Stocking Stuffers
A (Rather Licentious) Christmas Carol

Author: Antigone Unbound
Rating: Oh God, we're talking R-
Setting: The present-at least, for the moment. The story breaks only slightly from canon; that is, history is pretty much the same insofar as the various characters are concerned. At this point, though, Willow is working as an independent computer consultant, writing various programs for people who have lots of money. She has enough business to employ one assistant.
Disclaimer: I don't make any money off of this. I make money off of my side-line work as a prostitute to the stars. (I'll be over at ten, Jodie!)
Feedback: Please leave feedback on the Stocking Stuffers thread on the Kitten Board
Acknowledgements: Thanks to the RKT gang for letting me play. Particular thanks to Car, who is just about the most splendiferous o' gals and a swell person to bounce ideas off of. (Sorry about bouncing that one off your head, sweetie-that had to hurt.) Thank you, Chris, for finding a way to make my naughty graphics (graphic naughtiness?) work. And most of all, thank you to all the Kittens who continue to read the various works on Pens and who take the time to leave feedback. It's what makes the board special.

"Willow...please...Willow, I need you..."

Tara's voice was like hot spiced chai. Her blue eyes were luminous in the dark, and hungry. She stood in the doorway, her silk robe falling off of one shoulder, golden hair tumbling about her shoulders. Her fingertips grazed lightly but insistently over one swollen nipple. Any woman with half a brain would grab this woman, press her down into the bed, and devour her.

At this moment, though, Willow Rosenberg was dumber than a bag of hair.

"Tara, Sweetie, I need to finish this code," she replied, barely sparing a glance at the beautiful woman before her. She was staring intently at her computer screen, where she had just typed "'3_4*#&^5lt;I?hlti//~%\|aiw>ei8Dammit,Jim,I'madoctornotamiracleworker!3)*3kd8u (4~/69-4-ever/+." (Author's Note: I don't know squat about computers. I think that the preceding is harmless, but if I inadvertently - and I'd like to stress that adverb - caused a massive electrical outage in your city, or unleashed a legion of cyber-zombies into the manifest realm, then I am, like, totally sorry.) It was the latest addition to a program that would allow users to listen to political candidates' speeches and figure out what they were actually saying. For example, "I am a staunch believer in the spirit of free enterprise" translated neatly to "My biggest donors come from oil companies so if I'm elected they'll have free rein to drill the fuck out of anything they damn well want to, including your dog." In an election year, it promised to be a goldmine. "You know what it means if I bring it in on schedule."

"Willow, you're ahead of schedule. Give it a rest. Give yourself a rest. And give me an orgasm," she added, with a slight pout.

At this, Willow did look up, and a tad guiltily at that. "Tara, Baby, you know I want to-"

"What I know is that it's been three weeks since we last had sex." Tara's voice, unlike her chest, was flat.

"Really? Two weeks? No...Really?" Willow scanned back through a mental calendar.

"It was a Saturday, three weeks ago yesterday," Tara announced with finality.

"But it was good, right?"

"Well, I didn't say anything about it at the time, but-"

"Wait - you didn't like it? Oh God, Tara, tell me you didn't fake it!" Willow was mortified at the thought.

"No, I didn't. But frankly, I hadn't thought it was possible for someone to phone in cunnilingus."

"What? No way!" Willow retorted, her oral pride deeply wounded.

"Your tongue was on my clit; your mind was on your computer," Tara shot back, arms folded. "That's where your mind always is these days, Willow. Even before this project, you've been...distant. Absent. Especially in the bedroom. You stay up late every night working on one program or the other, and the days certainly aren't an option." Her tone softened. "I miss you, honey. I miss the way you look at me when you're thinking about what you want to do to this body." She slid the nightgown off her shoulders, letting it pool silently on the hardwood floors.

"You mean that look that made Anya tell Xander right in the middle of their engagement party, 'Hurry up with the gifts, Willow and Tara want to go home and have sex'?" Willow smiled at the memory. Good fuckage that night.

