Yes, Virginia, there is a…

NC<18 -- No characters under the age of 18 are depicted in this story.

This is a copyrighted original work of erotic fiction. All rights reserved.

Submitted for your approval... (You know that phrase was only ever used as the opening lines of that old TV show three times out of somewhere around 123 episodes? Hard to believe, isn't it?)

Meet Virginia Marie Black. 46-year-old married mother of two fine young men.

Wife of a salesman.

Conservative.

Responsible.

Mature. But she doesn't consider herself to be "old" yet.

Serious. Sometimes too serious.

She stands about five feet, four inches tall in her bare feet and weighs right around a hundred pounds, naked and checking herself out in the bathroom mirror right after a long, hot, soapy shower. The kind where she's almost more sweaty after she gets out than she was when she got in after her workout.

Brown hair with slightly lighter highlights, feathered back from her face.

This early evening we find her working in the background of her company's Holiday Party.

She's wearing a red dress. Not too tight, but revealing. Revealing to a discerning eye when she bends over a table that she's wearing her usual thong underwear -- which, given her reputation and the way she carried herself, might have surprised a lot of her friends and most assuredly almost all of her co-workers.

At the moment she has a white lurex scarf draped around her neck and tied in a loose knot just below the base of her throat with the tails dangling down her chest.

She's wearing pointed black pseudo-suede boots with ruffles down the sides that ripple in the air as she walks quickly from area to area on the three-inch stiletto heels, checking on decorations, making sure the food and drinks are stocked. Just doing things for others because that's what she does. It just comes naturally to her.

As she circulates through the crowd in the break room-cum-cafeteria she notices movement behind the curtain that's been set up at the end of the break room to hide the vending machines.

That's odd, she thinks. Our Holiday Elf isn't supposed to be showing up for another hour. I bet it's someone who's snuck off for a quick game of slap-and-tickle with a coworker or significant other. Or a couple of kids. Either way...

She glances around to see if anyone's watching, then pulls the edge of the curtain aside and slides her slim form through the gap.

She's not sure herself why she's ducking in so furtively. Is it because she wants to scare the kids -- if they are? Or could it be that she's missing certain aspects of married life with her husband the salesman - gone so often and so long - and she's hoping to catch a quick peek of a young couple making out?

The lights at this end of the room have been turned off and the vending machines themselves covered in curtains to prevent their glow from being seen. The curtains that have been hung behind the Holiday Elf's chair are thick enough to block out most of the light from the rest of the room.

At first she sees nothing. But then as her eyes adjust to the darkness she begins to make out a figure in the corner.

Just as she realizes he's there he steps forward, partially into the one sliver of light that has penetrated the curtains and she gasps.

Who the fuck is that? She thinks. Her use of profanity would also shock most of her co-workers who've never heard her use it. No. Wait. Who the FUCK is THAT? Inside her mind there was a definite difference in the meaning of that same sentence.

Just visible in the dim light is a man. He's wearing a dark gray tunic with a shiny black leather thing over it. A tabard? she thinks. She's not sure where she knows that from. She's also not sure why she knows this one is special -- in more ways than one.

It stretches to the very edge of very broad shoulders at the top and then cuts in at a diagonal until it's only about eight inches wide where it hangs slightly off the cliff of his pecs on his equally broad chest. The diagonal cut almost seems to parallel the cut of his chest where it cuts inward toward his slim waist.

The tabard must be almost as thin as the tunic he's wearing because she can see the ridges of his abs through both of them.

The sight of his abs is broken only by the wide black leather belt settled just above his hips. She's not sure if the buckle on it is shiny black or silver but it draws her eyes downward.

Downward to the thighs sticking out from under the tunic and tabard. Thighs like tree trunks. Not huge tree trunks, but thick with muscles. Covered in hose of some kind.

Any other man wearing hose I'd think was maybe a little strange, but those look so very good on him and those legs..., the thought comes almost unbidden to her mind.

Her eyes continue down "those legs" to rough leather boots, almost like moccasins, that come to just below his knees.

