Around nine o’clock in the evening, Kara and her girlfriends made their way from the dining room table to the living room. She was pleased with how her party was going. When she had volunteered to hold the annual gathering, she was intent on doing it all classy. Her friends had offered their suggestions, but she vetoed themes such as A Leather & Lace Christmas or A Vivacious Vixen Christmas. This would be a refined Christmas party for ladies.

So after all her planning and preparation, she thought everything was turning out to be really good -- damn good. In fact, it was better than damn good. It was damn great. No, fuck that. It was awesome! In fact, it made her all giddy imagining that Santa himself was going to stop by and proclaim hers to be the most fucking amazing her Christmas party in the whole goddamn world…

“You really slipped a hell of a lot of rum in Kara’s nog,” Allyson whispered, leaning in close to Tru on the sofa. “She looks loaded with the holly jolly’s.”

“My fault she drank five cups of it?” Tru whispered back. “Her sweet potato pie with the homemade marshmallows broke me. She made the fucking marshmallows.”

“Not blaming you,” Allyson said, adjusting her reindeer antlers, “Just wanted to say good work.”

The two of them, along with Fatema and Peri who were seated on the rug, watched as Kara stumbled around the room, semi-delirious. She appeared ready to float away, buoyed by her rum-enhanced holiday cheer.

“Mmm! Do you know how much I love this nog?” she chuckled, taking another satisfying swig of sickly sweetness.

“You did make it,” Tru said.

“Oh, yeah?” Kara asked. She melted basking in her own glow. “Oh, yeah.”

Tru refilled her cup. “Everything has been so perfect, Kara. I’m beginning to wonder if you aren’t the lovechild of Martha Stewart and one of Santa’s elves.”

Kara’s pink face went full puppy-dog. “Aww, thank-you!”

Fatema flashed a scolding frown toward Tru. She said to Kara, “Dinner was amazing! That must have been a lot of work.”

The others concurred with nods and appreciative words.

“See?” Kara said, waggling her finger, “Isn’t this more fun than being naughty?”

“Absolutely,” Fatema replied.

Allyson nodded. “Yep, like partying with The Three Wisemen.”

Kara tried to clap her hands, resembling a trained seal. “Okay! Who’s ready for some fun?”

“Two hours ago,” muttered Tru.

Kara skipped over to the tree, grabbed a red, satin sack and twirled around. “Gift exchange time!”

The room filled with a chorus of “Ooh!”

Plopping down on her chair, she announced, “Okay, you all have your numbers?”

Everyone held up a slip of paper.

“Allyson, you’re number one?” Kara asked.

“Yep.”

Kara thrust the sack forward. “Close your eyes and reach in.”

Allyson pulled out the first present wrapped in wintery silver foil paper. She opened her eyes and unwrapped it.

“What the hell… ?” she said.

“Oh good, it’s a rainbow strap-on,” Tru mused.

Kara’s eyes nearly popped out and fell into her gaping jaw.

“No! It’s a unicorn horn!” laughed Peri. She pointed at the twisty, sparkly headpiece. “See? You wear it on your head!”

The others shared another exclamatory chorus of “Oh!” followed immediately by a noticeably less-enthusiastic “Oh”. Even Kara had to take another heavy gulp of her tasty eggnog to hide any evidence of momentary regret.

“Would’ve been more fun if it was a strap-on,” sighed Tru.

Peri shrugged. “I like unicorns,” she conceded. “Kara said we were supposed to get jokey gifts.”

“Well, there’s no doubt that it’s a Peri-type gift,” Fatema agreed.

Allyson was about to set aside her present when Kara said, “You have to wear it, Al.”

“I do?”

“It’s the rules.”

“There are rules?” everyone asked.

“Here,” Kara said, emphatically slapping the rule sheet onto the coffee table. She pecked it with her finger. “‘Rule one: She who pulls it, uses it.’”

Allyson asked, “And if Fatema pulls out a weed-whacker? She has to whack in front of everyone right now?”

“I’m certain there isn’t a weed-whacker in the sack, Al,” Fatema chuckled and added, “Just put the horn on.”

“On my head?”

“The way it was meant to be used,” sighed Fatema, nodding.

Peri chirped, “Do the horn, Al!”

Beaten, Allyson donned the mystical spiral spike on her forehead. Along with her antlers, silvery-blonde hair, and white dress, she looked like a fugitive from a Greek opera. “Okay,” she said, “I’ve done the deed. Who gets sloppy seconds?”

Peri’s hand popped up. Kara held the sack out for her petite friend. She closed her eyes, reached in and pulled out a long package in rather enticing red and black satin fabric wrapping.

“Wow,” she said, “looks kinda sexy!”

Allyson’s eyes widened. She sat up and stammered, “Oh! Umm… “

Tru noticed her jolt in anxiety and nudged her. She returned a look of impish apprehension.

Peri and the other two eyed Allyson, curious. She pursed her lips, then finally just waved her hands. “Nevermind. Go ahead, Peri,” she said, grinning, “Merry Christmas!”

Peri pulled the wrapping off. Once more, Kara’s living room was struck by blunt silence, aside from Allyson’s stifled snickering.

“Oh… Man-dingo!” Fatema whistled.

“Well, it’s not a weed-wacker,” Tru said, tilting her head.

Kara, shaken like a rum-filled snow globe, simply squeaked, “Fuck.”

Peri gripped the tall box in her hands, gaping at the words imprinted on its ample length: “Black Bubba: XXX-Large Ebony double-dildo”.

With everyone suddenly stuck in cryogenic freeze, Allyson piped in, “That… actually wasn’t the gift I brought for the exchange.

I got a pair of snowman oven mitts. Kara must’ve mixed them up and put that in the sack.”

“A giant schlong needs a giant sack,” Tru remarked.

