It was the Christmas season. I had to work between Christmas and New Year which I hate to do as I love Christmas and like to make it a long break. The trains were running a reduced holiday service so it took me twice as long as usual to get back and it was cold and lashing with rain as I trudged down the lane to our cottage. My spirits were raised as I approached and a warm glow escaped through a crack in the living room curtains telling me Sophie had a fire going. I opened the door, took off my wet coat and muddy boots and walked into the living room.
She was lying on the rug in front of the fire wearing a tiny Santa Claus outfit that showed her stocking tops and suspenders. In her hand was a glass of steaming mulled wine, another stood on the low table beside her. “There you are darling, it looks horrid outside and I fancied something warm inside me… Would you care to indulge?” As she handed me my glass the tiny Santa outfit rode up to reveal that she was wearing no knickers. Not unusual for Sophie, but in the flickering firelight I spied a glisten from between her thighs and I suspected she may have been entertaining herself in anticipation of my arrival.