"That's the one, lover. And here I am, right now, all soft and...ready."

Willow almost stood up then, almost took Tara to bed and fucked her into next week. But then she remembered the deadline, and the bonus that came with beating it, and she felt her ass secure itself to the ergonomic chair once more.

"Tara, please. If I can just deliver the goods here, I'm set. We can afford to-"

"Willow, we're already set," Tara flared. "We're more than set. Since when have you been so preoccupied with money?"

"Since I realized that money lets us do lots and lots of fun things, none of which involve skulking in cemeteries and killing undead things," Willow retorted. "There's a great big world out there, Tara, and it takes money to see it all."

"See it all?" Tara asked, incredulous. "When do you anticipate actually spending any of this precious money you're making? And doesn't it bother you that our sex life is suffering because of it?" She was just this side of furious, and rapidly approaching the city limits. "We're not in any financial danger, Willow. Your last three projects alone gave us an incredible cushion." Then she drew a deep breath, which both steadied her and gave her breasts even greater prominence. "Will, it's great to have enough money to do things. I know that. Hey, it's part of what lets you give Em such a great holiday bonus." Em Cratchett was Willow's assistant. She was beautiful of countenance; generous of heart; noble of spirit.

Willow gave a guilty start that she quickly tried to hide - but nothing got by Tara.

"What? Will, you're not reducing Em's bonus, are you?"

"Not by much," Willow spluttered. "But jeez, Tara, nobody gets a bonus that big. I checked around."

Tara, who had almost taken the bypass around Fury, swerved quickly and hit it head-on. "You've got to be kidding me! Willow, you know Em has a family! There's Tiny Watty and Tiny Sally and Tiny Chris and Tiny Karinna and Tiny Justin and Tiny Cam and Tiny Davya and Tiny DW and Tiny Debra and really Tiny Asher and really really tiny Chiara and Tiny Car-"

"If she's got that many kids, why does she drive a tiny car?" Willow grumbled.

"Carleen!" Tara roared. "You met her at last year's party! The point is, Em has a family to feed."

"Yeah, well, Em has a five-mocha-a-day habit, too," Willow snapped. "Sometimes you have to make choices. And this is mine."

Tara fixed her with a blue-iced glare that was equal parts anger and still-there-for-the-taking sexual urgency. "Willow, I'm warning you - if you keep on this path, it will come to no good, either for you or for us."

"Baby, please-"

"I have staked vampires with you. I have fought demons of every make and model. I have stood with you against the very forces of hell." She paused for dramatic effect, and the effect was most dramatic. "But I will not tolerate Lesbian Bed Death." And with that, she turned and walked silently into the bedroom. Alone.

Willow watched her go, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger. Let's call it "sanger." "She just doesn't understand. Sex can't always be our top priority." And with that unintentionally ominous pronouncement, she returned to her work.



"Willow Rosenberg..."


"Hear me, Willow..."

"Tell the frogs I'll encrypt them in the morning..."


Willow's head snapped up like a freshly toasted Cherry Pop-Tart. "Wha' the...?" She stopped, frozen by the sight in front of her.

It was Faith - except that it wasn't. This woman was...

Jet-black hair streamed out behind her, shimmering and crackling as if electrified. Her full, sardonic lips were a blood-red rarely seen this side of a Bangkok brothel. She wore a leather bustier that made her bouncy bits just...well...heavens.

If the Faith that Willow knew was a cleavagy slut-bomb, this creature could have taught her everything she knew and still had enough intel left over to lead a graduate seminar. Pure, hot sexual energy poured off of her like sweat off a biker dyke at New York Pride. Willow was scared, awestruck and maybe just a teensy bit turned on.

"Who...who are you?" Her voice was tiny.

"Willow Rosenberg," the creature practically hissed, "I am the Ghost of Orgasms Past!" With the words, a scarlet flame seemed to dance from her body.

