Carol’s Xmas

by S.T. May

Copyright ©2026

Marley was dead to me. There is no doubt whatever about that. The ending of the relationship was witnessed by my friends, several of his mates, the amused bartender, and the irritated bouncer who threw his sorry ass out of the club. As far as I was concerned, Marley was as dead as a coffin-nail.

Two weeks after I split from Marley, I was spending

In the next room, Frankie is replaced by Grace Jones.

Tim drags on a joint before passing it to his friend Bob. They were invited by one of my flatmates, Jen, but she disappeared long ago with a Boy George lookalike attached to her waist. Tim is shorter than me and blonde with long hair to his ribs in a throwback hippie style, I’m not sure when he lost his shirt– but with his back to me he could easily pass for a girl. He has great skin and delicate shoulders. Bob in contrast is tall with a big ginger beard and well over six-foot. They make a strange pair, and I don’t fancy either of them - but I’ve been bogarting Tim’s spliffs all evening and they make for amusing company in the absence of any real men, so I’ve stuck around. 

My head is getting fuzzy, so I mumble something about needing a pee. When I look back into the kitchen from the bottom of the stairs, Tim is staring into space with a shit-eating grin on his face and Bob has his face deep into the fridge.

I climb, holding onto the bannisters for balance until I reach the top of the house. Nobody is here, so I drop to my knees and crawl across the carpet to my door. The reflection in the brass doorknob stares back and becomes the face of my ex, Marley. This makes me giggle, so I turn it until it catches and fall into my room. 

I crawl across the floor, capture my bed and lean on the mattress looking at the closed off Victorian fireplace topped by a scroll mantelpiece. I can once again see Marley’s face as a distorted reflection in the shiny tiles.

“You humiliated me Carol,” he says.

“I saved myself.”

His body comes into fuzzy focus. Ripped t-shirt, bondage trousers, chains from nose to ear, a lost spectre of Chelsea punk.

“You were selfish,” Marley says, “so was I.”

“Big of you to admit.”

“I took pleasure but rarely gave back,” he speaks, and more chains appear, hanging across his body. “I forged these chains in life, one link for every time I came alone, when you and other lovers didn’t finish.”

I blink and try to dismiss this vision. “You are not real; you are in my mind.”

He shakes his head, rattling the chains which levitate about him. “These are real as I am, they weigh me down. I spent much time pleasuring myself, so they are long and complex indeed.”

I push my face into the bed, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

“I’m here as the ghost of our relationship, to help you take a different path.”

“You are no ghost, you are a piece of resin, there is more of the rave than the grave about you.”

“Nevertheless,” Marley says, “you will be visited by three ghosts to teach selflessness.”

“If I refuse?”

He holds his hands out and the chains penetrate them like snakes. “You cannot, I am already here – I am the ghost of your Christmases past.”

He screams in pleasure as the chains zip across his body, hooks cutting into his nipples, digging deep, pulling his flesh taught. They contract and stretch him beyond tolerance. He splits from head to groin, silver chainsaws ripping clothes and flesh into shreds uncovering another more muscular body, with penis and nipples erect. My first love – Dave.

“You must,” Dave hisses, through a mouth sewn with thin chains of bright silver, “take control…”

I remember myself in his flat. Stretched out on his bed. My hands and feet tied to the four corners, spreadeagled, vulnerable.

He would blindfold me, brush the flat of his hand across my breasts, circle the nipples. Teasing rather than touching, until the hairs on my body stood on end. He would lick my hipbones and draw his tongue across my belly towards my clitoris, stopping short and returning time after time, circling gently. I would shudder when his tongue finally connected and he would start again, making me come several times, tingling as he did all the work while I lay as a pillow princess.

Looking at the tortured body in front of me, spreadeagled by silver chains, I can’t remember returning the favour even once.

I stand, a little unsteady and shed my clothes in an untidy heap at the side of the bed. When naked, I kneel beside Dave’s body and run a finger along the muscular, swimmer’s shoulders. I start by hovering my hand over his chest to disturb the short hairs on the way to his nipples. They pucker and I touch them with my lips, flicking my tongue to circle the hard skin, finally dropping my mouth to warm them. My own breasts stroke his abdomen encouraging my own nipples to contract painfully. I lift my head looking into those beautiful green eyes and move down his body.

His penis twitches and rises to my touch. A small drop of pre-cum emerges from the top of the glans and I smooth the lubricant between my finger and thumb before dipping my lips to take the tip into my mouth.

He vanishes.

