Blissemas Day 6 – Louisa Bacio!


Day 6 of Blissemas and Louisa Baccio is in the elf dress today check out her Blissemas post and remember to comment to be in to win the Blissemas Kindle Paperwhite stuffed full of smut! Check out what books are on it and all the terms and conditions on the Grand prize page.

Our spot prize sponsor today is the super Uber kinky! Check out their prize and be in to win.


The Blissemas bonus today comes from Festive Handbag, a tale of love, buses and handbags.

festive handbag

A designer handbag is all she wants but he desires domination this Christmas. When Patrick breaks up from his girlfriend on Christmas eve he is faced with another Christmas spent all alone. But then he meets Kelly. She is curvy, confident and happily plays Mistress making Patrick’s Christmas dreams come true.

But will he be able to fulfil her kinky fantasy in return?


“What’s your girlfriend like?” She barely whispered it, drawing my attention to her plump lips.

“Ex-girlfriend.” I smiled. “She’s a model.”

“Oh.” Kelly’s face pulled down into a frown, her brow wrinkled

“High maintenance, too skinny, bitchy and demanding,” I added. “It was only sheer vanity on my behalf that kept her around. It made me feel young and cool to be dating a real, live model. It was a shit relationship though. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“Oh, we all do that.” She nodded. “Being left for a young chit of a girl certainly made me feel like the fool.” “No, love.” I shook my head. “He was the fool for leaving you.”

I meant it sincerely, and as her eyes scanned my own, she must have seen a sparkle of that honesty. She leant forward just a fraction and our lips stopped just millimetres apart.

A loud honking noise made us jump apart, cheeks blazing.

“Oh, that’ll be the thirty-seven. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I took a shuddering breath as Kelly’s shapely bottom encased in tight, navy polyester exited the room. I couldn’t remember ever being so instantly attracted to a woman, and it seemed she was attracted to me, too. I was scared I was just imagining it, though. I was on the rebound after all.

I didn’t want to hurt her. She’d already been prated around by some wanker with a schoolgirl fetish. A Christmas Eve one-night-stand was not going to make her feel any better. And that’s all I thought I could realistically offer her. Instant chemistry like we had couldn’t possibly last forever, could it?

“Is this it?” She breezed back in, my bag in her hand.

“That’s it. Thank you.”

“So, you’re a cross dresser.” Her face was straight and solemn apart from one corner of her mouth that gave away the amusement hidden in her eyes.

“No,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Though I can be if it’s what you like.”

Her laugh was a warm, cheering sound like reindeer bells on a cold night.

“No, love, that’s quite all right…well, not on the first date, anyway.”

“Are you asking me out?” I grinned and took the bag from her outstretched hand.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head as if agreeing with herself. “Yes, I am. I finish in forty minutes. We could go and grab a bite to eat if you like.”

“That’d be great.” I was pleasantly stunned. What else could I have said?

“I’m so glad you agree. That’s the first time I’ve ever asked a man out.”

“You did it perfectly,” I replied, and she giggled. That sound made my heart flutter and my cock harden.

“So, what’s in the bag?” she asked. Curiosity must have gotten the better of her.

“A fuchsia pink handbag worth two thousand pounds.”

“How bloody much?” she exclaimed.

“Two grand,” I replied. Taking the tissue from the paper bag, I unwrapped the monstrosity. “It’s Dior, darling.”

“Good grief, that’s one ugly bag.” She stared, aghast. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not a present for you mum or something?”

“Lord, no. Mum would turn in her grave at the sight of such a thing. It was for Taylor, the model. She demanded it from me.”

“Oh, well, that says it all, really.”

“Doesn’t it just.” I wrapped it back up and put it back in the paper bag.

“It’ll go back on Boxing Day, unless you’d like it?” I don’t know what made me offer, but suddenly the two grand price tag seemed insignificant.

“Erm, don’t take this the wrong way, but no. That bag is vile.”

“Good decision, no offense taken,” I replied putting the bag under my chair.

Kelly sat next to me. “I’ve done all my work now. The thirty-seven was the last bus on my books.”

“So, you’ve got some time to waste then.”

“Yeah, about thirty minutes, then Charlie will take over.”

“I guess I have thirty minutes to wait until I can take you out for dinner, then.”

“Seems that way,” she replied, and a weighty silence hung between us. I felt it on my shoulders, and by the way hers slumped, I guess she did, too. We turned to face each other at exactly the same moment. Our mouths parted ready to let soothing, silence-filling words fall out. It was as if some kind of secret built-in coding kicked in as our word-laden lips came within an inch of meeting. I moved my head forward a fraction, she moved hers and then we were kissing.

Not tight-lipped and tentative, as one might assume for virtual strangers, but open and wet and plundering like comfortable lovers desperate for their daily infusion of lust.

My fingers found their way into her hair and wrapped themselves in the russet curls. Her hands ran up and down my back and pulled up my shirt to find the soft, warm flesh beneath. My mind had gone. My instincts took over, and as we kissed, I got harder. The burning ache led me to pull open her buttons as my lips slid sensually down her neck.

As soon as I’d freed enough buttons to reach through, I prised her hot flesh from the cage of her bra and moulded her soft, succulent breasts in my hands. She cooed with a sweet, needy sigh as I teased out her nipples and hardened them with every pinch of my fingers.

I was so absorbed in the silken feel of her breast and the sweet, citrus scent of her perfume that she had down the zip of my jeans and her hand inside them before I really noticed. When her fingers skimmed my length through my thin boxers, my attention was dragged directly to my crotch and the hand that stroked there. She delicately rustled around, pulled and shifted material until she found the opening. With a gentle but firm tug, my cock unfurled from its one hundred percent cotton jail and stuck out over layers of black boxer and blue denim.

She stroked up and down. The pressure of pleasure built and forced a groan of delight out from between my lips. “I have to taste you,” she whispered and dropped to her knees on the cold, hard floor. My hands eagerly sought out something to hold on to. It felt as if my body had dissolved into separate parts, all of them seemingly acting on their own without the compulsion of my brain.

Pick up the Festive Handbag to find out what happens next!