The apartment felt unusually spacious with the holiday decorations twinkling in the dim light. Michael Anderson, twenty-two, with his sandy blonde hair tousled from the cold wind outside, dropped his keys on the counter and grinned at Courtney Danielson. She stood by the window, her chestnut hair with auburn highlights catching the glow of the streetlights, her blue-green eyes sparkling with mischief. At twenty-one and five-foot-five, she carried herself with a confident poise that always drew him in. Their families had all jetted off for Christmas, leaving the two of them with the place entirely to themselves for the first time in months.
"Finally, no interruptions," Michael said, leaning against the doorframe. "Just us and this ridiculous tree you insisted on putting up."
Courtney turned, crossing her arms with a sly smile. "Oh please, you love it. Besides, who else is going to help me test every surface in this apartment? We've got the whole week, Anderson. Don't tell me you're already tired."
He chuckled, stepping closer. "Tired? Not a chance. But I bet I can make you pant before midnight."
"Bold words from a guy who tripped over his own boots last night," she shot back, her voice laced with wit. "Come here and prove it."
The air thickened as he closed the distance, their banter melting into something hotter. Michael pulled her into a kiss, hands roaming her waist, while Courtney pressed against him, her fingers threading through his hair. She wasn't one to wait passively; she nipped at his lip and whispered, "I've been horny all day thinking about this."
Clothes started to shed in the living room. Courtney tugged off her sweater, revealing smooth skin, and Michael followed suit, his shirt hitting the floor. "Your ass looks incredible in those jeans," he murmured, gripping her hips. She laughed, pushing him onto the couch. "Flattery will get you everywhere, but let's see that cock of yours get hard first."
She knelt between his legs, unzipping him with deliberate slowness. Michael groaned as her hand wrapped around his hardening length. "Damn, Courtney, you're good at this." She smirked up at him. "I know. Now shut up and enjoy the blowjob." Her mouth enveloped him, tongue swirling, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, panting already.
They moved to the floor, bodies slick with building heat. Courtney straddled him, strong thighs flexing as she ground against his cock. "Feel how wet my pussy is?" she teased, guiding him inside without hesitation. Michael thrust up, hands on her ass, and they found a rhythm that had them both sweating. "Harder," she demanded, her blue-green eyes locked on his. He obliged, flipping her gently but letting her set the pace, her moans mixing with his grunts.
The sex built to a fever pitch on the rug, positions shifting from her on top to him behind, her dripping arousal coating them both. "I'm so close," Courtney gasped, reaching back to pull him deeper. Michael came first with a shudder, cum spilling inside her as she followed, clenching around him in waves of pleasure. They collapsed, panting and laughing, limbs entwined amid the scattered clothes.
Courtney traced a finger down his chest. "Round one down. Think we can hit the kitchen counter before breakfast?" Little did they realize this holiday freedom would weave consequences far beyond their wildest nights.
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