Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Erotic Romance
Christmas is the season of giving…spankings and orgasms.
Why stuff the turkey when they can stuff her?
It’s Thanksgiving, two and a half years after lockdown began, and Tuck and Esme Parrish are deciding how to celebrate. Normally they’d have dinner with either his folks or hers, but with travel restrictions no longer a factor, both sets of parents are taking advantage and spending the holiday elsewhere. With a chance to craft the day to their tastes for a change, they decide to host a Friendsgiving.
The guest list is small, just four friends—Spence, Jude, Evan and Colin. Realizing she’ll be spending the day with her sexy husband and four single, sexy friends (some who had crushes on her in college, and one of whom she’s already slept with), Esme makes a joke about all the F.I.L.T.H (Friends I’d Like To Hump) coming for dinner. Which gives Tuck an idea: why not turn this Friendsgiving into a Bangsgiving?
When lockdown hit, it put a halt to a new and exciting element of Tuck and Esme’s sex life: swinging. It started as a way for Tuck to indulge his candaulism kink (a desire to show off his wife). But he soon discovered that sharing gorgeous, curvy Esme with other men was even more fun—for both of them. They were just finding their groove when lockdown happened, and though their sex life is still exciting and fun, they’ve missed the extra zing that swinging gave them. And Esme has had a gang bang on her swinging to-do list for a while…
Hey, it's Thanksgiving—what better time to get stuffed?
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According to my Twitter feed, I started talking about a Thanksgiving Gang Bang Romance called Stuffed in November of last year, I think in response to a post wondering why there weren’t more Thanksgiving themed romances (I have a vague recollection of this, but when I went back to look at it, whoever said it has since deleted their account so I can’t see the tweet). I had it on my calendar to write during the spring/early summer for publication on November 1, but my life kind of exploded this year, and there were days I honestly wondered if I’d be able to pull it off. It was just supposed to be a one-off, a silly little sex romp, but then I started putting the supporting cast together and well, I liked them all so much, how could I not give them their own Happily Ever Afters? So now it’s a four book series, because I don’t have enough on my plate.
Esme Parrish snuggled into her husband’s side with a happy sigh. She was pleasantly fuzzed from the wine they’d had with dinner, warm from the fire snapping in the hearth, and the steady thump of Tuck’s heart was lulling her to sleep.
“You’re asleep,” he said, amused, his voice rumbling under her ear, and she forced her eyes wide.
“No I’m not,” she protested, then frowned at the TV. “When did you put Star Wars on?”
“Half an hour ago.” He grinned down at her, his teeth gleaming white in the forest of his ginger beard. “You didn’t even notice.”
She reached across him for the remote. “You know the rules. No Star Wars on date night.”
“We also said no falling asleep during the movie on date night,” he reminded her, and held the remote out of reach.
“No, we said if I fell asleep during the movie you could wake me up with sex.”
“I was going to do that after Star Wars,” he admitted, his smile widening when she snorted out a laugh. “A New Hope and sex? That’s the perfect date night.”
She poked him in thebelly, her finger bouncing off the slight curve. “You agreed, Tuck. No backsies.”
“Fine, here.” He passed her the remote, and the bowl of popcorn. “Eat some of this, maybe it’ll keep you awake.”
She took the remote and aimed it at the television. “You didn’t put enough salt on it.”
“Your blood pressure will thank me.”
“I’m thirty-one, Tuck.” She found the movie she wanted and hit play. “My blood pressure is fine.”
“It’s fine now.” He settled back against the couch. “But your heart’s going to explode by the time you’re fifty if you keep treating salt like a condiment.”
She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and spread it over her bare legs. “I only like a lot on popcorn.”
“And French fries.”
“Everybody likes salt on French fries.”
“You’re not supposed to be able to see it,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah.” She laid her head on his broad chest and swallowed a yawn. “Just watch the movie.”
“Moonstruck again? You’ve watched this so many times you can recite the dialogue,” he complained. “Plus, it’s old.”
“Excuse me? It came out after A New Hope,” she pointed out. “Like, a decade after.”
“But there are more recent Star Wars movies,” he explained. “So if you go by the last film in the franchise, it’s actually much newer.”
She stared at him for a moment. “You can hear yourself saying these things, right?”
“Just watch the movie,” he grumbled.
They watched in companionable silence for a while, content just to be together. Work had been so busy for both of them lately that tonight was the first time in a week they’d managed to have a meal together. Normally they’d be eager to go out on a Friday night, especially now that they were out of lockdown, but neither of them had been in the mood for crowds or company. So it was just the two of them, takeout Thai food, popcorn and Moonstruck.
Tuck chuckled, the rumble of it jerking her from a contented doze. “I always forget how over the top Nick Cage is in this movie.”
“He’s always over the top,” she said, trying to sound awake.
“Yeah, but he’s extra OTT in this,” Tuck replied. He shifted, scooching lower on the sofa, and lifted his stocking feet to rest on the coffee table. “Speaking of extra, did you talk to your mom today?”
“Nice segue,” she said, and poked his belly again in rebuke.
“Am I wrong?”
She settled against him again, adjusting to his new position. “No.”
“Well?” he prompted.
