Strolling Through the Lights

We start to get ready to go walking through the lights of a very festive neighborhood. The rain that had been threatening all day decided to leave so it was a perfect clear night.

You see me watching you as you start to pull on jeans, a slight frown on my face. “What?”

“Oh…I was just thinking that you really should be commando for the walk,” I muse out loud.

You give me the look, but grudgingly take off the jeans and remove your underwear. Before you start again, you ask, “Anything else?” I smile and pick up your jeans, looking at them.

“Nope. These will do just fine.” I hand them to you and finish getting dressed.

We get to the neighborhood and find a place to park. It’s a busy night since the weather has cooperated. We start wandering up one street and down another. The lights are beautiful, there are carolers wandering and people have been so inventive with some of their decorations. We see one house has decorated an old truck and I stop. “That will work.”

The house is dark except for the lit truck. I take your hand and we walk up the driveway a bit, just looking at the lights. No one is taking any notice of us because the house across is completely covered in lights that are blinking out the pattern of the music playing.

I pull you to the back side of the truck where we are out of sight. Unless someone comes home, that is. I push you against the truck and start opening your fly. “Wait!” you say as you look around frantically.

I shake my head and start stroking your cock. Even in the cold, you harden instantly and your head drops back against the side of the truck. Within a minute, I have you to the edge, breathing heavily. I stop and listen to you groan, count to 10 and start again. I edge you two more times and stop for a second, pondering.

You open your eyes and look at me, half nervous and half hopeful. Nodding, I start again and this time I bring you to the edge and just barely over. Well….maybe not even over. Ruined. All the mess and none of the fun.

I smirk, wipe my hand on your jeans and nod. “You should button up. There’s at least another three or four streets to go.”