I am standing gazing at an array of fuchsia, silver and gold ornaments, and iridescent fairy lights, which glisten whimsically on a gigantic evergreen Christmas tree. I am in the middle of Central Park, New York. It is dusk on Christmas Eve, and I have just scurried out of Macy’s, where I had gone for some last minute shopping. Hurriedly, I had donned my long black cotton dress, white fishnet stockings (without panties), and white high-heeled fur booties. The sound of a soulful, raspy male voice fills the air, and I can’t help myself but venture towards it. His voice - so smooth - reminds me of velvet. A ruddy-faced, tall, slim, 30ish male is sitting on a stool belting out “Baby I Love Your Way’ by Frampton, and strumming his acoustic guitar so masterfully. I move closer to get a better look, and his sizzling chestnut bedroom eyes meet mine. My hands tremble and quiver, and I am transfixed. He is intense and mysterious, and I am instantly drawn to him like a magnet to steel. I stand for awhile discretely savoring his chill essence, and then I drop a bill into his guitar case and quickly saunter off back to the picturesque evergreen tree. I stand admiring the tree’s fetching crimson poinsettias, and make a wish as I drop a penny into the surrounding water fountain. I hear a voice beside me, “I believe this belongs to you.” I turn to see where this voice is emanating from – and realize that It Is Him – The Minstrel Stud! It seems my bracelet had apparently dropped into his guitar case. He moves closer and chivalrously fastens it back onto my wrist. I thank him, and say, “It is so lovely this time of the year isn’t it?” kicking myself for not being able to think of anything wittier. “Yes, it is lovely indeed, as are you,” he replies. He smiles at me flirtatiously, and for a moment all I can think of is what he would look like in the buff, and feel like inside any part of me. “I’m Blake. There is a lovely trail just over yonder in Central Park. Would you like to go for a walk with me and share some of my vodka punch?” he asks. My eyes glide over his exquisite full lips, and I am entranced - lost in a daze. I hesitate for a moment, but I nevertheless finally reply, “Sure, why not?” We begin our trek down the serene trail of breathtaking Edenwood Lane, and are flying high whilst engaging in joyous, lighthearted banter. Snow flurries trickle through the hushed silence gracefully, and perch on the tip of my nose, before dissipating into the ethers. Victorian antique street lanterns light the way, and white crisps of snow weaved onto the tree branches, sway in the wind enchantingly. Elated, I take a closer look at Blake. He sports a black weatherworn bomber’s jacket, tapered faded blue jeans, and a crimson scarf is thrown haphazardly round his neck. His neatly trimmed mocha facial hairs frame his handsome face like a lion’s mane. He takes my hand in his and offers me a swig of his vodka punch from his thermos. We have arrived at a sculpted snowbank surrounded by trees. He turns to me and pulls my head closer and lustfully darts his heated tongue down my throat. I return the kiss jubilantly, smearing my red lipstick across his lips in the process. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and vodka punch. He is irresistible, seriously hot, rugged and charismatic. I stroke my hand over the elongated erection that has formed across his crotch, and unzip his blue jeans. He emits a loud, deep grunt, and tosses his head back. I maneuver my hands up and down his thick, hard cock, concentrating on the rim of his swollen mushroom head. He pushes me back firmly and jacks up my dress. I spread my legs wide. He rips a hole through the crotch of my white fishnets, exposing my pretty, delicate pussy folds. He darts his head under my dress, and takes a long sniff of my moist pussy. Loose, cold splashes of snow cover my ass, legs and thighs and excite me as I writhe on his face. His strong, masculine hands hold my legs wide as he devours me even deeper, and more vigorously. Blake strums my clit as he would a string on his guitar, and, completely aroused, I rake my long, scarlet nails across the surface of the snowbank. Needily, I push his head further down on my pussy, smothering him, and gush a big squirt into his mouth. Blake voraciously licks and slurps up my juices as they dribble down his face and neck. He fingers my soaking wet pussy, and I drench his fingers some more. He turns me over and jacks up my pale, flushed ass in the air. He licks, spanks, squeezes and fingers my plump, fishnet-covered ass, teasing the entrance of it with his engorged dick. He, stiff and ready, rams his cock into me and cuffs his hand around my neck commandingly. Blake pulls my hair roughly, as he continues to ass fuck me mercilessly. Ahhhhh, I Am Cumming! My ass stretches around his cock, my juices drip down and coat his cock, and we cum in unison, as our loud rambunctious orgasms explode in sync, and our ecstatic moans echo across the trail. A myriad of fireflies encircle us overhead, he kisses my cheek affectionately, and turns to me with a sexy grin. "Cheers, Merry Christmas sexy!" Blake exclaims.