"What?!" Willow yelped, terrified and intrigued at the same time. "You heard me, Red," the spirit said dismissively. "Saying it again would only diminish the effect." She fixed Willow with an enigmatic gaze, then extended one hand almost lazily and curled her finger in a sensual, beckoning gesture.



"Come." The word seemed to echo throughout the room.

Willow glanced furtively toward the bedroom. "You can't just...order a person to do that. There's a little prep work involved..."

"Ambulation, not fornication, jack-ass.'"

"Oh. Right. Of course," Willow mumbled.

"Gotta say, though, kinda shocked you even considered the alternative, seeing as how your chair has seen more of your cunt than your partner has lately."

"Hey, I've been-"

"Yeah, yeah - busy and wrapped up and everything else. You've lost the spirit of sexual urgency, Red...but you had it once. That's where I come in. So - let's try this again: Come."

Feeling like nothing so much as an obedient cocker spaniel, Willow stepped forward and gingerly took the spirit's hand. It burned against her skin - not at all unpleasantly. She stole a quick glance at her computer's clock: 3:06am. And then she was being pulled through some kind of vortex, a warm, slick passageway that swelled and contracted against her. It seemed to go on forever, but she had no desire at all to leave it. Her breathing was labored, and yet she loved feeling her heart slam against her chest in rhythmic waves. When she finally emerged, she was both exhausted and exhilarated. Plus, she had a curious urge for a cigarette.

"Where are we?" she asked, when she caught her breath. They seemed to be standing in - of all things - a local vintage clothing store. It looked to be mid-day, by the number of customers, yet no one reacted to their sudden appearance.

"They can't see us," the spirit said in reply to Willow's unasked question.

"We're invisible? Incorporeal? Do we actually have mass? Would we register on any instruments-"

"Eyes on the prize, Prime Minister of Nerdistan." The spirit regarded her with a mixture of bewilderment and irritation. Let's call it "bewirritation." "Look around, Red. Anything ring a bell?"

"Yeah. Tara and I shop here all the time. They carry some great-"

"I know. Do not get me started on your fashion choices, Red. I'm sure there's a place out there in the world for your version of Geek Chic, but it hurts my eyes when I look at it."

"So, what - you brought me here for shopping?" Willow was just a bit peeved. Tara certainly appreciated her sartorial selections. She shared them.

"If I took you to my side of Fashion Town, you'd curl up and cry like a little baby," the spirit replied matter-of-factly. "I brought you here to jog your memory." She stared at Willow, and Willow had the distinctly rare - for her - sense of being just a tad slow. "The dressing room, Sparky. C' can do it..."

Oh...The dressing room.

"Caught the last train to Clue City, did ya?" "Faith" looked at her in sardonic amusement. "Yeah. Good time, eh? Care to look through the viewfinder?"

"Reason Number 784 that I love being a lesbian: shared dressing rooms." Willow followed Tara into the small cubicle. "I'm just your friend, helping you decide if you like that long, billowy skirt."

Tara fixed her with a wry grin. "Will, do you really think people look at us and see two friends?"

"Sure they do. I mean, two friends who fuck each other senseless on a regular basis, but friends nonetheless. Now - let's get you out of those pants."

"I wish I had a dollar for every time you've said those words." Tara kicked off her sandals and unbuckled her cargo pants, letting them fall to the floor. Willow loved watching her undress, even in a setting like this. But alas - all too soon, Tara had pulled the batik print skirt up over her calves and rounded hips. "How does it look?"

"It all happened so quickly," Willow pouted. "Take it off and put it on again, but this time do it in slow motion."

"OK, Pervey McPerveburger, let's stay focused. Do I look like a 60's reject?"

Willow rose from the tiny metal chair and pressed herself close against her lover. "You look like a woman who needs to be fucked in Retro Boho."

