Synopsis: Carrie becomes a cock-hungry whore on Christmas Eve.
The snow fell in thick, lazy flurries over Leeds city centre on Christmas Eve 2025, blanketing the bustling streets in a pristine white hush that muffled the distant carols and laughter from the Christmas markets. The air was sharp with the scent of mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, and pine from the decorated trees lining Millennium Square. Carrie arrived at Banyan's Winter Garden, a enchanting heated terrace nestled in the heart of the city, looking like she'd stepped straight out of a naughty holiday postcard.
Her Santa outfit was pure temptation: a skimpy red velvet mini-dress that clung to her voluptuous figure, the low-cut bodice barely containing her full, natural C-cup tits, with the fluffy white fur trim framing her deep cleavage and drawing every eye to the soft, pale swells of her breasts. Her nipples, already hardened by the winter chill despite the glowing heaters overhead, poked insistently against the fabric. The hem of the dress skimmed dangerously high on her thighs, threatening to reveal the thick, dark bush she was famous for in her viral "Carrie Strips Naked" video—the one where she slowly peeled off her clothes, teasing her audience with glimpses of those untamed curls framing her pink slit, her small but perky tits heaving with each breath as she spread her legs wide for the camera.
Carrie was in her early 30s, a confident British MILF with a body built for sin: soft curves from a life of indulgence, wide hips that swayed seductively as she walked, and legs toned from whatever wild escapades had led her to confess that infamous 12-man gangbang on holiday in Ibiza. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves under the jaunty Santa hat, and her blue eyes sparkled with that mischievous, knowing smile, looking so innocent yet so utterly fuckable. She spotted me at our corner table, surrounded by my six mates: Jamal and Tyrone, the towering black bulls whose massive cocks had ruined more than a few women; Mark, the burly builder with a thick beard and an even thicker shaft; Dave, the lanky tech guy who loved filthy talk; Steve, the quiet one with a hidden dominant edge; and Tom, the energetic party boy always equipped with extra lube and condoms.
The Winter Garden was a festive haven: fairy lights draped over wooden pergolas like glowing vines, heated lamps casting warm amber pools across the plush benches piled with blankets, and garlands of holly and mistletoe wrapping the railings. Soft carols played from hidden speakers, blending with the chatter of holiday revelers. Carrie slid onto the bench beside me, her thigh pressing warmly against mine, the velvet of her dress whispering against my jeans. "Evening, handsome," Carrie purred, her voice a throaty invitation. "And who are these delicious friends of yours?"
I handed Carrie her first pink gin fizz, garnished with a swirling candy cane that she sucked on suggestively, her lips wrapping around the straw in a way that made my cock stir instantly. "Meet the lads, Carrie," I said, introducing each one as Carrie's eyes roamed over them appreciatively, lingering on Jamal and Tyrone's broad, muscular frames. We kept the conversation light at first—holiday traditions, Carrie's favorite gin haunts in Leeds like The Alchemist or Mojo, the way the twinkling lights reflected off the River Aire just a stone's throw away. But as the gins flowed—pink and effervescent for Carrie, strong beers and whiskeys for us—Carrie's cheeks flushed deeper, her laughter growing bolder.
Carrie leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered about her exhibitionist thrills. "You know that video of mine, 'Carrie Strips Naked'? Where I show off my hairy pussy for the world? Thousands have wanked to it, to my thick bush and nice tits." Her hand slid under the table, squeezing my thigh higher, closer to my hardening cock. Then Carrie dropped the bomb again, her voice low and husky: "But nothing beats that holiday in Ibiza, where I got fucked by 12 men. Cocks everywhere—in my mouth, pussy, and deep in my ass. Double penetrating me all night, cum dripping from every one of my holes." Carrie loved being their whore.
The mates shifted, cocks visibly straining in their pants. Jamal grinned, his deep voice rumbling: "Sounds like Carrie needs a repeat performance." Carrie's eyes lit up, her free hand brushing Tyrone's arm. "Oh, yes I do do. I want it bad tonight."
I floated the plan over another round of drinks. "What if we take you to the van out back, Carrie? Me and the six lads—hours of using every hole, using on that tight ass of yours, double-stuffing you until you're screaming." Carrie's response was immediate, her nipples hardening further against the velvet: "Fuck yes. I wants to be your Christmas slut. Lead the way."
We settled the tab and slipped out into the snowy night, the flakes clinging to Carrie's blonde hair like diamonds as we crunched through the alley behind the Calls Landing. The large white van waited in a secluded spot—no CCTV, blacked-out windows, utterly private. Inside, we'd transformed it into a festive fuck-den: seats folded flat into a wide bed of thick blankets and pillows, battery-powered string lights in red and green casting a sultry glow, bottles of lube scattered like holiday treats, and a box of extra-large condoms for safety. The heater purred, warming the space against the winter cold.