“Al,” Fatema asked, “to whom were you planning on giving that?”

Allyson raised a hesitant finger toward Kara.

“Me?” Kara said, barely able to point at her own nose.

“Her?” Peri and Fatema chimed.

“It was Tru’s idea,” Allyson chuckled.

Tru huffed, “I figured Kara could use a new one.”

Kara blinked then blurted, “I never had one!”

“Really?” asked Tru. “I thought you must whittle one down to a pencil tip monthly.”

“Don’t worry, Kara,” Allyson said, “you can grind on this for a while. Fatema, I hope you don’t find this big black dick stereotype offensive.”

Fatema smirked. “It would only offend me if this is shorter than twelve inches with a circumference less than a pool noodle.”

Everyone quivered in quiet reflection imagining what sort of formidable endowments were bestowed upon Fatema’s many dark boy-toys.

“Okay,” Kara bleated, her heart all a jingle as she attempted to move on, “Who’s number three?”

“Wait!” Tru interjected. “Did we forget rule one?”

Eyebrows popped in her direction.

Tru said, “Ahem... ‘She who opens it, uses it.’”

Everyone suddenly regarded Peri and realized she was still holding the big box aloft like a bunny restraining a mamba.

Kara’s vocabulary escaped her.

“‘Use it’, use it?” Peri eked.

Tru nodded. “The way it was meant to be used.”

Fatema placed a hand on Peri’s shoulder. “Tru’s kidding. You don’t have to…”

“Why not? Do the dildo, Peri,” Tru said.

To everyone’s surprise and chagrin, Peri sighed softly, “Okay.” She tore open the box.

Allyson edged up in her seat as if preparing to watch overtime at a hockey game while Kara tried to utter something. Tru pushed another cup of nog into her hands.

Peri gripped the imposing length of midnight-black silicone in both hands. It looked like an eel wearing shiny kaizer helmets on both ends. Her green eyes appeared cross-eyed as she gazed at it. She licked her lips slowly, causing an unexpected skittery stir in everyone.

With amazement, admiration, and masked arousal, they silently watched as their friend stretched down the collar of her sweater revealing the glow from the top of her white bosom nestled in a black bra. She stuffed one end down, nuzzling it between her breasts and behind the clasp of her bra. It slinked around her belly, bulging her sweater. The upper tip stabbed upward in front of her nose.

She regarded her friends, eyes glimmering. “Feels nice.”

“I bet it does.” Tru nodded, grinning tellingly.

Peri’s tongue flicked out, licking the head of the dildo. She giggled.

Four sets of eyebrows twisted with fascination and consternation as they all watched Peri paste her pink tongue around it as if it was a licorice popsicle. She dropped spit on it then ran her tip along the path of one of the protruding ‘veins’, swishing it around the head. Soon, the black rod was slick and shimmering from her saliva which ran down the length of it, dripping on her bosom.

Both Kara and Allyson leaned forward in their seats. Each time they heard Peri gulp or slurp, it elicited an agonized shudder within Kara. Allyson simply nodded with approval.

Fatema grinned and said, “You go.”

Peri moaned as she weaved her head around the rubber cock, orally attacking it from all angles. She was about to plunge her mouth upon it when Tru suddenly announced, “Okay. Enough.”

Everyone froze and looked at her as if the lights were suddenly turned on in an x-rated theater.

“My turn,” she announced, holding up ‘Number Three’.

With their peepshow cut short, Allyson and Fatema sat back frowning. Blankly, Kara held the sack out.

Tru shook her head then read from the rules sheet: “‘She who wants it, takes it.’”

She stood and swiped the dildo from the clutch of Peri’s bosom. The woman with the elf hat looked like a forlorn kid whose bike was just stolen from underneath her.

“Umm, Tru,” Fatema interrupted, pointing at the rules, “Did you peruse rule three?”

“I did,” Tru said with an assured nod. “‘She who takes it, shares it.’”

Kara dragged her hands down her face.

“Meaning?” Peri asked, wiping her mouth.

“Meaning… “ Tru said, pointing the dildo at Allyson, “Stand up.”

Allyson jumped to her feet, unicorn horn, antlers and all. “Oh, yeah!”

Fatema and Peri gawked and giggled as Tru and Allyson both grabbed hold of the giant dildo and spread their lips around it like two ends of a jumbo dog. Kara’s wrung her skirt with her fingers.

Indulgent gasps swelled as Tru and Allyson slid the black dong into their gaping mouths. They hummed and purred as they pressed the bulbous heads against their throat and cheeks. Swept up in their intimate festivities, Tru’s free hand slipped down and cupped Allyson’s crotch.

“That’s it!” Kara shouted, tossing aside the bag. She stood and confiscated the dildo from their tight mouths with a plump “pop” from each. She wasn’t even aware of why she was so upset but, emboldened by the rush of rum through her veins, she corralled her friends and shoved them out of her apartment.

“Lovely time!” Tru chimed over the commotion. The others thanked her with a mix of earnest bewilderment.

Kara chased them with a hearty, “Merry fucking Christmas!”

Ten minutes later, Kara slumped in her chair, oven mitts over her face and the offending thick, black dildo still in her hand. The rum continued to disorient her.

A knock at her door elicited an aching moan. Another knock finally dragged her from the chair.

Opening the door, she groaned, “What is it?”

Fatema stood there leaning on the doorframe. She held up her number slip. “I didn’t have my turn.”

Kara hesitantly asked, “You want me to get the sack?”

Fatema smirked and shook her head. She took the dildo from her and said, “She wants, she takes… ”

Kara’s face flushed red like Rudolph’s nose as her friend took her hand.

“... and she shares.”

With that, Fatema led Kara back into her apartment and shut the door, intending to settle in for a long winter’s nap.