Happy Holidays Part II

masturbation-monday-badge-small18 + Readers Only! I am offering PART TWO of my new Holiday Erotica Book, Flesh, Wine & Pine logs. This is a very special HOLIDAY  OFFERING for the Masturbation Monday Challenge from Kayla LordsThe idea is to share a bit of hot and sassy smut that makes one tend towards self-love. I sincerely hope this does the trick for you! Click on the banner to visit Kayla’s great site to read all the free stories there.  

Flesh, Wine & Pine logs – A Holiday Menage has lots of sex in it, mostly straight, but kinda bi, and it ends with a rollicking Midwinter foursome. It will warm your cockles on a icy night and make you feel merry, indeed! Consider it Tracey DeSanto’s Holiday present to you all!

You can skip back and read part one here first, if you like…

Without further ado… Yuletide Smut!


The moon had crawled across the night sky and was nestling in the tree-line. Where before it had shone brightly, its light was now filtered. The snow crunched beneath their feet. It was a lonely sound, accompanied by their breathing. Wensa’s was easy and measured,  like her strides, but Honzo puffed and grunted as he followed her, occasionally muttering a mild oath.

They had left quietly with only the wheelwrights and carpenters to observe them. Wensa had gifted the men with silver, beer and pies, requiring their silence. They were only too happy to offer it. They helped the Queen and her page into rough boots and cloaks for their journey. Honzo had insisted that he could bear the sacks of wine, food and firewood. It was no wonder he was finding it slow going.

When they began hiking, all had been raucous and merry in the shops and households of Bohemia. Honzo was  wistful as they made their way farther from the revelry and deeper into the empty edges of Wensa’s domain. They had reached the end of the farthest road at the outermost village. Wensa paused to think and let Honzo catch up.

“My gracious Queen… <huff> I am delighted that we have <huff> finally achieved your aim of freezing the balls off this particular brass monkey.” Honzo’s teeth chattered while he said it. He shook his legs as if expecting to see his testicles roll out of the cuffs of his breeches. “Might I suggest that we avail ourselves of some of these supplies?” He peered at her from under the brim of his cloak, hopeful.

She laughed and clapped her hands together. It had been a while since she had ventured out to her childhood realms, and it felt good.

“Those provisions are barter for beets and must not be touched. I wonder at your fuss. Next time I will enlist the help of one of the scullery maids. They are made of sterner stuff than you and are more willing to take chances.”

His retort was mischievous. “I know this, my Queen, for I have bedded every one of them already… and at least we were in a nice… warm… BED!”

His nose was running and his breath came in puffs. Honzo stumbled as the sacks shifted on his shoulders. This caused him to slip and fall on his ass with a painful whump. He lay on his back and gazed up into the night sky.

“Take me now, Lord,” he said. “I am ready.” He closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest. “If Good Queen Wensa demands I end my life dragging firewood to the Devil, I am only too happy to do so.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Her voice was like an embrace: comforting and encouraging. He opened one eye to peer up at her.

“Goodbye cruel world?” he asked.

“Not tonight, my little scallion.” She offered him a firm hand, pulling him to his feet. Once it looked as if he wouldn’t fall again, she squatted and took the heavier of the sacks.

“Mark my footsteps, my good page,” she said, and began to blaze a trail through the snow. Honzo followed as best he could, with an energy he could hardly muster. He found the frost was less cruel if he followed in her tracks.

They fell silent and made their way. Wensa knew it was still a long march before they reached Filip’s shack. She didn’t care. She felt magnificent. At Midwinter the Sun begins its slow return. It was in Wensa’s blood to shepherd her people towards the renewal of light at this time. She shared her warmth with everyone and brought them cheer. Wensa at Midwinter meant hope and comfort against the bitter dark.

She was also as horny as a wench at closing time. She felt certain she could do her beet boy an injury, given the chance. Her appetite was fierce. Along those lines, she wondered if this might be the night she let that slender page into her winter garden. He was so devoted… it wouldn’t be fair to leave him out in the cold. That’s when she realized she no longer heard him stumbling in her wake. It made her stomach lurch.

