All I Want For Christmas Is To Eat Out My Christmas Tree

Amy is on the hunt for the perfect Christmas tree, but after visiting every lot in Billings, she’s begging to worry that the perfect Christmas tree doesn’t actually exist.

In a moment of inspiration, Amy attempts to get to the heart of the season by traipsing into the snow covered hillside and finding the perfect tree for herself, but what she discovers is so much more.

Now Amy and her sentient lesbian Christmas tree, Noona, are cultivating a little Christmas spirit with a hardcore lesson in holiday lovemaking that is sure to jingle your bell!

This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling human on Christmas tree action and hardcore lesbian holiday love.

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS TO EAT OUT MY CHRISTMAS TREE

By Chuck Tingle

The trees around me are beautiful and lush, filling my nose with the sweet scent of pine and immediately flooding my mind with memories of the season. The moment is almost perfect, but not quite, because these particular trees don’t create the forest you might expect. In fact, I’m far, far from the woods right now, standing at the dead center of my local grocery store parking lot as I patron a freshly opened Christmas Tree dealer.

Around me, a slew of other holiday shoppers mill about, taking their time to scope out the selection and happily making their choices.

I wish I could be so lucky, able to accept one of these trees as my own, but so far that spark of attachment and excitement simply refuses to come.

“What about this one?” my friend, Glorn offers, motioning toward a large, healthy noble fir that stands to our left. “It’s hearty.”

I turn my attention to Glorn’s selection, taking it in from top to bottom with a slow, deliberate gaze. Honestly, I can tell within two seconds this isn’t the tree I’m looking for, but I take my time for the sake of my friend. I don’t wanna turn down his suggestion too quickly and kill the holiday mood.

“Yeah, looks pretty good,” I offer as convincingly as possible. “Not sure about the branches around the back side, though.”

Glorn furrows his brow a bit, making his way around the large green fir and struggling to see the imperfections I’ve brought to light.

“Which branches?” he questions.

“Right there,” I reply, pointing at a collection of the wooden limbs that stick out at a rather unusual angle, at least as far as I can tell.

Glorn just stares at the spot I’m pointing to, his mind racing, then he finally offers a shrug in response. “I don’t see it,” he admits, “but hey, it’s your tree.”

The two of us continue onward through this makeshift forest, creeping into the greenery and slipping deeper and deeper into the unknown depths. I keep thinking the perfect tree lurks just around the corner, but moments later I emerge to find myself face to face with a chain link fence. Beyond is the grocery store, a far cry from the Christmas atmosphere behind me.

I’ve reached the end of the line, the final row of trees and the last of my options when it comes to finding the perfect addition to my living room this winter.

“You wanna head back through and take another look?” Glorn questions, appearing behind me.

I shake my head, frustrated. “These trees just aren’t gonna work,” I admit. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I mean… you could just get a tree with a few weird branches,” my friend offers.

“Not this year,” I reply firmly. “I promised myself this was going to be the best Christmas ever, and I don’t have any plans on turning back now. I need to find the perfect Christmas tree, even if that means going to every lot in town.”

With that, I turn around and begin to make my way back to the car, exiting the pop-up forest and finding myself back in the wide open parking lot. Glorn is hurrying behind me, along for the journey but clearly not convinced of the mission at hand.

“Wait!” he calls out just moments before reaching the vehicle.

I turn around to face Glorn, recognizing the pain in his expression. He’s got something to say, and he doesn’t quite know how to say it.

“Out with it,” I sigh.

“It’s just… you always do this,” he finally states with reluctant bluntness.

“Always do this?” I reply, genuinely confused. “Christmas only comes once a year.”

“It’s not just Christmas, Amy,” Glorn counters. “You’re always looking for the perfect afternoon, the perfectnight out, the perfect date. Now it’s the perfect Christmas tree.”

“So, I like good things,” I reply

“Not good things, perfect things,” Glorn continues. “You don’t seem to realize that the perfect Christmas tree doesn’t exist.”

