“I’ve got a special Christmas present for you, Peter,” she said on the night of the twenty-third. “Very private and personal. I'll share it with you on Christmas night at your place.” 

“Well then, I can give you mine at the same time,” I replied. 

Chloe and I always had sex at my apartment, as she still lived with her folks while she finished college. We hadn't done it often yet, as we had just started dating and we were not quite yet a "couple.”  

So the plan was to spend Christmas Eve with our own families, a portion of Christmas Day visiting each other’s kin, and apparently, Christmas Night having a more private get-together. 

It had been maybe three months since Chloe and I met at the fitness center where she was a part-time trainer. It had been only three weeks since we started dating and then began having sex. The time in-between was just a mutual friend thing.  

To tell the truth, when we first met, I kinda thought she was a lesbian, or at least fairly butch.  She wore her brown hair short and used minimal makeup on a nice, but fairly plain, face.  

She was pretty fit, but you could tell that only by the weights she lifted, because she shunned the tight, revealing gym wear many of the other ladies at the club wore.  

She wasn’t my assigned trainer. She worked only with females, but as an employee, she was friendly to everyone, helpful to all. We initially bonded over a tee-shirt I wore one day with the catch phase of a comedian we both enjoyed. We cracked each other up repeating our favorite lines from his specials. 

The first oddly sexual vibe that I got from Chloe was a few weeks later when she showed me the new mechanical massage chairs the club had installed in a small, dimly-lit room back in the area set aside for tanning beds and such. 

Most such chairs just work on your back, but these were first class, with tubes that gripped your legs and forearms three-fourths of the way around while it massaged them.  

“You know,” Chloe said, “if someone programmed these things correctly—or incorrectly, I guess—you could find yourself pinned into these things. A kind of super-comfortable bondage machine.” 

I pulled at the “restraints” and found that, even at its tightest constriction, I could get out with a bit of effort, but I saw her point.  

“Of course,” she continued, “it would be even more comfortable if you had someone to share the experience with.” 

She said it lightly and jokingly, but she was subtly looking my body up and down as I sat there. I’m no Adonis, but I was dressed in only tee-shirt and shorts. I realized that she was kind of flirting with me, in a weird way. We were alone in this section of the building. 

There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by the low hum of the chair kneading my back, butt, arms and legs.  

“Experience?” I asked, with a smile and a raised eyebrow, not knowing if I was reading her correctly. “In what way?” 

I could see her mentally weighing her options; continue a conversation with a member that could be seen as inappropriately sexual, or go for it with a friend.  

She went for it, lightly touching my naked knee.  

“You know, getting pleasure from someone in the front while you’re getting pleasure from the equipment in the back of the chair.”  

In the dim light, I couldn’t be sure, but I thought she might be blushing. Her smile turned a bit awkward and she turned to leave, clearly thinking she had gone too far.  

It was the first suggestive comment I had heard from her. Maybe she wasn’t gay, I thought. Maybe she was bi. Maybe she was shy.

I knew I wasn’t seeing anyone right then. I'm not a guy with a lot of game. Before she left the room, I took my shot.  

“Chloe, you wanna have coffee sometime?” 

 She made a face. “I don't like coffee.”  

Oh, well. 

“But I’ll buy you a drink,” she said as she turned back around. “You’re twenty-two, right?”  

I’d never mentioned my age. I guessed she had looked up my gym application.  

I told her I was. Turned out she was, too.  

Good, we were all adults around here. 

------------ 

Chloe continues the story 

That date, and the one after that, were fun but low-key, with some kissing at the end. I’ve always been a little shy, a little clumsy, in these settings.  

I was not a virgin, but not smooth at these social things. Peter was a bit better at it, but frankly, not by much, which was fine. I suspected our combined body count could be measured on one hand.  

Our third date was the sex date. Our love-making was fine, mostly a routine missionary session, where I let him control the pace and the action. 

My body is unremarkable, with modest breasts and hips. Peter did comment favorably on my firm abdomen, and my legs, which are strong, if not especially shapely.  

“You should show those off more at the gym,” he said, after an evening of looking at, and caressing, my nude body for the first time.  

“That’s not me,” I replied. I was glad we were friends before being lovers. We actually talked about personal stuff. 

“Do you ever wear revealing clothes?” he asked. “Like skirts? I’d like to see those legs. Especially in nylons or silk stockings.” 

My below-the-waist wardrobe consisted of jeans, sweats and the occasional yoga pants. I considered my legs to be plain and unremarkable.

“I think I’ve got an old prom dress somewhere,” I replied. “I don’t think it would fit anymore; I’ve bulked up a bit since then.” 

In the next couple of sex sessions, Peter wasn’t exactly domineering or rough, but he did tend to direct the action, as if he considered it his responsibility as the man to do so.  

As new lovers do, we learned about each other’s quirks and preferences. Peter wasn’t really keen on giving me head, especially if I wasn’t freshly washed so I made sure to accommodate him on that. Also, I think he wasn’t a big fan of my trimmed but natural tuft down there.  

I, however, was perfectly fine with going down on his lovely cock, a decent sized one, with nice veins that stood out when he was fully erect.  

About a week before Christmas, I was fellating him while he lay on his back and was reaching down to stroke my hair while my head bobbed. He enjoyed the sensation, of course, but I knew it would be just a couple of minutes before he’d get restless and gently push me aside to enter my pussy, which was his favorite main course.   

“You know,” I told him between periods of sucking, “it would be great to try this sometime on the massage chairs at the gym. With you unable to move or interfere. I could take my sweet, ever-loving time with you.” 

“Well,” he said, “the club’s open twenty-four hours a day, so privacy would be an issue.”  