Looking back across the icy plain, she could see him, a lump of darkness against the white. He had fallen some distance behind her and was not moving. She dropped her sack and ran, cursing herself for enjoying this night. When she came to him he was silent and shivering, curled up in the trench she had left. His normally bright eyes were lidded, barely open.

“Hail, good page,” she encouraged, “Have you abandoned your duties?” Her cheerfulness veiled concern. There was no reply.

“Honzo. Answer your Queen.”

His blue lips twitched. In a muted, distant voice he whispered, “I will follow my Queen to the end of the Earth, I love her so… but first I must sleep…”. He trailed off, closed his eyes, and became still. The shivering ended.

The Midwinter Queen, daughter of the forest, could tell when death came sniffing. She would not let the Reaper take her page without a fight. Wensa had seen this cold sickness before. She knew what to do. Sleep would kill Honzo. With no time to seek fire or shelter she needed to save him with her body.

Wensa took off her cloak and put it aside, then knelt by Honzo. She pulled his legs straight and yanked his breeches to his ankles. His manhood was hibernating, and this was not surprising. Even in a frozen state, he showed potential. The Queen unbuttoned his tunic and exposed his bare chest to the freezing black sky. She lingered only a moment to appreciate his long lines and lithe muscles, dusted with only the faintest of blond hair. She regretted there was no time for more than a glance.

She stripped her clothes off with little thought. The wind blew across her ample curves, but bothered her not. Her nipples rose to greet the frosty air, and her ass was so hot that even the coldest breeze knew better than to try to cool it. She was Wensa, Queen of Midwinter. Knowing warmth was her strength, she lay on top on Honzo and pulled her thick cloak over them both, wrapping them as closely as she could. She rubbed her nude and elemental body against him, skin to skin, and whispered in his ear.

“Do you feel that, Honzo? You Queen has come for you.”

She clutched him to her bosom. His chest was frigid and unyielding. Honzo was unresponsive. Her tits blazed warm against him; her nibs were like quills on parchment, writing a fascinating tale, if only someone could read it. She cupped his chin and kissed him tenderly with soft, wet lips. His were icy, but they twitched in response.

“Good… Take from me, my fine man. I will share my heat with you.” Wensa crawled up and wrapped her legs around his stomach. Cradling his head against her breast, she offered her nipple to suck. It began gradually. Honzo, eyes shut, rigid as a brick, began to suckle at the teat of his Queen.

For her part, it was blazing pleasure. She felt milk come down, unbidden, like primal magic. Honzo licked and sucked, swallowing her earthy heat. His eyes fluttered. Wensa’s twat was hot and eager against the young man’s belly. Her sweet wetness anointed him. She felt him, gradually, nearly imperceptibly, warm to her. She offered her other breast, now supernaturally heavy with milk. Honzo moaned as he slaked his need.

Partly because of curiosity, and mostly due to her screaming arousal, Wensa reached down to inspect Honzo’s cock. It would be a good bellwether to his recovery. She gripped his cool, flaccid flesh. It became warm in her hand, stiffening in sympathy to his heartbeat. Soon she held it full-blown. Honzo opened his eyes.

“Uhn. My Queen… Am I dead and in heaven? However did I end up here, considering my many sins?” His eyes opened wider. “Is that your hand on my truncheon?”

Wensa kissed him to stop the nattering while she slid along his body. In one smooth moment she guided his cock into her inviting chamber. If she had been warming him up before, the fiery kiln of her cunt almost burned. They kissed and copulated under the quilt, a knot of hot fuckery, concealed from the cruel frost around them.

Honzo brought his significant skills to the service of his queen, feeling much… much better under the current circumstances. He reached a hand between them, seeking her clit in the slick inferno. Her bud was there, waiting and eager, bumping his fingertips. He played her jewel like the strings of a lute as she pushed on and off of him. Honzo used his other hand to grasp the generous flesh of her bottom and guide her onto his now-desperate cock.

