[ad_1]

The once bright sun of Veronika Swift’s heart was no more thanks to the dull cloud that was Christmas. The winter season was better off without it. She could do without the incessant music too. And the people…Those horrible people who love to celebrate such a consumerist holiday and feel it necessary to try and spread it like an airborne disease, she could definitely do without.

So when Veronika stepped out of the taxi and into the little Welsh town of Tintern decorated already in crystal red and green lights just as November was at its last breath she found it abysmally tacky.

Veronika stood on the icy and cobbled pavement and watched the taxi leave her behind. She took out a small mirror from her purse and glanced at her reflection, and then combed her curly hair with her fingernails and ridded it of snowflakes. It was no use, however, for there stood huge trees above raining down leaves and bits of snow every now and then.

She held in one of her mitts a small burning half-empty flask as hot as the kettle she had boiled hours ago. She took a sip of the burnt, earthy coffee, and just as much as it dried out her mouth like the Sahara Desert it warmed up her tired body as though she had drunk the sun. To her, coffee was the only thing getting her through this holiday season. She shivered as it flowed throughout her insides and to the receptors in her brain. She was fully awake now. She was fully awake to the realisation that she was now stuck here in Tintern for the foreseeable future.

It was never her intention to return to her hometown; never in a million years. But here she was.

Her doc martins scrunched up the prevailing snow beneath them like bad schoolboys in winter as she walked away from the decorated shop displays. It was useless, however, there was no getting away from the painful memories. The whole town wrapped in on itself like a market square, and she saw her miserable reflection in its terraced windows. Its narrow car-jammed roads spiralled and led into each other. The town centre choked her with its pedestrian focused city planning, which must have gradually devolved into a touristic configuration after she had left all those years ago.

Veronika frantically brisked her steps forward on the cobbled street and looked about at the whimsical terraced houses. She shook her head. It was too cold for gallivanting, she wondered. She came across a small, albeit quaint church building at the corner of some street. She withdrew a letter from her pocket and studied it: ‘L. Scott Law Office.’ She turned to face the rest of the centre, and scanned the line of storefronts desperately.

Veronika’s cold and icy breath slowly dissipated in front of her like the smoke from the nearby chimneys. There was only one place she had not tried – the building with the enormous 5’9 white-bearded red-clothed statue stood outside its wreathed shop window. Instead of walking on the pavement around the park in the centre, Veronika hurried through the frozen lawn. The open space made her vulnerable to blasts of brittle and icy wind, which carried the aromatic scent of home-baked chocolate chip cookies.

Veronika wrinkled her nose. It reminded her too much of home, and she hated that.

Swoosh!

Veronika froze. She followed the direction of the flying object and saw a football thud down the steep roof tiles of one of the homes and into the hands of a young man. He turned around to face Veronika in the distance and grinned sheepishly. He threw it above his head and then kicked it into the cloudy sky over her head. It soared like a comet and for a moment she wondered it had been swallowed by the silver sky forever, but then it came as though from space crashing down like a meteorite into the cold and wet patchy grass. Veronika watched as it rolled onto the faded sneakers of another man. She looked away from the smiling man, reminded of a life she had buried in the recesses of her mind long ago. The fragmented figments of her childhood Fridays when she would play with the neighbourhood children after college flashed across her mind incessantly.

Veronika stared at the clovers dotted around the field as she ruminated on these happy memories. She had not heard the man kick the ball back to his friend below the roof, but she soon heard his loud yell. The man had slipped and fell trying to kick the ball again. She ran towards him instinctively; although it had been several years since she competed, her cross-running skills had not degraded and she darted across the park. She reached out a hand to the young man.

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head and blushed.

“You kick the ball high; I’ll give you that.” Veronika said, “But your stride is too long.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Veronika curled the ball onto her right foot. “Like this.” She placed it on the ground in front of her. These were not the sort of shoes she should be getting dirty, she wondered; and there was no way she could kick as far as she could in these skinny jeans.

Jogging on the spot for a moment, she strode to the ball with small steps and swung her leg, hoping that her tight jeans would not rip. She had barely afforded the taxi fare from the airport; she could not afford another pair.

Her foot curled under the ball and hurled it quickly and it flew like an artillery shell into the air.

The young man’s eyes widened in amazement and smiled ear to ear.

“We should play.” His blue eyes shocked her.

The ball came hurtling back like a rocket, and the young man caught it with the side of his wet sneaker. He started to do kicky-uppies – one…two…three.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” The man rolled his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Veronika. Veronika Swift.”

“Mine’s Brad. Just Brad.” His smile was electrifying.