He may have a point about my attitude, and this is something I’ve been trying to work on for a while. I’m about to apologize when suddenly an unexpected sight catches my eye over Glorn’s shoulder. I’m gazing past him now, my eyes transfixed on an absolutely beautiful tree that sits right next to the automatic doors of the grocery store.

Glorn notices that my attention has been nabbed, turning to follow my gaze. Before he has a chance to say anything, however, I’m taking off toward this glorious holiday sight.

I continue across the parking lot and eventually arrive before the beautiful green vision, taking careful note of the tree’s perfect proportions. I circle the fir slowly, struggling to accept this majestic plant as a part of my reality. It’s astonishing how precisely every branch has been laid out, the spacing gloriously even and deeply pleasing to look at.

“Whoa,” is all I can think to say, the word falling limply from my mouth.

Glorn eventually catches up to me, watching the scene as it unfolds.

“Can you believe this?” I question. “It’s the perfect tree.”

My friend nods along excitedly, but I know him well enough to see through the act. I can tell there’s still something on his mind, a truth that simply can’t be denied.

“What?” I blurt.

“Nothing,” Glorn assures me. “Let’s get this one.”

Now I know something’s up, and although my eyes are proudly accepting a glorious Christmas miracle in the form of this large fraser fir, I’m suddenly beginning to doubt myself.

“You should just tell me now,” I continue. “If I get this thing back to my apartment and something’s wrong then I’m just gonna return it. If you tell me now then you’re saving us a lot of trouble.”

Glorn sighs. “You know that tree is fake, right?” he finally questions.

I glance back and forth between my friend and the tree, then lean in close to get a good whiff of its fresh piney scent. Immediately, I stop in my tracks, realizing now that this familiar scent is completely absent. This tree is fake.

“God damn it!” I cry out, much louder than Glorn was expecting and causing him to jump back a bit. “Doesn’t anyone have a perfectly proportioned, healthy, locally-sourced tree with the right amount of branches and a reasonable height that isn’t fake and doesn’t require too much water and maintains a hearty amount of pine needles over the course of the season?”

I realize now that the shoppers milling about nearby have all stopped, staring at me with a deep concern.

“Sorry about that,” I blurt.

I take a moment to collect myself, then turn my attention back to Glorn.

“We should get going,” I offer.

My friend hesitates before shifting gears. “Actually, I just remembered I have a big meeting at work tomorrow morning. I should probably head home.”

“Oh,” I stammer. “Do you want me to drop you off? It’s cold.”

“I’m all good,” Glorn continues, putting on his best face. “I’ll just walk home, my place is close.”

I nod awkwardly then hug my friend goodbye, watching as he heads off and leaves me behind. With nothing left to do, I walk back to my car and climb in, still determined to find the perfect Christmas tree but now coming face to face with the cost of my quest.

As I sit here in the parking lot, a take a minute to check in with myself, slowly relaxing my grip on the steering wheel. I’d been clutching it tighter than expected, my anxiety manifesting in unexpected ways that I wasn’t even aware of.

Is finding the perfect tree really this important? Hell, is finding the perfect anything really this important?

After weighing my options, I finally arrive at my decision: yes, it totally is.

I start the car and begin my quest, crisscrossing back and forth from one side of Billings to the other. I visit every tree lot in town, taking my time to go through their various holiday offerings. I look at tall trees, small trees, thick trees and thin trees. I inspect everything from the blue spruces to the balsam firs.

Still, nothing here truly embodies the Christmas spirit. Every single thing has something wrong with it, and if I want to enjoy the perfect Christmas, then I need to find the perfect tree.

I’m feeling defeated as I leave the final lot of the evening, the sun just beginning to tickle the edge of the horizon and cast the snow covered ground with long, stretching shadows. It’s a beautiful landscape, but I’m not at all in the mood to enjoy it.

Suddenly, a wild idea rips through my mind, causing me to stop in my tracks before I return to my vehicle. Maybe the perfect tree isn’t one you’d find for sale at some random lot. Maybe I’ve gotta trek out into the woods and gather up some pure Christmas magic for myself.