He steps a little farther into the light and she realizes she can see his face. She tears her eyes away from his legs, albeit reluctantly, and drags them back up over those abs, oh those abs, to take in his eyes. Even in the dark she can make out the blue-ness of his eyes. Part mountain lake, part sapphire, part moonlight. She also takes in the heavy lids above those impossibly blue eyes and the thick eyebrows above them. Bedroom eyes, she thinks.

Her gaze slips slowly down to his full lips, partially hidden, but framed by a short van dyke beard that also more accentuated the square-ness of his chin and a cleft so deep it's almost a crag.

Her eyes slip upward to the top of his head and take in an elf hat. But like no elf hat she's ever seen. A band of black fur at the base, the same gray fabric as the tunic leading to the slight bend she expected with a ball of the same black fur at the tip. And elf ears.

Whoever he is, he's an absolute stud, but the ears are just a bit over the top, she thinks.

"Who are you?" she asks. "What are you doing back here? And why are you so early?"

The man smiles at her and says in a deep rumbling voice with a musical lilt to it that sends shivers from the tip of her toes to the top of her head and back down again, with shivers that seem to vibrate and reverberate between her crotch and nipples, "Ah, you've come.

"My name is Läimäys."

Funny, she thinks, his name sounds like the kid with the blanket in that comic strip.

"What kind of name is that?" she asks.

"It is from Finland," he says. "The word itself can mean many things. Slam. Thump. Wallop. Whack. Or spank. I prefer 'Spank' myself." He says the last with a twinkle in his eye and a lift at the corner of his mouth that sends another shiver through her body and intensifies those lingering ones.

"What I am doing here is I am waiting for you. My Boss, the Big Guy (she could hear the capital letters in his voice) knows who you are."

"Well of course he does. I AM the one that hired him for this party after all."

Läimäys laughed aloud, softly, but with a bass rumble that made the hair on her arms stand up. "My Boss is not the pretender you hired to entertain your fellows. The Big Guy is aware of what you do for others, with no thought to a reward.

"But the Big Guy has decided you are well deserving of a reward and I have been sent to provide it for you."

"I... I... I don't deserve a reward for anything. I don't do anything that anyone else wouldn't do," Virginia protested.

"Ah, but you are wrong. Some people consider doing what you do. Many do not even do that. You are special. You don't even think about it, you just do it. And so you are deserving of a special reward as well."

"What kind of reward are you talking about?"

"I think you know."

"No. I don't."

"Come now, Virginia...." How does he know my name? she wondered. "I can tell from here that your body knows what reward you are hoping for and is starting to react to the idea."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she protested.

"The Big Guy knows about your secret fantasies. The ones you won't dare tell your husband."

"How could he know..." she broke off realizing she had almost given herself away.

"He knows everything about you. He knows about the books you read. He knows about that website of erotic stories you read when your husband is on his too-frequent trips that last too long. He knows what you think about in the shower, in the tub, in your bed when you touch yourself."

"Nooo..." she protested again.

"Yes. What are the words to that song? 'He's making a list, checking it twice; gonna find out who's naughty or nice'. But you have not been naughty. You have been a good girl."

The shivers had never really left, but they were back and stronger. She could feel her nipples stiffen inside her bra.

"'He sees you when you're sleeping...'" and he takes a step toward her. "He knows when you're awake."

Her breath is coming faster now.

"'He knows if you've been bad or good...'" another step. "'So be good for goodness sake.'"

Virginia can feel her face flushing as she reacts to his words and his voice, but it's not embarrassment. She closes her eyes as more, more forbidden thoughts begin to run rampant through her mind.

"You have been a very good girl, Virginia Marie. So I have been sent to give you the reward you so richly deserve."

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes to deny what he's insinuating yet again and her breath catches in her throat. How did he get so close so quickly? And without making any noise?

"You're right. I do read books. And I do read stories on Literotica. And yes, I do touch myself sometimes. But that's only because my husband is..."

"Hush. You do not need to say anything. Because anything you say from your mouth right now would be made a lie by what your body is saying to me."

"Wha... what... what do you mean?"

Läimäys leans in the last little bit until his beard lightly caresses her cheek as he whispers in her ear, "Where are your hands, little girl?"