Carrie climbed in first, her Santa dress riding up to flash her bare ass and that lush bush as she crawled onto the blankets. "Come on, boys," Carrie teased, kneeling in the center as we crowded in, the door sealing with a heavy thud. "I'm ready to be unwrapped."
I started, unzipping and presenting my cock to Carrie's eager mouth. Carrie took me deep, her lips stretching around my shaft, tongue swirling as she sucked with practiced hunger. Saliva dripped from Carrie's mouth, coating me as Carrie bobbed, her blue eyes locked on mine. Tyrone wasted no time, flipping up Carrie's dress to expose her fully. Her ass was round and inviting, cheeks parting to reveal her tight pink asshole winking above the dark curls of her bush, her pussy lips already swollen and glistening. Tyrone ran his thick fingers through Carrie's bush, parting the curls to slide two digits into her wet cunt, making Carrie moan around my cock.
"Damn, Carrie's wet already," Tyrone growled, pulling out his massive black cock—ten inches of veiny, throbbing girth, the head flared like a challenge. He rubbed it through Carrie's bush, slicking it with her juices, then pressed against her entrance. With a grunt, Tyrone thrust in, burying half his length in Carrie's pussy. Carrie bucked, her tits spilling free from the dress, but she kept sucking me, her moans vibrating my shaft.
Jamal knelt beside Carrie's head, grabbing her Santa hat like a handle. "Time for Carrie to multitask." His cock matched Tyrone's—ebony perfection, pulsing with need. Jamal fed it to Carrie alongside mine, Carrie's jaw straining as she tried to take both, her tongue lapping at our heads, spit cascading down her chin onto her tits. The spit-roast ignited: Tyrone pounding Carrie's pussy from behind, his balls slapping her bush; Jamal face-fucking Carrie, her throat bulging with each deep thrust. Mark and Dave flanked Carrie, guiding her hands to their cocks—Carrie jerked them skillfully, thumbs circling their heads, pre-cum slicking her palms. Steve and Tom stroked themselves, eyes glued to Carrie's writhing body.
Carrie's body rocked with the forse, her tits swinging wildly, nipples hard and begging for attention. I reached down, pinching one of Carrie's nipples, twisting until Carrie whimpered. "You love being filled, don't you" Carrie nodded frantically, her first orgasm building. Carrie's pussy clenched around Tyrone, squirting as she came, soaking his thighs and the blankets. Tyrone pulled out, spraying his load across Carrie's ass, thick ropes landing on her cheeks and dripping into her bush.
We shifted Carrie to reverse cowgirl. I lay back, pulling Carrie on top. She straddled me, guiding my cock into her soaked pussy, her bush grinding against my groin as Carrie sank down. Jamal knelt behind her, lubing his monster cock generously. "Relax for me, Carrie," Jamal murmured, pressing the head against Carrie's asshole. Carrie breathed deep, her ring yielding to the pressure as Jamal inched in, stretching Carrie wide. Carrie cried out, a mix of burn and bliss, until Jamal was balls-deep in Carrie's ass. Now double-penetrated, Carrie ground between us, her tits bouncing, Santa dress bunched like a scarlet belt around her waist.
Dave and Steve stood over Carrie, their cocks in her face. Carrie alternated sucking them, her lips stretched, tongue swirling as she deepthroated one then the other. Mark slipped a hand between us, rubbing Carrie's clit through her matted bush, fingers delving into the wet curls. Carrie's second orgasm exploded, her body convulsing, walls milking our cocks in her pussy and ass until I flooded Carrie's pussy with cum, feeling it leak out as Carrie lifted off, only for Tom to take my place.
The anal emphasis ramped up. We positioned Carrie in doggy against the van wall: Tyrone back in action, this time targeting Carrie's ass. He lubed up, sliding into Carrie's stretched hole with ease now, pounding deep as Carrie screamed in euphoria. "Fuck my ass harder!" Carrie begged, her voice raw. Tom took Carrie's mouth, face-fucking her while Carrie braced against the paneling. Cum from earlier dripped from Carrie's pussy, pooling beneath her as Tyrone reamed her ass, his massive cock disappearing into Carrie's depths.