Veronika studied him: he was handsome. Absurdly handsome. His jaw was as sharp as a young socialite’s fingernail, and as square as a red brick, and so was his frame. His face was tanned like an Italian with the bony nose of a Greek, and he spoke spartan-like from his heart-shaped lips.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Mrs,” Brad said.

Veronika blushed as red as a mountain of roses. It had been a long time since she had even wondered about dating another man ever since her evil ex dumped her for her best friend. She tried little to hide the smile rapidly appearing on her face between her dimples, and she fingered her big chestnut curls teasingly. She did not know how to respond without seeming too willing, so she said nothing.

The handsome gentleman took her cold hand and led her into a small enclosed back alley behind one of the strips of homes lining the park, and her heart thumped against her chest the further they strayed from the open field. Now on both sides swung broken rustic waist-high gates, which reminded Veronika of Saturday backdoor BBQ’s in the summer. She could almost smell the burnt sausages her father at all times cooked on his grill. She could almost taste it as well. Her eyes watched helplessly as she was tugged along the darkening alleyway. For a brief moment as they got lost behind a few left out wheelie bins, she wondered that she was about to get murdered. Before she could even think about running away, Brad spun around and wrapped his large and bulky arms around her small hourglass waist. He pulled her into him against his chiselled pecs. She gasped loudly, her glistened eyes staring directly into his, which danced with excitement like a flickering fire.

She ground her fingernails into the back of his neck as they kissed passionately. Their tongues danced in each other’s mouths as Veronika’s crimson lips painted themselves over his upper lip a fiery red. She chuckled at his now red moustache, and continued to kiss down his olive neck.

He moaned softly like a purring kitten, and he began to grope the voluptuous woman underneath her thick coat like a Christmas present. Her body was slender in just the right places and likewise busty in the areas men want and appreciate. Her breasts were enormous and he desperately peeled open her woolly cardigan like an envelope and buried his head inside between her cleavage. It smelled lovely and warm and safe. Veronika gasped as he tore into her tits excitedly with his mouth. He dethroned each breast from their place inside the bra by way of his teeth and he bit down on one of them. She gasped again.

“It hurts!” She said.

“Sorry.”

Veronika’s facial expression changed from irritated to amused. “Well, if you are going to bite me, then I’ll return the favour!” She bit down on his neck hard.

“Oh fuck! My girlfriend is going to see that!”

“Girlfriend? That sounds like a you problem,” she laughed in his face.

Brad sighed. The love-bite did not stop the young man as he continued to spit and play with her bosom. He then plopped her right nipple into his mouth and suckled on it vigorously. Veronika felt her entire lung empty into the cold crisp air as her body rippled like disrupted waters from the tingling sensation.

“Easy, Tiger.”

Then his hand slid down to her jean buttons, and before Veronika could stop him he unbuckled it, exposing it for the first time to the low temperatures of Welsh weather. She shuddered and it became overwhelmingly obvious to Veronika that the young man was no novice when it came to women. She clenched his hard and bony shoulders to keep herself upright, and she leaned back at the waist as he dug into her panties and her clit. He rubbed her furiously.

She moaned out loud. She did not care if anyone was around to hear. It felt too good – having a young man chew on her nipple while rubbing her clit – it was a woman’s wet dream.

She fumbled inside his own pants and pulled out his long cock, which stood erect like a tree branch. It warmed her hand and he did not seem to mind it’s icy grip. She yanked it all the while staring directly into his gorgeous eyes. He fell into a groan and the brick wall behind him. By pure chance he tilted his head back and he shared a brief eye with an old man grinning from one of the opposing windows above.

“Oh, it feels so good.” Brad exclaimed.

She continued to tug his instrument. She then knelt on the ground and admired it up close: it was enormous. The shaft was almost the size of her forearm and she shuddered at the wondered of sucking it. Brad had the back of her head in his palm as he pressed her pale pretty face to his drooping ball sack, which hung like a pair of tennis rackets. He pressed harder on the back of her head and Veronika was forced to take deep breaths of his sweaty and musky scent. His penis twitched.

“Open up,” he commanded.

She did as she was told and as she suckled on his ball sack, his shaft pulsed with precum. She suckled faster, tasting his salt. His eyes rolled as he felt his entire body quiver with anticipation. Her mouth was intoxicating.

She sensed this and quickly kissed up his big penis to its tip, wherein she plopped it into her small mouth; her tongue swirled around it and washed it with her hot saliva. Brad groaned again, but this time it was loud enough to be heard in the park. There was a faint yell in the distance, but neither of them were concerned, or able to be concerned enough to realise how exposed they were, for they were lost in the sexual moment.

She felt it grow in her mouth. Her eyes bulged with tears. The breath escaped her body, and she looked up at his smug face as he pulled her into him by the ears. He fucked her mouth until he came down her throat.

NSFW: yes

[ad_2]