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Christmas Day. Shelly was in the driver’s seat, her bunny slipper on the pedal, steering wheel in one hand while she searched through the stations of the radio for something that wasn’t Celine Dion singing Come All Ye Faithful. While there wasn’t snow on the ground, the dirt felt like ice against my bare feet as I headed for the hot springs that Shelly had pointed out upon our arrival. I felt her hands upon my head, stroking, fingers sneaking through my hair, tensing at times, then relaxing as I began to lick her wet pussy, my tongue gliding between puffy lips.