Tara pulled back slightly with a skeptical look, then leaned in close to whisper against Willow's ear, "Not that the idea doesn't sound lovely, but, um...Well, I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I feel kinda shy in public."

"But we're not in public, Baby - we're tucked away safely in this very, very private dressing room." She squeezed Tara's ass through the thin fabric. "And besides, if you're really feeling self-conscious - I mean, prohibitively so - there is assistance available."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean our last stop: Cyd Maru's Adult Gift Shoppe." She paused. "Have you ever noticed that porn shops always go with the Victorian English spelling? Like it'll class up the joint: 'Ye Olde Porne Shoppe'. Anyway, one of our purchases is expressly designed to facilitate arousal and receptivity, remember?"

Tara's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes - the warming 'massage oil.'"

"Exactly. And right now I'd very much like to massage your cunt."

Tara stole a look at the quite-obviously-thin dressing room door. "I don't know..."

"Please, Baby...I need you..." As she spoke, Willow's hands snaked down over Tara's legs, grabbing the gauzy fabric and hiking it slowly up her lover's thighs. "It could be so good...

Tara's breath hitched in her throat as Willow's hands ran under the skirt and stroked her gently through her panties. "Willow, are you sure-" She stopped as Willow reached up with her left hand to unbutton her shirt, and then gently squeeze her nipple through her red silk bra.

"I want to suck your breast. I want to do it here," Willow whispered as she pushed the material aside and drew out Tara's creamy flesh. "So good," she murmured, sucking the swollen nipple onto her tongue. "I love how hard it gets." She flicked her tongue over Tara's nipple, reaching in to fondle her lover's other breast. After several seconds, she made herself pull her mouth from the sweet, swollen flesh. "Let me fuck you, Tara. Please." She could tell that Tara's arousal was doing battle with her self-consciousness. "Trust me, Baby, OK? Trust me, and turn around." Tara gave her a not-quite-anxious look, and then complied, turning and putting her hands against the wall.

"That's good, Baby. Just like that." Willow pushed the skirt up over Tara's ass, and stroked her once more, feeling the heat coming off of her in waves. Sliding one hand under the waistband of Tara's panties, she pushed them lower. Then she moved in closer, pressing her right leg against Tara's and forcing it wide, spreading her legs until Tara stood open before her.

"That's it - you look so good," she whispered. "I can fuck you so good like this." She gave a quick stroke over Tara's hip, down over her damp curls. "Now bend over, Baby - lean over the chair. Bend over, so I can work myself deep into you." As she spoke, she flipped open the top of the lube and held it suspended over Tara's ass. She watched, fascinated, as a thin, glistening strand edged slowly toward the creamy skin until it dropped. Tara gave a sudden start at the cool liquid. Willow gave one more squeeze of the bottle and another shimmering strand splashed silently against Tara's ass and then trickled into the dark crevice, sliding down toward her cunt.

"Do you feel it, Baby?" she murmured. "Do you feel it, making you wetter?" Tara just nodded, biting her lip. "It's getting warmer, too, isn't it? It's gonna feel so good, pushing into you when you're so open and slick." She squeezed Tara's ass with her left hand, then slid under the hem of her shirt until she was cupping her breast. With her right hand, she followed the trickle of lubrication, dancing over each fold and opening, until she was poised at Tara's cunt.

"Are you ready? Are you ready for me to fuck you?" Tara nodded again, looking back at Willow with something akin to desperation. "But we have to be quiet. You can't let anyone hear you when I'm deep in you, stroking and pumping. I'll fuck you so good and hard, Baby, but you have to be quiet." She poised three fingers at the opening of Tara's cunt, and when Tara silently mouthed the word "now," Willow swallowed her own moaning and pushed forward, rocking Tara hard against the chair.

