The Perfect Gift

There’s a little blonde fairy, half turned away, talking to herself.

Hand gestures and all.

She’s tied in a big pink bow that covers her small breasts—and she’s wearing nothing else but a pink thong and high heels. I’m shocked as hell when my cock fills with blood and swells against the front of my slacks. I have no choice but to reach down and adjust the growing length. It must be her ass. It’s almost indescribably hot. I’ve never seen a bottom quite so… disrespectful. Her cheeks are so high and tight, they’re talking back to me. Even sassing me.

Have you lost your mind?

“Ta-da!” she half-whispers to herself, throwing her arms out wide and almost knocking herself over. “I’m your present and oh boy, I’m so good at sex. Oooh yeah. You better watch out.” She slaps her hands over her eyes. “Oh goodness. You sound ridiculous.”

Is this girl…rehearsing what she’s going to say to me?

I realize my mouth is arranging itself in a smile and quickly stamp it out.

This has already taken up too much of my time.

Even if I find her extremely sexy, I know damn well I won’t sleep with her.

Sex requires human touch. Human touch burns me like fire and I have no desire to fix myself. For a while in my early twenties, I tried to undo the belief that pleasure equaled weakness, but it didn’t work and I haven’t had the desire to try again in over a decade. Forgoing human touch keeps me alone and alone is where I love to be.

Surprised by my hesitation to get rid of the girl, I force myself to rap a fist on the door.

The fairy whirls around to face me with a gasp—and falls squarely on her tight butt.

My life flashes in front of my eyes in a frenetic slide show. When it stops, there is nothing but the fairy. My heart pounds like a fist on a drum. And I can’t do anything but stare.

Her face.

It’s innocence.

It’s angelic purity and yet my cock hardens further, eager to defile.

Blonde hair falls around in her comically stunned face, wide green eyes blinking up at me, her puffy mouth parted in surprise. My body aches for release simply by looking at her from the neck up, but below that…fucking Christ. Her ass was only the beginning. The outlines of her stiff nipples are visible through the soft material of the pink bow. With her leaning back on her hands, knees raised, I can see the mound of her pussy and I stifle the urge to get on top of her and hump that little thing until my balls are empty.

“A-are you Mister Lincoln?”

My loins twist like a fucking pretzel at the full, husky sound of her voice saying my name. “Lincoln is my first name,” I rasp.

“Oh. Umm…”

She turns over and awkwardly gets to her feet, the high heels clearly two sizes too big. Despite her whispered claims to be good at sex, I’ve never been more convinced in my life that someone is a virgin. That only makes me burn hotter, makes my dick harder, even though I know unwrapping this gift is impossible. I hate to be touched.

Finally, the fairy gets her balance and flings out her hands. “Ta-da! I’m your—”

“I heard.”

“Oh.” Her face goes pink, arms drifting down to her sides. “Did I mess up already?”

Why is my heart flopping around like a fish? “No. No, you did fine, but…” I clear my throat hard and step aside. “You may…”

I can’t bring myself to say “leave.”

Just say it.

“You want me to go to the bedroom, right?” There is a brave set to her shoulders as she sails past me. “I hope you don’t mind, I already had a tiny peek at the master. Everyone is so jealous that I get to see the inside of this wonderful place. It has been towering over the beach for so long and no one has ever been invited.”

I follow her out of the kitchen and toward a staircase. “Who is everyone?”

She stops and turns with her hand on the rail. “Sorry?”

There is a rather obnoxious need to know who this girl associates with, how often and where. “You said ‘everyone is jealous.’ Who is ‘everyone’?”

“Oh!” She counts off on her fingers. “My sisters, some of our regular customers, Marcel the cook—”

“You work in a restaurant.”

“Yes.” She starts up the stairs, her peachy little ass on display, the pink strip of her thong separating cheeks that lift, fall, lift, making the tie around my neck feel like it’s strangling me. “That’s where your friends found me.”

It hits me hard how fucking debased this situation is. My partners went into this girl’s place of work and paid her to service me for a week, even though she’s young as hell and clearly innocent. I’m not a man who does things like this. I’m not turned on by breaking the rules or flexing my power. This is wrong and yet, I follow her up the stairs as if in a trance.