Next came a standing anal DP sandwich: Jamal lifted Carrie's legs, impaling her pussy while Steve entered Carrie's ass from behind. Carrie's body hung suspended between them, her tits pressed to Jamal's chest, bush grinding his base as they alternated thrusts—Jamal deep in Carrie's cunt, Steve stretching Carrie's ass wider. "Oh god, .. don't stop!" Carrie gasped, her arms around Jamal's neck. Mark and Dave jerked off onto Carrie's back, their loads splattering the velvet dress, running down to mix with the mess in Carrie's bush.
We laid Carrie prone bone on the floor for more anal intensity, face down, ass up. Dave pounded Carrie's ass now, the angle allowing him to hit deep, making Carrie squirm and moan. Her bush rubbed the blankets, adding friction to her clit as Tyrone throat-fucked Carrie from the front, his balls slapping her chin. Carrie gagged, spit bubbling, but took every inch, her ass clenching around Dave as she came again, anal orgasm rippling through her.
In lotus position: Mark sat cross-legged, Carrie facing him on his lap, his cock buried in Carrie's ass. Carrie rode slow, grinding her hips, the fullness in her backdoor making her whimper. I knelt and entered Carrie's pussy—another DP, intimate and relentless. Carrie's tits smothered Mark's face; he sucked her nipples hard, biting as Carrie bounced, double-stuffed and loving it. "Carrie's holes are so full... fuck Carrie harder!"
Hours melted into a frenzy of anal and DP. We had Carrie in a pile-driver variation: upside down on her shoulders, ass in the air, Steve and Tom alternating in her ass while Jamal DP'd with her pussy. Carrie's bush was a sticky chaos, curls plastered with cum and lube. Then a wheelbarrow: Carrie on her hands, legs held high by Tyrone and Jamal, their massive cocks taking turns in her ass and pussy simultaneously—true anal-pussy DP, Carrie's screams echoing in the van.
The finale was a bukkake circle with anal emphasis. Carrie knelt, fingering her bush as we surrounded her. But first, one last DP: Jamal in Carrie's ass, Tyrone in her pussy, pounding until they exploded inside her, creampies bubbling out. The others followed, loads on Carrie's face, tits, bush—swallowing, smearing, Carrie reveling in it.
Exhausted, Carrie collapsed, a vision of debauched beauty: blonde hair matted, blue eyes sated, body marked. "Merry Christmas, boys," Carrie whispered, licking cum from her lips. The van reeked of sex, lights flickering.
We drove through snowy Leeds, Carrie curled against me, her Santa outfit in tatters, already hinting at round two.
The snow fell in thick, lazy flurries over Leeds city centre on Christmas Eve 2025, blanketing the bustling streets in a pristine white hush that muffled the distant carols and laughter from the Christmas markets. The air was sharp with the scent of mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, and pine from the decorated trees lining Millennium Square. Carrie arrived at Banyan's Winter Garden, a enchanting heated terrace nestled in the heart of the city, looking like she'd stepped straight out of a naughty holiday postcard.
Her Santa outfit was pure temptation: a skimpy red velvet mini-dress that clung to her voluptuous figure, the low-cut bodice barely containing her full, natural C-cup tits, with the fluffy white fur trim framing her deep cleavage and drawing every eye to the soft, pale swells of her breasts. Her nipples, already hardened by the winter chill despite the glowing heaters overhead, poked insistently against the fabric. The hem of the dress skimmed dangerously high on her thighs, threatening to reveal the thick, dark bush she was famous for in her viral "Carrie Strips Naked" video—the one where she slowly peeled off her clothes, teasing her audience with glimpses of those untamed curls framing her pink slit, her small but perky tits heaving with each breath as she spread her legs wide for the camera.
Carrie was in her early 30s, a confident British MILF with a body built for sin: soft curves from a life of indulgence, wide hips that swayed seductively as she walked, and legs toned from whatever wild escapades had led her to confess that infamous 12-man gangbang on holiday in Ibiza. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves under the jaunty Santa hat, and her blue eyes sparkled with that mischievous, knowing smile, looking so innocent yet so utterly fuckable. She spotted me at our corner table, surrounded by my six mates: Jamal and Tyrone, the towering black bulls whose massive cocks had ruined more than a few women; Mark, the burly builder with a thick beard and an even thicker shaft; Dave, the lanky tech guy who loved filthy talk; Steve, the quiet one with a hidden dominant edge; and Tom, the energetic party boy always equipped with extra lube and condoms.
The Winter Garden was a festive haven: fairy lights draped over wooden pergolas like glowing vines, heated lamps casting warm amber pools across the plush benches piled with blankets, and garlands of holly and mistletoe wrapping the railings. Soft carols played from hidden speakers, blending with the chatter of holiday revelers. Carrie slid onto the bench beside me, her thigh pressing warmly against mine, the velvet of her dress whispering against my jeans. "Evening, handsome," Carrie purred, her voice a throaty invitation. "And who are these delicious friends of yours?"