And it was good, so good - thrusting into Tara while her lover pressed the heel of her hand against her mouth to keep from crying out. She brought her left hand up and gripped Tara's shoulder for leverage as she pumped into her, over and over. After a moment, Tara reached down with her right hand and began to stroke her clit, and that sight almost took Willow to climax. They rocked like that, in barely silent hunger, in the dressing room of a crowded store while oblivious customers walked a scant few feet away. Willow watched the two of them in the dressing room mirror - Tara bent over, so open and ready, pushing back against Willow whose hand kept sliding and thrusting into that sweet, hungry warmth.

She knew Tara so well - knew exactly how her body tensed right before she came; how her back arched slightly and her legs quivered and so she could tell now that Tara was going to come - come hard against her while Willow had three fingers buried in her, her own cunt soaking her jeans. And when it happened, Tara's climax was so forceful that her knees buckled, and Willow had to react quickly to keep her from slumping to the floor. They huddled there, Willow still deep in Tara's cunt with her left hand wrapped around her waist, until their eyes met and a sudden wild urge to laugh swept over both of them.

"How's everything coming in there?" The abrupt, crashing voice of the salesperson cut its way through their fog.

Tara stared at Willow, eyes wide, and then cleared her throat. "Really well," she managed.

"Good!" chirped the disembodied voice. "Customer satisfaction is our Number One priority!"

"Color me satisfied," Tara offered back, and then turned to Willow. "Looks like we're buying the skirt."

The scene melted before her.

"Gotta say, Red, even I'm impressed. You rocked the house."

"That was two years ago," Willow murmured, more to herself than to "Faith." "It seems like forever."

"Yeah, well, of course it does. You've been creaming for your business lately, not your girl. Ain't healthy, girlfriend."

Willow gave her a wry grin. "Not five by five?"

The spirit just stared at her. "Five by five? What the fuck does that mean? Now sixty-nine by sixty-nine - that's a dimension I can live with. C'mon. We're not done." She took Willow's hand once again, and once again they were sucked into that warm, slick passage. Willow closed her eyes and gave herself over to the urgent thrumming that grew more and more insistent until with one final spasm (she dimly heard herself call out "A little to the left"), she collapsed onto her own bedroom floor. Instead of seeing Tara asleep, however, she found herself staring at a kind of shimmering pool of light upon their bed.

"The site of some of your greatest hits, Red. Take a look." The spirit gave her a nudge and she stepped closer to the bed. Gazing down into the swirling light, she saw scene after scene unfolding before her...

"Yeah, Baby - like that...Oh God, yes, and hold - hold there, don't move; please don't stop..."

"Tara, we only have fifteen minutes before the gang gets here."

"It won't take that long. Feel how wet I am." She grabbed Willow's hand and slid it roughly down her pants. "Don't you want to fuck me? Don't you want to make me come, suck my clit-" Willow kissed her with a groan, sliding her fingers over Tara's slick, swollen cunt. She would make her come so hard, suck her cunt so good...

Willow couldn't see anything; couldn't move. The blindfold had left her in utter darkness; the silk ties left her arms and legs spread wide. She strained for any indication of Tara's presence, but the low music was just loud enough to drown out any other sound. Suddenly, she caught a faint trace of Tara's sandalwood oil; felt the bed shift slightly. "Tara," she whispered. Warm breath brushed against her ear. "Shh, lover - hush...You have to be patient...I'll take you when I'm ready." Silence, as Willow bit her lip to keep from crying out her frustration. What was she doing? Why wouldn't she - and then, oh God, Tara was devouring her breasts, squeezing them together, sucking one nipple and then the next, biting gently and then not so gently. Willow was desperate to arch her cunt into Tara, to feel that contact and when she felt Tara loosening the ties on her ankles she thought her lover might grant that wish but it was only to push her legs back, to open her wider. "Do you know what I have? Do you know what I'm going to do?" Willow felt something - soft, but firm - pressing against her opening. Tara's hand slid under her ass, lifting her gently. "You're ready, aren't you, lover? Ready for me. For what I'm going to do to you..." and then a sudden push as Willow felt herself being entered, having her cunt filled - so good; so full - and Tara had spread her lips with her thumbs and was stroking her clit as she rocked back, pulled almost completely out - "Don't; don't stop, please" - and held at Willow's entrance - "Please, Baby, give it to me, don't take it away" - and finally thrust back in so hard and so deep that Willow couldn't keep from crying out, couldn't keep from crying Tara's name even though she was supposed to be quiet and she knew Tara's hand was going to slap against her ass because she wasn't supposed to make any noise but she couldn't stop, how could she stop...