Wensa hummed an old song as she rode him. She felt him continue to grow inside her. He was no longer cold at all. With each thrust upwards he shared his own warmth. She nibbled on his jaw and instructed him.

“Yes boy, just like that. Serve me well.” He rubbed her clit and gripped her ass. His thrusts made her bounce almost off him before she slid down and took him. Wensa moaned, so he did it again. This time he tweaked her twice before she bounced.

“Oh, my Queen… please take your pleasure on my humble cock,” he whispered (but now without delirium). “I am here to serve you, but I fear I will too soon expire inside your sweet furnace.” She could sense his penis flex and quiver. They were so close…

Wensa sat up abruptly and threw off the cloak. She straddled him tall in the bleak landscape, impaling herself on his stalwart dick. Her cunt slapped against his lean hips. She gyrated while he rubbed her with this tricky fingers. They chased delight together, like a swirl of snowflakes in a gust of wind, until they came together against the Midwinter snow.

Honzo arched his back and pushed up, laughing and ecstatic. He gasped as his balls drained into his Queen and was filled with joy as he filled her. Wensa shouted a proclamation for the universe to pay heed and see how a Monarch climaxes. She ground against her servant, clutching her own ripe breasts and tweaking her nipples, then threw her head back and opened her throat to the sky. In cataclysmic fashion Wensa roared at the old gods while her cunt grasped Honzo, taking every drop from him.

They melted the surrounding snow. Honzo was no longer chilled in the least.

The moon had journeyed deep below the horizon; the night was darker. Wind blew dry snowflakes across the plain, making a gentle hiss. It was a nearly silent night. The Queen and her page held hands and regarded each other, smiling in this frozen otherworldly place. They said nothing, gathered themselves, and resumed their journey.


To read the rest of Flesh, Wine & Pine logs, click here.

Happy Holidays for #MM (Part I)

masturbation-monday-badge-small18 + Readers Only! This is my very special HOLIDAY  OFFERING for the Masturbation Monday Challenge from Kayla Lords! I am offering the first section of my new book, Flesh, Wine & Pine logs. The idea is to share a bit of hot and sassy smut that makes one tend towards self-love. I sincerely hope this does the trick for you! Click on the banner to visit Kayla’s great site to read all the free stories there.  

Flesh, Wine & Pine logs – A Holiday Menage has lots of sex in it, mostly straight, but kinda bi, and the last part is a rollicking Midwinter foursome. It will warm your cockles on a icy night and make you feel merry, indeed! Consider it Tracey DeSanto’s Holiday present to you all!

Without further ado… Yuletide Smut!


She walked the length of her bed-chamber, overheated. The dark stone walls reflected orange from the crackling fire in the hearth. Midwinter was nigh, and the Queen of Bohemia was cozy. Wensa wore only her woolen cloak, trimmed with ermine. She luxuriated in the sensation of it against her naked skin. Her drinking horn brimmed with hot wine, which she drank contentedly. The days were short now and feasting for St. Stephen’s Day was upon the Kingdom. All kept the season as best they could, and Bohemians were well able to make merry. Still…  some of her subjects, she knew, got along with less…

Wensa walked to the casement and swung the shutter open.  An icy breeze kissed her cheeks, but the festive flames warmed her bottom from behind, even through the robe. She exhaled a boozy plume of vapour into the winter air and surveyed her domain.  

A fat moon shone brightly. Lack of clouds made the night deadly cold, but the countryside glowed a magical blue from the moonlight on the snow. Past the castle walls, out beyond the village and across the farmlands, smoke rose from the chimneys of the revellers. Candlelight flickered in windows. In the distance she heard bagpipes, fiddles and laughter. Wensa smiled. There would be many cocks in cunts tonight. 

Her rickety old husband, King Wenceslas I, was off in the Holy Lands on a pilgrimage. That was fine by Wensa. There had been no steel in his sword for years. She shifted her hips and noticed the lonely sensation between her legs. 

The Queen cast her gaze farther, to the very edge of the cleared lands. Her eyes were sharp; she made out a lone man near the forest. He was gathering deadfall from the trees, which meant that firewood was in short supply. She knew him on sight. That  could only be Filip, the beet boy, who was no longer a boy. They had once been childhood friends (and so much more.) 