I handed Carrie her first pink gin fizz, garnished with a swirling candy cane that she sucked on suggestively, her lips wrapping around the straw in a way that made my cock stir instantly. "Meet the lads, Carrie," I said, introducing each one as Carrie's eyes roamed over them appreciatively, lingering on Jamal and Tyrone's broad, muscular frames. We kept the conversation light at first—holiday traditions, Carrie's favorite gin haunts in Leeds like The Alchemist or Mojo, the way the twinkling lights reflected off the River Aire just a stone's throw away. But as the gins flowed—pink and effervescent for Carrie, strong beers and whiskeys for us—Carrie's cheeks flushed deeper, her laughter growing bolder.
Carrie leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered about her exhibitionist thrills. "You know that video of mine, 'Carrie Strips Naked'? Where I show off my hairy pussy for the world? Thousands have wanked to it, to my thick bush and nice tits." Her hand slid under the table, squeezing my thigh higher, closer to my hardening cock. Then Carrie dropped the bomb again, her voice low and husky: "But nothing beats that holiday in Ibiza, where I got fucked by 12 men. Cocks everywhere—in my mouth, pussy, and deep in my ass. Double penetrating me all night, cum dripping from every one of my holes." Carrie loved being their whore.
The mates shifted, cocks visibly straining in their pants. Jamal grinned, his deep voice rumbling: "Sounds like Carrie needs a repeat performance." Carrie's eyes lit up, her free hand brushing Tyrone's arm. "Oh, yes I do do. I want it bad tonight."
I floated the plan over another round of drinks. "What if we take you to the van out back, Carrie? Me and the six lads—hours of using every hole, using on that tight ass of yours, double-stuffing you until you're screaming." Carrie's response was immediate, her nipples hardening further against the velvet: "Fuck yes. I wants to be your Christmas slut. Lead the way."
We settled the tab and slipped out into the snowy night, the flakes clinging to Carrie's blonde hair like diamonds as we crunched through the alley behind the Calls Landing. The large white van waited in a secluded spot—no CCTV, blacked-out windows, utterly private. Inside, we'd transformed it into a festive fuck-den: seats folded flat into a wide bed of thick blankets and pillows, battery-powered string lights in red and green casting a sultry glow, bottles of lube scattered like holiday treats, and a box of extra-large condoms for safety. The heater purred, warming the space against the winter cold.
Carrie climbed in first, her Santa dress riding up to flash her bare ass and that lush bush as she crawled onto the blankets. "Come on, boys," Carrie teased, kneeling in the center as we crowded in, the door sealing with a heavy thud. "I'm ready to be unwrapped."
I started, unzipping and presenting my cock to Carrie's eager mouth. Carrie took me deep, her lips stretching around my shaft, tongue swirling as she sucked with practiced hunger. Saliva dripped from Carrie's mouth, coating me as Carrie bobbed, her blue eyes locked on mine. Tyrone wasted no time, flipping up Carrie's dress to expose her fully. Her ass was round and inviting, cheeks parting to reveal her tight pink asshole winking above the dark curls of her bush, her pussy lips already swollen and glistening. Tyrone ran his thick fingers through Carrie's bush, parting the curls to slide two digits into her wet cunt, making Carrie moan around my cock.
"Damn, Carrie's wet already," Tyrone growled, pulling out his massive black cock—ten inches of veiny, throbbing girth, the head flared like a challenge. He rubbed it through Carrie's bush, slicking it with her juices, then pressed against her entrance. With a grunt, Tyrone thrust in, burying half his length in Carrie's pussy. Carrie bucked, her tits spilling free from the dress, but she kept sucking me, her moans vibrating my shaft.
Jamal knelt beside Carrie's head, grabbing her Santa hat like a handle. "Time for Carrie to multitask." His cock matched Tyrone's—ebony perfection, pulsing with need. Jamal fed it to Carrie alongside mine, Carrie's jaw straining as she tried to take both, her tongue lapping at our heads, spit cascading down her chin onto her tits. The spit-roast ignited: Tyrone pounding Carrie's pussy from behind, his balls slapping her bush; Jamal face-fucking Carrie, her throat bulging with each deep thrust. Mark and Dave flanked Carrie, guiding her hands to their cocks—Carrie jerked them skillfully, thumbs circling their heads, pre-cum slicking her palms. Steve and Tom stroked themselves, eyes glued to Carrie's writhing body.