The pool shimmered once more, brightly, and then dissolved and Willow found herself in her study once more. "Faith" was standing beside her, nodding her approval.

"Girl, you got serious sex skills, and the two of you together...That's good mojo; I mean, really hot stuff and remember, this ain't my first time on the circuit."

Willow, who was actually struggling not to climax herself at that very minute, looked back toward her bedroom with a mixture of lust and regret. Let's call it... "rust."

"God, we really are good together, aren't we?"

"You were. Lately you've been a slacker, hacker. Can't take this stuff for granted. What the two of you have - it's special, and it takes work to keep it that way."

"I know - it's just, there's so much work to do, and..."

"Listen, I've shown you what you had, what you can have again." The spirit shrugged. "My work here is done."

"Wait - is that it? I just need to refocus?"

But "Faith" merely grinned at her. "Oh, your night's just beginning, Red. Remember - the best things always come in threes." And with that, the spirit began to glow, incandescent and molten-hot, and Willow felt the air splinter apart with the force of her energy...

And then she was gone.

The clock read 3:09am.

"OK, so that was just a little surreal." She didn't doubt that it had happened. Life in Sunnydale, unless you were psychotic or painfully stupid, taught you that the strange and the bizarre were not the least bit so within this particular area code. But would there really be-

As if on cue, as if someone were actually writing this as a story, the air crackled again...albeit less dramatically so. The faint smoke cleared, and standing in front of her was - Buffy. Except not.

"Good. You're still awake. That'll make things much quicker." Willow stared at her. The blond spirit was certainly attractive, though in a far more...controlled way than her predecessor. She was stylishly dressed, and her eyes seemed to radiate a kind of contained heat. She had a faintly abstracted air about her.

"I'm assuming you are..."

"Oh, right. I am - drum-roll, please - the Ghost of Orgasms Present," the spirit said, as a perfectly respectable flare of light shot from her fingers.

"And you're going to show me the sex life I currently have, right?" Willow asked, already dreading the slide-show.

"That's right," the spirit nodded. "I don't have a lot of time, but then again - this shouldn't take long."

"Hey," Willow protested. "It's not like I've been out behind the barn drinking moonshine and sleeping it off in the daytime."

"Oh, I understand," the ghost assured her. "I know what it's like to be busy and just not have much time for the people you say you love."

"I do love Tara, dammit! She knows that." Willow was quickly moving from anxious to irked.

"Easy, Will - I believe you. Sometimes you just don't have the luxury to really focus on the purely recreational side of things. There's work to be done. People depend on you." The spirit gave her a quick one-armed hug that Willow assumed was meant to be reassuring, and then glanced at her watch. "C'mon, let's get going. I think we only have the one stop."

One time in three weeks...

"Here. Take a look." The spirit snapped her fingers and a long mirror appeared, hanging in mid-air.

"Wait - shouldn't through that tunnel again?" Willow asked hopefully.

But "Buffy" just shook her head. "Oh, she loves to do that stuff - all the bells and whistles. This is every bit as effective, and much quicker. Step up - get a good look."

Just as she had expected, Willow looked in on a scene from their bedroom. Tara was lounging playfully in bed. "C'mon, Sweetie - hop in. I'll warm you up. I have lots of ways to raise your core body temperature." She gave Willow her most lascivious look, but even now Willow could feel it glancing off of her. She remembered thinking that it would be good to relax.

