From the outside Miguel looked like the perfect family man. He’d emigrated from Spain to England twenty-three years ago, started a successful business, married his beautiful wife Lisa, and had a son, James, who was now at university. 

However, Miguel knew he was a bad man. His current sin was that he was staring. He was staring at Chloe, James' girlfriend, whom he had brought home for Christmas.

She was twenty, petite, and redheaded, with that particularly English complexion that still made his stomach flip after two decades and had been one of the reasons he moved to the UK in the first place. 

From the moment James introduced her, Miguel hadn’t stopped thinking about her. He couldn't stop picturing her in all sorts of positions that he really, really shouldn't.

The first afternoon they spent decorating the tree, she'd reached up to hang a bauble, and her jumper rode up, exposing a strip of pale stomach. Miguel had dropped the box of ornaments he was holding.

He had tried to suppress his thoughts but to no avail. He had to sneak off and rub one out in private. That was the first time he came thinking about Chloe; it was not the last. 

The next day, he had to sneak out three times that day to relieve himself just to stop him from jumping her in front of everyone.  

She didn't seem to notice him. Why would she? He was her boyfriend's middle-aged father.

But he was obsessed. 

Every night he lay next to Lisa, picturing Chloe. It was wrong. It was sick. It made him harder than he'd been in years.

And if Lisa found out what he was thinking, she'd make him pay

On Christmas Eve, they all went for a walk. Miguel hung back, watching her walk. Her body was slim and delicate, and his mind filled with images. Those legs, wrapped around him, pulling him in as he thrust into her, making her moan. He considered slipping away and jerking himself off behind a bush, but he couldn’t find a chance where he wouldn’t have been noticed. 

That night, at about 11 o’clock, Miguel had finished getting ready for bed, but he really needed to piss. Lisa was in their ensuite, so he went out of the bedroom and headed down the hall to the family bathroom, but there was someone showering in there. 

He headed downstairs in his boxers, going for the kitchen and a glass of water whilst he waited, his mind filled with thoughts of Chloe in the shower. 

He must have been daydreaming for quite a while, as he didn’t even notice someone else entering the kitchen.

"Bathroom's free."

He spun. Chloe stood in the doorway wearing an oversized Christmas jumper that barely reached her thighs.

"I was just getting a drink," he managed.

"Right." She started to leave, then paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

His stomach dropped. "I don't! I mean, like, what?"

"You do. All week. Like you're starving and I'm dinner." She stepped closer. "I wasn't sure at first. Thought maybe I was imagining it. But I'm not, am I?"

Miguel’s heart was in his throat; he couldn’t think straight. He tried to think of what he could say, but, through the haze of panic, he noticed she didn’t seem angry. She had an almost predatory smile on her normally innocent face.

She kissed him. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and Miguel didn’t resist. This is what he had been desperate for, and she was handing herself to him. He couldn’t stop himself. Pulling her against him, his cock already hardening.

Lisa would destroy him for this if she found out.

"Fuck," he breathed, breaking the kiss. "This is wrong."

"I know." Chloe dropped to her knees. "That's the point." It seemed she was on the naughty list too.

She pulled his boxers down, grinning at the sight of his erect cock springing free. She leant in, licking her lips, and tasted the tip. She moaned like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted and slid down further; soon his whole cock was in this pretty little vixen's mouth. 

"¡Hostia!" he hissed, reverting to Spanish. She looked up at him the whole time, keeping eye contact as she used her mouth expertly, and he'd never seen anything hotter.

He was already so close, but he didn’t want it to end right then. Even if it increased the chances of them being discovered. He had to have every inch of Chloe.

He pulled back and hauled her up onto the counter.  As she gasped for breath, he shoved her jumper up. She wasn’t wearing anything else, the little tease.

Her pussy was already wet, glistening. He buried his face between her thighs.

He licked her slowly at first, then faster and harder, his tongue circling her clit before dipping inside. She tried to stay quiet, but small whimpers escaped.

"Fuck, right there," she breathed as her thighs clamped around his head. His tongue found her clitoris. 

Miguel couldn’t believe it, but she seemed just as eager and turned on by this as he was. It took only minutes before he felt her thighs tremor uncontrollably, and then she was cumming, flooding his mouth, her pussy clenching around his fingers. “¡Qué rico!” he muttered as her juices flowed over him. 

Before she finished, he was standing, his cock in hand.

"Wait!" she started, but he was already pushing inside.

Tight. So fucking tight. Her cunt gripped him like a vice as he bottomed out, both of them freezing for a second at the sensation.

Then he fucked her. His desperation of the last few days finally got release as he felt Chloe’s body against him, her cunt enveloping his cock. He was going flat out, pounding for all he was worth. 

"Harder," she demanded, and Miguel didn’t think he could, but her tone made it clear it wasn’t just a suggestion. 

He fucked her like he was trying to break her, to fuck his guilt and his shame and his need right into her pussy. She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his arse, pulling him deeper.

"¡Joder!," he growled as her hand slipped between them, fingers working her clit whilst he fucked her and pleasure built across her pretty little face.

That face was a contradiction; it looked innocent and pure, but there was a lust in her eyes burnt into him, making him thrust harder and faster and more desperately than he ever thought possible. 

She was panting and moaning. Miguel could just make out the words "Fuck, I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Sí. Sí. Cum for me, pequeña."

She shattered, spasming around him and dragging him with her. He buried himself deep and came, his cock pulsing, filling his son's girlfriend with his seed.

They stayed frozen, breathing hard until Miguel's bladder reasserted itself. He really needed to pee.

He pulled out. Cum dripped down her thigh as she slid off the counter as he ran to the bathroom. He peed, washed, splashed water on his face, and tried to process what he'd done.

He tried to quietly slip back into the bedroom, but Lisa was sitting up in bed, lamp on, tablet in hand.

"Enjoy yourself?"

His stomach plummeted. "What?"

She showed him the screen, which showed a view of the kitchen. He knew what it was. The elf on the shelf camera they had bought years ago to see if James was sneaking downstairs on Christmas. Now it was just used by Lisa to catch Miguel's indiscretions. Lisa had a knack for knowing exactly where and when Miguel was going to be naughty, and she made sure he was punished for it. Thoroughly. 

"Cariño…” 

"Strip."

He obeyed, hiding his slight smile.

"You fucked your son's girlfriend." Lisa hissed, lifting a paddle. "On Christmas Eve."

"I'm sorry."

SMACK. "You couldn't keep your cock in your pants for three days."

The pain was exquisite. He gripped the bedpost, already hard again.

"What kind of man does that?" SMACK. "What kind of father?"

"A terrible one," he groaned.

"The worst." SMACK. "Absolutely vile."

She was relentless. Each strike harder, his arse burning, his cock leaking.

"I saw you watching her." SMACK. "I just knew you'd do something stupid." SMACK "This was too far, Miguel." SMACK. "Even for us. James's girlfriend."

"I know, I know!"

Church bells began to chime for Midnight Mass. It was Christmas Day.

Lisa’s free hand wrapped around his cock, starting to stroke in time with her paddling, as she leaned in, her lips at his ear.

"Merry Christmas, you naughty fucking bastard."