One second, he was naked and tied, the next there is a faint depression on my threadbare carpet. I am alone in the room, kneeling in the faint light from the open door, my clothes in a heap beside me.

I shakily sit on the edge of my bed. It is just past midnight. I can only have been here a few minutes. I shake my head and lean over towards the door. I can’t quite reach it from here, so I stand to close it. Someone large steps forward from the dimly lit landing and into the doorway.

A huge, hairy man casts a cold shadow into the room, a short, hooded cloak hiding his face. Below he wears nothing but a wide green ribbon with decorative bow.

“I am your Christmas present, Carol,” he chuckles at his own joke.

“The second ghost?”

“Yes…not exactly your type,” the jolly fat ghost rumbles like an avalanche. His belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly and his enormous cock and balls jiggle as they peek below the hairy mountain.

“Not really,” I say.

“Let me help,” he laughs and twiddles his middle finger in the air.

The world spins and I find myself astride him. He is lying back, the hood still impossibly covering his face in shadow and his huge belly spreads across the bed to its full width. I am on top and already impaled on his huge cock which fills me entirely. It feels like I have been stretched further than I can take, but there is no pain. Just a pleasant tingling like a thousand sparkling pop-rocks from his magical dick.

“I only come once a year, so let’s make this a good one,” he laughs, his penis throbbing inside me with every tremor of his humungous belly. He is a tsunami of flesh and electric shocks jump from my clitoris to belly button and back to my anus, like a whirlpool of sensation emanating from his huge penis. 

He rocks back and forth, penetrating me until it feels like the whole of his body has entered my vagina and is simultaneously spinning around and vibrating inside me. I experience wave after wave of electrical stimulation, every hair on my body standing to attention as his body commands me to respond. As I start to climax, he swells inside me until I am overcome by a rush of pressure which spreads out into every part of me. 

And then he too is gone, and I am left just short of coming with an overwhelming ache and need which I can feel all the way to my bones.

I am on my back in bed, above the bedcovers covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The bedside clock stands at 1am. My hand reaches automatically to my groin to press and rub at the top of the wetness there and I find another hand hovering over me.

“Let me help you Carol,” comes a tinkling bell-like voice in my ear.

I turn my head slightly to see an elfin woman next to me, lying on the bed, also naked with the blackest skin I have ever seen. She smiles and her pointed ears tilt back on her entirely bald head.

“Third ghost?” I croak.

“Also, not your type?” she asks, raising one beautifully styled eyebrow.

“Well…” I start to reply and gasp in pleasure as two of her fingers slip inside me.

“I am the ghost of your Christmases yet to come,” she smiles as I close my eyes, “I know my fellow ghosts have not let you come. I am different.”

The sensation of her touch is exquisite. Her expertise in touching me shows that she knows every nerve in my vulva as well as the sweet spots within the vagina. My whole body is centred on her fingers as they slide in and out of me, brushing my labia with her thumb and circling my clitoris at just the right speed and pressure.

“I am the ghost of the little death. I am unstoppable, but elusive to some. I will show you how, and where.”

I shudder as the orgasm takes me, stronger than any I have ever felt with a man.

Because the touch is just right, and the rhythm is perfect, it takes me in waves which shake me from groin to toes and back again until I think it will never stop.

The small black woman takes my hand in turn and shows me where to press her, and how to pleasure her. I am familiar with some of the ways she moves, but many are surprising and a few are novel. I learn how to give and to receive many times until I fall into an exhausted slumber.

I wake suddenly, alone in my bed, and look across at the clock again. It is barely after 2 am and the date still reads as Christmas Day. It appears that the spirits have managed to do everything in only a couple of hours. 

A hot rush overcomes me, it is probably not too late.

I get out of bed, put a large ‘Relax’ t-shirt on that falls to my thighs, and tiptoe down the stairs into the kitchen to give tiny Tim the biggest goose ever. He is asleep in a chair alongside his friend but wakes when I pinch his bum and gesture for him to follow me upstairs. 

It turns out that his height is deceptive and not related to other parts of him, and he has exceptionally dextrous hands; his big friend is also a lot more fun than I had previously judged.

About S.T. May

S.T. May grew up in Wiltshire, UK, amongst ancient standing stones, majestic chalk hills, and a lot of cow pats. They have had several short stories published by Dark Rose Press (dark romance)– some body-horror in ‘A Compendium of Enigmatic Species’ and an eco-fable in Microbes to the rescue [free] (audio-version -also free).