Wensa shivered, not from the weather, but from the warm memory of their times together at the edge of Bohemia. They had shared a common love of field, forest, and fucking, pleasing one another as was absolutely appropriate for those in their youth. Filip was not over-tall, but wide of shoulder and strong as an ox. Wensa was superb: pale and quick, curvaceous and kind. Her grandfather had been Druid to the Green Man, so she was royalty, of a sort, to the rustics. At the age of nineteen she was summoned  to become a young Queen for the old King in the castle, and one does not refuse that summons. She left her country life, and her beet boy, and became Royal.

Wensa chewed her lip. The lonely sensation twixt her thighs had fanned to hot flame as she recalled Filip’s sparking eyes and sinewy legs. She allowed the front of her robe to fall open. Winter breezes danced across her skin, lifting her broad nipples and fluttering her flaxen muff. She dragged her fingers through the fine hair at her cleft. She was as slippery as a trout in a spring stream. Finishing her wine in one long draught, she tossed the horn aside.

With a sensuous roll of her shoulders Wensa discarded her robe and let it fall.  She stood nude, illuminated by the Midwinter moon. Her alert eyes picked out Filip in the distance, gathering winter fuel. As she watched him, she explored her wetness, slipping her fingers along her slit, and then into herself. In her mind she was back in the forest, fifteen winters ago, laying with him. They had been clumsy and inexperienced, but eager and potent. 

She pulled on her nipples, remembering her rough and rutty treatment at the hands of her beet boy, years ago. Pleasure flashed from her breasts to her cunt, and back. Wensa’s skin bloomed from white to pink as she fingered herself with one hand and grabbed at her breasts with the other. She  had not been fucked properly in too long a  time. 

Fluffy snowflakes drifted into the room and landed on her, melting as they touched. She savoured their cool kiss on her body.  As she pleasured herself, her eyes never left the solitary figure in the distance. She reached wildly for her climax. Her blood rose. She said, “Oh Filip. Fuck me. Fuck the girl of the forest…” 

Her hand sought her bud. It was peeking up like a badger in a burrow, so she seized upon the opportunity to rub it hard. Her legs trembled and her flesh rippled in the moonlight. Closing her eyes, she envisioned Filip pounding into her. She remembered the musky smell of his sweat and, after a pleasant span of time spent masturbating, she came. Shaking her head and arching her back, she groaned her delight into the icy sky. Wind blew gusts of snow against her trembling nakedness but, for her own part, she felt only warmth emanating from her every fibre. 

Midwinter is magical, and a Queen needs tending. Searching out the window, she saw that the figure in the distance was gone. Wensa was decisive. A plan was hatched. She grabbed her cloak and summoned her servant.

“Honzo,” she called. Her page was always near, often loafing  on his pallet outside the bedchamber. She heard the heavy oaken door squeak on its hinges as it opened behind her.

“My Queen?” came a voice that was baritone and bright.

“Come in and close the door. We have provisions to gather.” She wrapped the lush garment around her loveliness and turned to face the young man. 

“Provisions?” Honzo smiled at her with wide lips. He was bemused, which was often the case. This one had more wit than muscle. He would be a courtier, she decided… not a knight. He was tall and slender, thoughtful and, at times, scandalously familiar with her. She adored him. Wensa noticed he was eyeing the top of a wayward, rose-tint nipple, which peeked above the rim of her cloak. 

She concealed her nip with a knowing smile and said, “Bring me flesh… and bring me wine.” She glanced out the casement into the frozen landscape. “Bring me pine logs.”

The younger man was taken aback. “Where shall I bring this, my Queen?”

“Hither,” she answered, then reconsidered. “No, Honzo. Not hither. Bring it to the East Gate and be secret about it.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever is all this for, my Queen?”

“We are going on a Midwinter adventure. I am craving beets.”


You can read Part II here.

To get all of Flesh, Wine & Pine logs, click here.