Oh, SHIT!! She thinks as she realizes she's subconsciously crossed her wrists behind her back.

Before she can move he has somehow reached his left hand around behind her and wrapped it around her wrists, thumb to her back and fingers around the outside, holding them firmly in place.

Virginia struggles to free her wrists, but not too hard.

Läimäys laughs softly in her ear. "See? You know you want this."

She shivers again as she feels the tip of his tongue slide slowly up the edge or her ear. No, not the ear, just along the sensitive hairs, not quite making contact with the skin.

Then the tip of his tongue slides just as slowly down her ear and she tilts her head to the side without thinking as his lips begin to caress the side of her neck.

"Your body is telling me that you want what is coming," he whispers.

"You... your beard tickles!" she whispers back.

"That is not what I am referring to," he says as he laughs. "You do not even realize that you are swaying to make friction in your crotch?"

Just as he says this she realizes she's been swaying her hips and making her lips slide softly against each other in the wetness that is flowing from her cunt.

He continues to kiss up and down her neck and she tries... She tries to keep her hips still, but she can't.

He pulls away from the side of her face and stares into her eyes from mere inches away. She's afraid he's going to try to kiss her on the mouth. She hasn't kissed anyone that way since she met her husband.

But he doesn't kiss her on the mouth. Instead, he steps in front of her while still holding her wrists in his left hand, tilts his head the opposite way and she tilts hers as well and his lips begin to caress the other side of her neck and up to nibble softly at her earlobe, then to nip lightly at it.

Läimäys' right hand slides up the outside of her arm and his fingers slowly twine into her hair. He slowly puts pressure on her hair and tilts her head back as his lips begin to caress and nibble farther down her neck.

Farther down her neck until he hits that sweet spot she absentmindedly pinches lightly with her fingers while reading her stories.

But her fingers have never felt this good. Even her husband's lips haven't felt this good before.

He tilts his head to the other side and zeroes straight in on the same spot, sending a jolt straight to her pussy.

His lips leave her neck and she stands there, head tilted back and eyes closed, breathing hard, waiting for him to kiss her again.

When he hasn't for what seems like minutes she becomes aware that she can feel his breath on her lips and smell the peppermint on it as well.

She realizes she's opened her mouth in anticipation of being kissed and the thought of kissing a man other than her husband for the first time in decades doesn't bother her.

When another minute goes by and he still hasn't kissed her she begins to tilt her head forward to meet his lips.

"Oh Ho!! You ARE a good girl. And good girls get what they deserve!" And he pulls on her wrists and spins her around to face a table that's been pushed up against the wall.

Releasing her wrists, Läimäys says, "Put your hands on the edge of the table, little girl."

Virginia starts to step closer to the table and Läimäys grabs her hips. "No. Lean forward from here."

She leans forward and bends at the waist until she can reach the edge of the table. She places her palms right at the edge and waits to see what will happen next.

She waits. And then she feels Läimäys' foot nudge the inside of her right foot and ease it outward slightly. Then her left, until her feet are about two feet apart and her dress is starting to ride slightly up her legs.

She senses motion by her calves and she lowers her head and glance back past her hip to see Läimäys taking a knee between her spread legs. More deliciously nasty thoughts surface in her brain and she closes her eyes, but doesn't lift her head.

.

Virginia feels the palms of both of Läimäys' hands close gently on her left ankle and begin to glide slowly up her calf. She swears she can feel his hands on her skin through the material of her boots and she knows she can feel heat building in her leg and rising with his hands.

His hands crest the top of her boot and slide slightly upward to her knee and then stop, but the heat continues to rise and she can feel her cunt lips begin to swell. She silently bids his hands to continue upward, but instead they release.

She then feels those warm hands close on her right ankle and again thinks she can feel his hands through her boot as they begin to glide slowly up her leg.

And again his hands stop at her knee, just after cresting the top of her boot, and the warmth continues upward. Virginia can feel her lips swell even more and she swears she can feel her juices begin to trickle down the inside of her thigh.