Watching the scene unfold, Willow was staggered at the difference between this episode and the porn flick montage she'd just watched. Here she was rushed, and focused almost entirely on herself.

And then, to her supreme horror, the mirror began to talk.

In a terse, disembodied voice, it began to speak her thoughts.

It's 9:30...I can still get a good three, three and a half hours in after this...

God, Tara really is so gorgeous...I'm lucky to have her...

No, Baby, I don't want a big production...I don't need my fingers sucked...

I'll focus on her. I'll make her feel good, and it won't take me long after she comes...I wonder if she's wet?

And though Willow would never have believed it possible, she watched as she did indeed phone in her cunnilingus. Worse still, she saw Tara's face - really saw it - as Willow went down on her. Even in the middle of it all, cradling Willow's head against her, pushing hard against her tongue, Tara looked...frustrated. Frustrated, and a little angry, and more than a little sad. Her orgasm, when it came, seemed more like a release from tension than the kind of swing-from-the-treetops exuberance they'd always sparked in each other.

"I don't want to watch this anymore," she managed, fighting back tears, as she wheeled to face the spirit. "I know this isn't good. I know it's not what we both deserve."

"Buffy" looked at her sympathetically. "Don't take it so hard, Will. Most couples let the spark die after a while. I mean, this seemed nice enough."

"I don't want nice," Willow said, pleadingly. "Don't get me wrong, nice is nice and all, and I know we can't go around fucking in department stores all the time, but this...I'm not even really with her. It's one thing to have basic good old sex if it's good old sex, but I - I just wanted to make her come and get back to work."

The blond spirit shook her head, honeyed tresses falling lightly on her shoulders. "Willow, it's hard to keep the focus, I know that, especially when there are so many other things that you have to take care of. People always want more of you than they can have, even the people you love." She stole another glance at her watch.

"And just where the hell else do you have to go tonight?" Willow demanded.

"Oh - I'm sorry. There are just things I need to do. Important things. It's not that your situation isn't important; it totally is. It's just...well, I really should get going."

"Wait," Willow cried. "I can change this, right? I mean, Tara isn't ready to leave me, is she?"

"Sorry, Will," the spirit said, and she seemed sincere. "But there are all these other things that I really need to get to." And with that - along with a small, very controlled burst of light - the ghost was gone.

Willow looked at her clock: 3:12.

She sank into her chair and stared off into space. Had she truly gotten that obsessed with work? Had she really let Tara fall that far down on her to-do list, when doing Tara had long been her first priority?

After a moment, she gave a heavy sigh and gestured at the empty space before her. "Let's go. Spirit Number Three, show yourself."

But to her surprise, there was only silence.

"C'mon, temporal tart. It's time for your close-up."


"I'm waiting on you, Ghost of Orgasms Future-"



Was it possible? Was her future that bleak? Would she really live in a No-Cum Zone?

No. No way. She wouldn't have any other orgasms?

As if on cue - once again, Willow had the strange sense that someone else was scripting all of this - a tiny light flared in the corner of the room.

"Who's there?" Willow asked uneasily. But the only response was a dim hum.

"Who is it? Ghost? Who are you? What are you?"

The hum grew slightly louder, and then a tiny little voice squeaked out, "I am the Ghost of Orgasms Future." If there was a body attached to the voice, Willow couldn't see it.

"In the future I have sex with an elf?" Willow asked, confused. After all, this was Sunnydale, and you really couldn't rule anything out.

"Come closer," piped the little voice. "Gaze upon your erotic future."

In spite of her grave reservations, Willow stood and edged slowly over to the corner whence - apparently - dwelt the last of her visitors that night. Peering closely, Willow saw, suspended in the air...a Pearl Krystal G-Lander, 7 inches, available at fine adult stores everywhere at a retail price of $23.99.

"My sexual future consists of a vibrator?" Willow yelped.

"It would appear so."

