleUnlimited) borrow program. It is available exclusively at Amazon.

My two short stories, Mistress Klaus and Santa’s Gift will be also be sold separately as stand-alones and are also exclusive to Amazon and the KU borrow program.

Buy Holiday Gems Here:

*****

For fun, here are some snippets from my two stories:

SANTA’S GIFT

This was really happening. And fast. This man was all eyes for me and the vodka tonics were hitting me hard.Santa's-Gift-1

“What’cha reading on your eReader?” Rain asked.

I was stunned that he’d noticed. This confirmed that he’d been watching me before I had come over to meet him. “Oh, just something silly. Girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff? You mean erotica? Or romance?” He teased.

I shook my head and wondered if there was any chance that I could feel any more awkward than I already was. I just knew that my expressive face revealed my nervousness.

“Erotic romance, if the genre must be clarified.”

“Awh,” he said, his amusement at my expense was somewhat endearing. His eyes danced with delight at my embarrassment. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Sex is the greatest pleasure in life.”

“For some,” I quipped quickly, regretting it as soon as I said it.

He tilted his face at me, and looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was referring to. “Sorry to hear it.”

Whatever awkwardness in what I’d just revealed must have been plain as day on my face because what he said next, blew my mind.

“Maybe I can change that?”

He was so bold. So direct.

Old me would have been offended. New me was hundreds of miles away from home on vacation. New me had just dumped her long-term boyfriend. New me was horny as all hell.

 

Buy Santa’s Gift Here:

*****

MISTRESS KLAUS

It had already been a twelve hour day, but that wouldn’t stop her or her workaholic elf team from continuing to work. It was peak season and with
less than four days until the big day, it was all-hands-on-deck, twenty-four hours a day. Each elf working twelve hour shifts and then some more, if they chose to.

“Speaking of breaks, I think I need one too…” she sighed and made her way to the break-room to get some coffee.MistressKlaus-BC-+-Jasper-Med

While she doctored the warm mug of liquid energy, adding a dash of nutmeg, she quickly got lost in her lusty thoughts. Rather than working, she wanted to read.

Read erotica, that is.

This year, they’d sent out more erotic romance books than ever before. In fact, each year, they’d seen a steady increase of this particular gift request for the horny adults of Earth celebrating the holidays. It just so happened that Mistress Klaus had long since developed an eBook habit to all the many erotic and romantic fiction titles. It didn’t help matters that they were available in abundance online.

They gave her all sorts of naughty ideas…

Ones that she could play out with her very own submissive and naughty consort, Jasper.

 

Buy Mistress Klaus Here:

*****

Lastly but most importantly, Mistress Klaus has a gift for you! 
The link expires Sunday so grab your copy soon.
Happy Holidays!  
*****

Happy Reading & Merry Holidays!

Warm Wishes,

Ruby Madden

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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