With nothing left to lose, I immediately turn and start trudging up a nearby hillside, watching as a variety of plants begin to spring up around me. At this point, none of them are anything resembling your typical Christmas tree, but as I continue deeper into the woods, a few options begin to present themselves.

I can feel myself growing more and more excited with every step, realizing now that this plan is exactly what I needed. Everything about this feels raw and powerful and true, the exact opposite of some fake plastic monstrosity from the grocery store.

Suddenly, I gasp, my eyes fixing upon the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.

“Oh hey,” the tree blurts, turning around and smiling wide. “I didn’t see you there!”

I try my best to respond in a cool, casual manner, but immediately find myself stumbling over my words.

“You alright?” the tree eventually continues, filling in the awkward empty space in our conversation.

“Yeah,” I finally stammer, coming to my senses. “Sorry about that, it’s just… you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

The sentient fir laughs and smiles, appreciating my comment but certainly not embarrassed to be thrust into the spotlight. She knows just how attractive she is, and isn’t afraid to harness that energy. There’s a confidence to this tree that’s undeniable.

“What’s your name?” the tree questions.

“Amy,” I inform her.

“I’m Noona,” she replies. “What brings out all the way out here? I don’t get a lot of visitors growing in the middle of the forest, especially with the snow and all that.”

“I’m looking for a Christmas tree,” I reply. “The perfect Christmas tree.”

Noona can’t help but roll her eyes. “There’s no perfect anything, that’s just silly.”

I immediately think to counter this comment with an assertion of my own, but suddenly an unexpected realization crosses my mind. All the other trees I encountered this evening we’re just waiting to be taken home and strung up with lights. Noona clearly doesn’t give a damn whether or not I select her for this important yuletide role, placing me firmly on the opposite side of a familiar equation.

Now I’m the one looking to impress her.

This, of course, only serves to make Noona that much more attractive. She’s standing before me and espousing the theory that perfection is just a pipe dream, but she’s the last one who could make a convincing argument in this regard. I’m gazing at perfection right now, a tree that could only be found in the most elaborate Christmas morning fantasies. Every branch extends flawlessly from her thick central core, green and healthy and looking quite similar to the fake tree from just hours earlier.

But Noona isn’t made of metal and plastic, and the coldness that clung to my previous option is far removed from her holiday warmth.

“Would you like to come home with me?” I finally muster up the courage to ask.

Noona smiles. “Whoa. You get right to the point, don’t you?”

The tree takes her time answering, savoring the tension that’s been building between us. At first I’m not sure if the weight I feel is erotism or just awkwardness, but as Noona gazes back at me I begin to realize that she’s just as attracted to me as I am to her.

She’s weighing her options, struggling to determine if I’m right for the job.

“Why don’t we stay here for a bit?” she finally offers in return.

The tree’s question causes me to flinch, an unexpected bump in the road that I hadn’t seen coming. It’s cold out, and a date night somewhere warm and cozy would’ve been the perfect way to end this rather exhausting day. Staying out here in the snow with Noona would be wonderful, but it’s not exactly what I’m looking for.

Maybe this isn’t the tree for me.

Before I have a chance to lose myself down this road of thought, however, the beautiful tree begins to saunter toward me. She sways her hips with seductive grace, exuding a breathtaking confidence that makes me tremble with anticipation.

When the tree finally arrives she presses up against my body, allowing me to feel the weight of her branches. She leans in close, her lips just barely pressing against mine before she stops in her tracks.

“I’m gonna change into something a little more comfortable,” the sentient plant coos.

With that, Noona turns around and heads off into the forest, just out of sight. I quickly lose track of her in the foliage, but it’s not long until I spot the tell-tale glow of her return. When the Christmas tree reemerges she’s absolutely covered in ornaments and lights, twinkling brilliantly in the snow.

I’m in awe.

Noona returns to her position before me, looking sexy as ever, then picks up right where she left off. This time, however, she doesn’t hesitate, kissing me deeply on the lips. I melt into her, accepting the touch of this beautiful tree and accepting the moment completely.