"Lift your dress, little girl," Läimäys softly says and Virginia lets go of the edge of the table with her right hand and reaches back to rest it on her butt cheek. Her fingers then begin to pull that side of her dress up, inch by inch until it clears the top of her thigh-high nylon stockings.

And still she pulls it upwards until she can feel cool air across her entire ass cheek.

She continues to pull until the bottom hem of her dress is resting on the small of her back and her hand eases across her lower back and ass as she continues to expose herself to this strange man by pulling the left side up as well.

Once her dress is completely pulled up and resting on the small of her back, she automatically returns her hand to the edge of the table.

Virginia leans there with her head lowered and her eyes closed as she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until finally a hand came to rest on the outside of each ankle.

And again they began to glide slowly, oh so slowly up the outside of her legs.

Up her calves, finally over the boots to the bare skin of her knees and then...

Up the outside of her thighs and over the top of her thigh-highs and across the exposed skin of her ass cheeks.

As Läimäys' hands approach each other at the small of her back, his thumbs finally come to rest on her back.

As his hands start to drag back down her body, his thumbs glide down the center of her spine and dip into the shallow crease between her cheeks.

As they glide downward his thumbs gently part her cheeks and she can feel cool air caressing the inner portion of her crack.

She quivers as she waits for the tips of his thumbs to continue downward.

Instead, they lift from her skin.

His hands slide back down to her ankles and pause, then begin their slow trip back up her legs.

But this time... This time his thumbs were caressing the inside of her calves as they rose slowly, slowly up her calves. She shivers as those hands pause on the outside of her knees as the tips of his thumbs rub slow circles on the inside of her knees. Each upward motion of his thumbs seems to send more heat up her thighs and straight into her pussy, making it pulse in time with the strokes.

And finally those hands and those thumbs begin another slow trek upward.

Finally Virginia's head comes up as she arches her back and sucks air slowly in through her lips.

His hands continue to rise and her shivers turn to quivers as his thumbs approach her cunt.

Virginia continues to suck air slowly in through her lips as his thumbs inch closer and closer until they finally...

Pull outward to follow the crease where her thighs meet her cheeks.

And pull away from her feverish skin.

Just as she begins to wonder what he's doing and starts to turn her head, his right hand comes back down her ass cheek.

But this is no gentle caress. This hand comes down with force. His hand covers the entire cheek, as big as it is compared to her tight ass. It rests there for a moment, the heat of the hand, or the heat of the impact, or both, sinking more deeply into her body. Then it lifts.

Then the other hand comes down on her left ass cheek.

Several blows to each cheek later and her entire ass feels like it's on fire. And that heat is traveling deeper and deeper into her pussy.

Suddenly the spanks stop and Virginia feels a new sensation that causes goose-pimples to break out all over.

Läimäys takes another deep breath and goes back to blowing softly on the flushed skin of her cheeks, pausing as he passes between them to blow softly on her dripping cunt.

She's not sure what it is, but the sensation on her dripping lips is more than just cool air. It feels different and is making her feel a tingle -- and not just the tingle that would come from someone not her husband blowing on her pussy.

She barely has time to realize the blowing has stopped, though the tingle is still tingling, when she feels his hands on her hips.

He pulls her backwards by her hips until her hands leave the table. She stands up out of reflex and Läimäys easily lifts her off her feet, tosses her lightly in the air to spin around in midair before catching her again, the skirt of her dress caught between his hands and the small of her back.

Taking a step forward, he sets her lightly on the edge of the table and she hisses slightly as her burning ass makes contact with the hard surface.

"Lean back on your elbows," he says.

Virginia obeys and leans back. Läimäys runs his hands up the fronts of her calves then slides them around her knees and as he runs his palms back down her calves he lifts her legs in the air almost vertically, causing the front of her dress to slide up to her waist.

"Reach down and take your panties off."

Virginia rocks her hips to one side, then reaches down with one hand and pulls the waistband of her thong down. As it starts to slide over her ass cheek and the up her thigh she moans at the sensation of the fabric on her sensitive skin. When she rolls her hip back down, she gasps involuntarily again as her ass makes contact with the cool surface. She rolls the other way, and makes the same combination of noises as she pulls her thong over her cheek and up her thigh.