Carrie's body rocked with the forse, her tits swinging wildly, nipples hard and begging for attention. I reached down, pinching one of Carrie's nipples, twisting until Carrie whimpered. "You love being filled, don't you" Carrie nodded frantically, her first orgasm building. Carrie's pussy clenched around Tyrone, squirting as she came, soaking his thighs and the blankets. Tyrone pulled out, spraying his load across Carrie's ass, thick ropes landing on her cheeks and dripping into her bush.
We shifted Carrie to reverse cowgirl. I lay back, pulling Carrie on top. She straddled me, guiding my cock into her soaked pussy, her bush grinding against my groin as Carrie sank down. Jamal knelt behind her, lubing his monster cock generously. "Relax for me, Carrie," Jamal murmured, pressing the head against Carrie's asshole. Carrie breathed deep, her ring yielding to the pressure as Jamal inched in, stretching Carrie wide. Carrie cried out, a mix of burn and bliss, until Jamal was balls-deep in Carrie's ass. Now double-penetrated, Carrie ground between us, her tits bouncing, Santa dress bunched like a scarlet belt around her waist.
Dave and Steve stood over Carrie, their cocks in her face. Carrie alternated sucking them, her lips stretched, tongue swirling as she deepthroated one then the other. Mark slipped a hand between us, rubbing Carrie's clit through her matted bush, fingers delving into the wet curls. Carrie's second orgasm exploded, her body convulsing, walls milking our cocks in her pussy and ass until I flooded Carrie's pussy with cum, feeling it leak out as Carrie lifted off, only for Tom to take my place.
The anal emphasis ramped up. We positioned Carrie in doggy against the van wall: Tyrone back in action, this time targeting Carrie's ass. He lubed up, sliding into Carrie's stretched hole with ease now, pounding deep as Carrie screamed in euphoria. "Fuck my ass harder!" Carrie begged, her voice raw. Tom took Carrie's mouth, face-fucking her while Carrie braced against the paneling. Cum from earlier dripped from Carrie's pussy, pooling beneath her as Tyrone reamed her ass, his massive cock disappearing into Carrie's depths.
Next came a standing anal DP sandwich: Jamal lifted Carrie's legs, impaling her pussy while Steve entered Carrie's ass from behind. Carrie's body hung suspended between them, her tits pressed to Jamal's chest, bush grinding his base as they alternated thrusts—Jamal deep in Carrie's cunt, Steve stretching Carrie's ass wider. "Oh god, .. don't stop!" Carrie gasped, her arms around Jamal's neck. Mark and Dave jerked off onto Carrie's back, their loads splattering the velvet dress, running down to mix with the mess in Carrie's bush.
We laid Carrie prone bone on the floor for more anal intensity, face down, ass up. Dave pounded Carrie's ass now, the angle allowing him to hit deep, making Carrie squirm and moan. Her bush rubbed the blankets, adding friction to her clit as Tyrone throat-fucked Carrie from the front, his balls slapping her chin. Carrie gagged, spit bubbling, but took every inch, her ass clenching around Dave as she came again, anal orgasm rippling through her.
In lotus position: Mark sat cross-legged, Carrie facing him on his lap, his cock buried in Carrie's ass. Carrie rode slow, grinding her hips, the fullness in her backdoor making her whimper. I knelt and entered Carrie's pussy—another DP, intimate and relentless. Carrie's tits smothered Mark's face; he sucked her nipples hard, biting as Carrie bounced, double-stuffed and loving it. "Carrie's holes are so full... fuck Carrie harder!"
Hours melted into a frenzy of anal and DP. We had Carrie in a pile-driver variation: upside down on her shoulders, ass in the air, Steve and Tom alternating in her ass while Jamal DP'd with her pussy. Carrie's bush was a sticky chaos, curls plastered with cum and lube. Then a wheelbarrow: Carrie on her hands, legs held high by Tyrone and Jamal, their massive cocks taking turns in her ass and pussy simultaneously—true anal-pussy DP, Carrie's screams echoing in the van.
The finale was a bukkake circle with anal emphasis. Carrie knelt, fingering her bush as we surrounded her. But first, one last DP: Jamal in Carrie's ass, Tyrone in her pussy, pounding until they exploded inside her, creampies bubbling out. The others followed, loads on Carrie's face, tits, bush—swallowing, smearing, Carrie reveling in it.
Exhausted, Carrie collapsed, a vision of debauched beauty: blonde hair matted, blue eyes sated, body marked. "Merry Christmas, boys," Carrie whispered, licking cum from her lips. The van reeked of sex, lights flickering.
We drove through snowy Leeds, Carrie curled against me, her Santa outfit in tatters, already hinting at round two.
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