Soon enough, the two of us are making out furiously, our hands exploring one another’s bodies in the heat of passion. I begin to work my way across her branches, starting at the top of this gorgeous plant and then moving down across her cone-like form. Lower and lower my attention drops, taking time to massage her breasts and then continuing onward to her waist. I hesitate here for a moment, allowing the tension to build.

“Please,” the Christmas tree groans. “I need you.”

I finally have mercy and slip my hand down farther, lightly grazing her pussy as the softest moan escapes Noona’s lips. Soon enough I’m rubbing her, gently taking note of the way Noona’s body rocks against my touch. She’s pumping her hips in times with the back and forth motion of my hand, the two of us pressed together while I’m overwhelmed by her strong branches and the sweet scent of pine.

“That’s it,” the Christmas tree coos. “Just like that.”

Eventually, the arousal that courses through my veins pushes me to take things even farther. Without a word I retract my hand and slide down to the ground before Noona, gazing up at her playfully and offering a little wink.

I quickly get to work pressing myself deep into her green body, making my way into the tree until I finally find her pussy once more. Enveloped by her branches, I get to work lapping away at the plant’s aching clit, picking up right where I left off.

I’m already locked in with a pace Noona seems to enjoy, and it’s not long before she starts to tremble and quake, the colorful ornaments rattling loudly around me. I reach up and slip two fingers deep inside her, putting a little pressure on her inner depths while I continue to work my tongue.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” the sentient Christmas tree begins to repeat over and over again, the words falling out of her mouth in a blissed out mantra as the pleasure within her starts to build. With every passing round her cries grow louder and louder, echoing across the forest and filling this landscape with a cacophony of love. Soon enough, she’s screaming out at the top of her lungs. “Oh fuck! Merry fucking Christmas!”

With this, the lights of the tree begin to flicker, flashing off and on while she tremors wildly. She’s shaking so hard that a few of the ornaments fall into the snow next to me, but I refuse to let up for a second. I keep a consistent pace with both my fingers and my tongue, carrying Noona along through her entire climax until she’s utterly spent.

The tree staggers back a bit, struggling to collect herself.

“That was amazing,” the sentient plant offers, a holiday twinkle in her eyes. “Now it’s your turn.”

I’m still on my knees when the living tree begins to strip away my clothing, pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side. She continues to pull away fabric, exposing my body more and more until, soon enough, I’m completely bare. You’d think I might feel cold and uncomfortable in this particular position, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The erotic heat between Noona and I has warmed me to the core, overwhelming my body with an unshakable sense of comfort. I feel cozy and taken care of, swimming in a gentle haze of Christmas spirit.

I lean back into the snow, opening up my legs as the beautiful Christmas tree climbs down into position before me. Noona starts by rubbing her hands up and down across my limbs, teasing me a bit before diving in fully.

Eventually she makes her move, dropping down and getting to work on my clit with her tongue. The Christmas tree works me slowly, lapping away at my pussy while I lean back and enjoy the potent sensations that overwhelm my body.

The feeling is incredible, but I have to be honest, she’s moving a little too fast. It’s not bad by any stretch of the imagination, but her technique could be more attuned to my body.

“Wait,” I stammer, reaching down and tapping the gorgeous sentient plant to get her attention. “Just a bit slower,” I suggest.

“No problem,” Noona offers in return, clearly happy that I’ve helped her on her mission.

I lean back again, closing my eyes tight, but as I lay here I find myself suddenly distracted by a horrific realization. Up until this point, our entire sexual encounter had been perfect in every way, every movement and position going off without a hitch. Now, I find myself hung up on the fact that I had to help out Noona down there.

Does this mean she’s not really the perfect Christmas tree? After arriving at what felt like the end of a long, exhausting search, is my quest only just beginning?

I continue to ponder this, rolling the various hypotheticals through my mind over and over again. I’m lost in thought, completely pulled out of the moment I was sharing with my Christmas tree lover, but it’s not long before I find myself pulled back in.