From the region of his crotch, I gave him my best “you’re not getting what I’m getting at” look. 

“I mean,” he recovered with a smile, “that would be awesome. We’ll figure out a way to make it happen.” 

“For now,” I instructed him, “try putting your hands behind your back while you lay there. You only move when I say so. Please, Peter, try it?" 

He did and I was able to control the blow job and then climb on his cock when I felt we were both ready. I liked the way that flowed.  

And that’s the way things stood when I made the Christmas Night proposal to him. It would be a surprise in the finest spirit of the Season.  

--------------------------- 

Peter continues the tale 

I told Chloe to text me when she arrived and to let herself into my apartment with the spare key I gave her, which she did, exactly on time.  

I had purchased a pair of bondage wrist-cuffs, a collar, and a leash from a sex novelty shop. I also bought some sheer sexy men’s briefs, ones with clips on the side that could be unfastened, so I wouldn’t have to clumsily step out of them to get naked.  

I trimmed my pubic hair very short, put on the shorts and the collar just before she arrived. I secured my hands in the cuffs behind my back when I heard her enter. The key to the cuffs was on a slim chain hanging from my neck.  

I stepped out of the bedroom in that submissive outfit and looked into the living room. I had dimmed the lights and put on quiet, sexy music. I didn’t have a fireplace, but I did have a Yule log video showing on my TV screen.  

Chloe had just discarded her long coat. I had to look twice to make sure it was her and not some stranger who had just wandered into my place.  

This girl—this woman—had beautiful, full makeup on, and wore a long sexy brunette wig  That’s the first thing I noticed. 

Scanning down her body, I saw a lacy bra, a tiny thing that barely covered her nipples on those lovely B-cup boobs. Pert nipples; that was a good sign. 

Her wonderful abdomen was bare, but just above her hips she wore a thin garter belt that held up dark, almost black, smoky stockings. I had never seen her in any sexy attire before. It was a visual treat.

She noticed how I stared at that hosiery. The high heels she wore caused some fascinating curves in her calves. 

I'm a leg man, I'll admit it.

A tie-on-the-side pair of small black panties completed the erotic ensemble. This tom-boy had gone all out to highlight her femininity. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

I stepped out of the shadows in my get-up, and she just stared, wide-eyed, for a few seconds. A bemused smile broke out on her face.  

“Surprise,” she finally said in a light, high voice. She held her arms out to display her wares. “I am yours for the night, to do anything you want with.” 

Pause. 

I turned to show my cuffed hands behind me.  

“Well, actually, same here,” I replied. We both started chuckling.  

She had gotten super-feminine for me, and I had gotten all submissive for her. Obviously, our roles were incompatible; I was not the macho stud she was dressed to kill for, and she was not the “I want to take charge in the bedroom” woman I was expecting. 

“Uh, why don't you let me out of this thing, Chloe,” I said, “and we’ll start fresh.” 

“No,” she replied. “I think we can make this work.” 

She stepped up and took my leash, led me to the couch, made me kneel and then put her ankles up on both my shoulders. Threading the leash under her right thigh, she held the end of it near her hip.  

“Since you obviously love my stockings so much,” she quietly said, looking at my erection, “you should feel them firsthand.” 

Pulling on the leash, she made me slowly slide up her legs, on my knees, with her silk stocking rubbing either side of my face. I kissed them on my way in. It felt great. When I got to her crotch, she untied the knot that held her panties in place.  

Chloe had shaved her pussy for me. And the smell was enticing.  

“Lick me, my servant," she purred. "Make this woman come, and I’ll do the same for you. Eventually.” 

------------------------- 

Chloe concludes the story 

After that initial encounter, which did see me climax just from his tongue—first time for that—we took off his cuffs and moved to the bed for more traditional love-making, though I did make him keep the collar on for a while. 

A couple of hours and a couple of rounds later, we cuddled in bed, finally naked. It had been a rewarding evening. 

“Did you ever read, The Gift of the Magi ?" I asked him. “Back in high school?” 

“Rings a bell,” I replied. “What’s it about?” 

I recounted the old short story by the author O. Henry. 

“A poor young married couple get each other secret Christmas gifts. She cuts off her long, beautiful hair and sells it to a wigmaker so she can buy him an expensive fob chain for his most prized possession, a family heirloom pocket watch.” 

“I remember now,” Peter said. “In the meantime, he had sold the watch to buy her a magnificent set of combs and brushes for her super-long hair. Both sacrificed something precious to them, but neither one can use the gift they’ve received. I think my English teacher said this was a classic example of literary irony.” 

“Exactly,” I replied. “We sort of found ourselves in the same situation tonight.” 

“You made it work, Chloe,” he said. “I don’t come naturally to giving up control, and you don’t come naturally to the makeup and sexy lingerie.  Thanks for the effort, and you were...are...gorgeous, but you don’t have to wear that all the time.” 

“Well, I can work on being more feminine,” I told him. “You make me feel that way.” 

“And I’ll work on giving you more say in bed,” he said. “Obviously, you do just fine directing traffic around here. For next Christmas, though, we can go with the normal gifts, I think. You know, electronics or clothes.” 

“Think we’ll be together that long?” I teased him. 

“I’d like that,” he replied. “After all, you promised me we’d try the sex on the massage chair thing. With bondage. We could rig something similar around here.” 

“You know, the club is closed for New Year’s Eve,” I pondered. “I could offer to watch the place overnight. We could have the place all to ourselves. Might be fun.” 

The swelling of his cock told me he agreed.  

“It might indeed," he said. "Can't think of a better way to ring in the new year.”

I had the feeling it was going to be a great year.