"'re not even a fancy vibrator! I mean, there aren't any attachments or anything."

"Since I'm a mechanical object, I won't take that personally. But you don't go for fancy. In the future, your orgasms are fairly perfunctory affairs. You feel tension - sexual or otherwise - and you use any number of means to reduce that tension. I am one of those means. Let me also add that you haven't needed to change the batteries since you got me."

"But..." She could barely bring herself to ask the most important question. "Where's Tara?"

"Tara grew tired of waiting. She started spending more and more time at her volunteer work, and struck up a friendship with-"

"No! That can't happen!" Willow was on the verge of a truly monumental crying jag.

"It's what does happen - should you not change your ways," the tiny little plastic pleasure piece said.

"I'll change my ways! I will! I'll - I'll cut back on work and the two of us will go on vacation and we'll read dirty stories to each other and have the kind of sex that leaves you without the use of your legs for about three hours afterward and-"

"If you do so, you can have a different future," Pearl replied. "But I'm not the one you should be saying this to."

Suddenly the Ghosts of Orgasms Past and Present shimmered into view.

"She's right," the Ghost of Orgasms Present said. "If that's what you want, that's what you can have."

"So what are you doing talking to us, Red?" asked the uber-sexy Ghost of Orgasms Past. "Wake your girl up and fuck her 'til the Cubs win the Series. Just get to it."

"Yes...Yes!" Willow cried, wiping her eyes and laughing. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Thank you - thank you so much for showing me the error of my sexual ways! I promise, I'll never give you reason to visit me again!" And with those words, she ran into the bedroom and shook her life partner awake, kissing her passionately and pledging vows of eternal love and her commitment to jungle sex of the best kind.

Back in the study, the three ghosts looked at each other.

"Wow - we were really efficient," commented the Ghost of Orgasms Present. "I think this was a record. what?"

"Well, HoMary's writing this story," the Ghost of Orgasms Past replied, "so I'm guessing you and me are gonna fuck."

"What about me?" asked the Ghost of Orgasms Future, and her tiny little voice sounded almost plaintive.

"Hey - the best things cum in threes," laughed the Ghost of Orgasms Past. "Join us."

It was mid-afternoon of the following day. Willow and Tara had finally fallen asleep at 9:30 that morning, after engaging in a wide variety of sexual practices that included a new game, "Let's pretend that the Ghost of Orgasms Past is watching us and judging our performance." Tara was slightly mystified by the concept, but Willow's enthusiasm brought her around.

Finally, after a long and restorative nap, they awoke - simultaneously, of course.

"Sweetie, I understand if you want to do a little work," Tara said contentedly.

"No - no work today. But I do want to go out with you," Willow replied.

Tara propped herself up on one elbow, looking at Willow quizzically. "Out? Where?"

"Someplace very special," was Willow's only reply. So they showered, and then played a quick game of "Tennis competitors in the post-match locker-room finally give in to the passion that had fueled their heated rivalry" and then they needed to shower again.

"I'll drive," Willow said cheerfully as they hopped into their Prius. Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into Em Cratchett's driveway.

"I want to give Em her bonus early," Willow grinned as Tara lit up. Just then Tiny Car bounded out the door and down the walk. Willow picked her up and swung her up on her shoulders.

"You look happy, Willow," the cherubic child said.

"I am, Tiny Car - I am happy."

"Well, I would say, 'God bless us, every one!'" Tiny Car replied thoughtfully, "but I'm still figuring out my spiritual beliefs and I don't want to say something I don't fully believe." Tiny Car was very advanced for her age.

Willow wrapped an arm around her partner and gazed into those incredible blue eyes. "Then maybe we just say...'Use it, or lose it.'"

"What does that mean, Willow?" Tiny Car asked, puzzled, because she wasn't that advanced.

But Willow didn't answer. She was too busy kissing her girlfriend.


Continue to Stocking Stuffers story four: Highland Spirit

Return to Story Archive
Return to Main Page