At first all that I notice is a faint tickle in the pit of my stomach, a slight hum of erotic tension that gradually spills out across my arms and legs and fills me up. My body starts to tremble slightly, then harder and harder as Noona continues to work me.

Soon enough, the visceral sensations that blossom with me are much too powerful for any silly mental distractions to matter. I can feel my grip on the search for perfection slipping away, disappearing into a raging sea of pleasure.

“Keep going!” I scream, throwing my head back as I pump my hips against the Christmas tree’s beautiful face. “Just like that! Just like that!”

Noona turns my own technique back around on me, slipping her fingers deep within my body and applying the slightest bit of pressure as she pushes me over the edge of orgasm.

I let out an unbridled howl, utterly consumed by the sensation as I experience the most potent climax of my life. I feel as though I’ve been lifted out of my mortal frame, spiritually adrift as visions of sugarplums dance in my head. Meanwhile, jingle bells ring out loudly in my ears and the already wonderful scent of pine is momentarily replaced by the smell of baking gingerbread and peppermint bark.

This is exactly the Christmas I was looking for, and as I finally return to my body I’m struck with the profound realization that it was far from perfect.

I lay back in the snow, struggling to catch my breath as Noona comes over and joins me. The two of us cuddle up, gazing into the night sky above as the last moments of sunlight fade and the stars begin to twinkle brightly above.

“That was amazing,” I gush.

“Yeah,” the Christmas tree sighs. “It was. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to dress up with all these lights and ornaments this year, but now here we are. How’d you find me all the way out here?”

“Luck, I guess,” I offer in return.

“Well, things worked out perfectly, didn’t they?” Noona counters, pulling me a little closer.

After my obsession with this very idea, part of me wants to accept her comment for the fleeting observation that it is, but I just can’t help myself. I’ve learned a lot today.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” I reply, sitting up and gazing down at my beautiful holiday lover. “I think I seriously pissed off my friend back at the grocery store, and I was exhausted when I got here. Our sex was great, but it’s not like we knew exactly what each other wanted the second we started hooking up. The point is, we had to communicate a bit for that encounter to be as wonderful as it was.”

Noona cracks a knowing smile, appreciating the nuance of my words. She’s not offended at all, in fact, it seems like she’s actually proud of me. “You’re right,” the Christmas tree offers. “It was perfectly imperfect, which I guess is the best that anyone can ask for.”

I lean in and kiss the sentient tree deeply on the lips.

“You wanna come back to my house for the season?” I question when I finally pull away.

“Yeah,” Noona replies warmly. “I’d love to spend the holidays with you. We’ll have to split our time, though.”

I narrow my eyes, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Not a lot of humans realize that us Christmas trees have a tradition of our own,” Noona explains. “Out in the wild, we typically keep a good looking human around, wrapped up in lights and ornaments and all that. We put our Christmas gifts at their feet.”

“Oh,” I blurt. “I didn’t realize. So you wanna come back to my apartment and be my Christmas tree for half the time, and the other half I’ll be out here as your Christmas human?”

“If you’re up for it,” Noona replies, smiling wide.

I consider her offer, reeling from the gratitude that flows through me.

“This wasn’t the holiday I had in mind,” I explain, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d love to be your Christmas human.”

The two of us hug and then begin to unstring Noona’s lights, unwrapping them from her perfect fir body and placing them snugly around my own form. We find good places for all her ornaments on my ears, arms and fingers, and soon enough I’ve found myself fully dressed to impress.

Soon enough, other trees begin to emerge from the forest, greeting Noona and I warmly. Noona introduces me as her new girlfriend, and every time it fills my heart with an aching warmth. We spend the night laughing and dancing and chowing down on delicious Christmas cookies that one of her friends baked this afternoon.

As the chatter of socializing fir trees fills the woods, I can’t help but return to the thought that this arrangement isn’t quite want I expected. In this partnership neither one of us gets exactly what we want all of the time. Instead, we compromise.

This is so much better than perfection, I realize, because perfection isn’t real.

Love is real.