"Where's my stocking," I ask innocently.
"Right here," she says.
"Where?"
"Here, right here." She points to her chest.
"Behind you?"
"No, silly. Right here. Me. I'm your Christmas stocking."
My puzzlement slowly turns to a grin.
"Ohhhh, are you. Hmmm, so where's the stocking?"
She pulls up the hem of her dress just high enough so I can see the top of a nylon stocking. "I'm standing in your stocking," she says, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes, you are. So where do I start unwrapping my stocking."
"Well," says my wife. "Didn't you tell me that as a young boy there was always something sweet at the top of your stocking?"
"Hey, that's right."
"So come here and kiss me." I wasted no time gathering my wife into my arms and she gave me an amorous full tongue kiss. Her lips tasted of candy cane peppermint and her perfume of fresh peaches. As we clung together and my hands roamed down over her bottom. Didn't seem to be much under that dress, I thought – which, of course, caused my cock to respond, too.
"Did you always get an erection when you opened your stocking when you were a kid?" my wife asks, emphasizing her discovery by rubbing her crotch against my growing hardness.
"No, but then I never found anything in my stocking that tasted or felt as good as you do, either. What's next?"
"If I remember correctly you said the next thing in your stocking was something to play with, right?"
"Yes, usually a toy or a game or something."
My wife turned around. "Undo my zipper," she says. Slowly I do that, noticing my hands are trembling a bit. I'm both aroused and a bit nervous. My wife slips the dress off her shoulders, holding the material against her breasts as she turns back to face me.
"Perhaps you'd enjoy playing with these toys," she says as she lets the dress
drop to her waist. She's braless and her large, full breasts are bare and beaming.
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