“She texted. Their connecting flight in New York was delayed, but they made it safely.”
“I can’t believe they decided to spend Thanksgiving in Paris.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, wincing when her hair caught on the buttons of his flannel shirt. “Your parents are spending Thanksgiving in Florida.”
“Because my sister and her kids live there,” he pointed out, and reached up to disentangle her hair. “Your parents are in Paris visiting who, again?”
“Parisians?” she ventured with a laugh. “It’s their fortieth anniversary trip. They already had to put it off for two years, they didn’t want to wait any longer.”
“I’m not complaining,” he assured her, and smoothed her hair back. “It’ll be nice not to have to watch football with your dad this year.”
“You didn’t watch it with him last year,” she pointed out. “Or the year before.”
“Yes, I did. Remember, your mom dropped off food, and then we had to eat—and watch the game—over video chat.”
“She was just trying to make things normal,” she chided him. “It nearly killed her to not be able to have everyone over. And my dad only watches it because you like it. He’s trying to find common ground, so he can bond with you.”
“Are you sure about that? Because he glares at me the whole time.”
She tucked her tongue in her cheek. “Well, when you walk in on some guy doing your daughter doggie over the bathroom sink…”
“That was six years ago,” Tuck protested, scowling when Esme started to laugh. “And he barged in.”
“He thought you were hurting me,” Esme managed between giggles.
“Because you’re a screamer,” he retorted, still scowling even as his brown eyes brightened with humor.
“I just wanted you to know you were doing a good job,” she said innocently. “I didn’t necessarily want my dad to know it, but…”
“Ha. They’re not planning to video chat us from Paris, are they?”
She thought about saying yes, just to yank his chain. “No, Mom already told me not to expect to hear from them. They’re visiting Normandy that day.”
He relaxed against her. “Good.”
“Of course, Aunt Jane invited us to join her for dinner,” she went on, because yanking his chain was irresistible.
He went tense again. “They’re in Petosky.”
“It’s only a three-hour drive,” she pointed out innocently. “Well, three and a half.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious?”
“It’s a family holiday,” she cooed, and batted her lashes at him.
“You’re joking.” The air left his lungs in a woosh, and he sagged against the cushions. “Thank God.”
“I almost had you that time,” she said smugly.
“Don’t do that to me,” he groused. “What would you have done if I’d said yes?”
She snorted. “You were never going to say yes to going to Aunt Jane’s. Not after she accidentally racked you in the balls with a pool cue at Dad’s birthday party three years ago.”
“Accidentally, my ass,” he muttered with a scowl.
“Anyway,” she said, gamely swallowing a snort of laugher, “we have a decision to make.”
“What are we going to do for Thanksgiving?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. What do you want to do?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I’ve always gone to someone else’s house. I guess it might be fun to have our own Thanksgiving.”
“Just the two of us?” He raised one ginger eyebrow. “We’ll be eating leftovers on St. Patrick’s Day.”
“We can get a small turkey,” she told him. “We don’t have to get a thirty pounder.”
“A small turkey is still going to be too much for the two of us.”
“Well, what if we invite some friends?”
His expression turned thoughtful. “Like a Friendsgiving?”
“Yeah,” she said, warming to the idea. “We can ask the people who don’t have any place else to go, and everyone can bring something so I don’t have to do all the cooking—”
“You’re going to cook?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You’ve never cooked Thanksgiving dinner before,” he pointed out. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
“It won’t be that hard if everyone brings something,” she pointed out, and sat up. “What do you think?”
“I’m up for it. But we should keep it small,” he went on. “No more than say, half a dozen people, tops.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “Most of my friends are spending the holiday with family or significant others.”
“Mine too.” He dragged a hand through his mop of reddish-brown curls, shades darker than his beard. “I’ll have to double check, but I’m pretty sure everyone who’s paired off has plans.”
“Maybe we should figure out who doesn’t have plans,” she suggested.
“Well, I know Jude’s going to be in town.” He shot her a curious look. “You okay with him coming?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, last time we saw him, he was balls deep in your pussy.”
“You were balls deep in my throat at the time,” she reminded him, and tried not to squirm at the memory.
“Yeah, I was.” His eyes went soft, the way they did when he was turned on, and Esme felt an answering tug low in her belly.
“Besides, that was over two years ago,” she reminded him.
“Unfortunately,” he said with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows, and laughed when she poked him again. “Seriously, though, it wouldn’t be weird for you?”
“Not unless you think he’d be an ass about it.”
“No, he gets that what happens at the swingers club stays at the swingers club.”
“Then it’s not a problem for me,” she said, then frowned. “Would it be weird for you?”
“No,” he assured her. “It was hot, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime—”
“—but I think we can probably make it through one dinner without spit roasting you.”
“You’re such a pervert,” she said with a sigh.
“That’s why you love me,” he quipped.
“Let’s invite him,” she said, and ignoring his leer, grabbed her phone off the coffee table to scroll through her contacts. “Who else?”
He dug his phone out of his pocket and tapped at the screen. “Evan, probably. And where Evan goes—”
“—Colin follows,” she finished. “Do you think they’re ever going to stop dancing around each other?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said absently. “They’ve been insisting they’re just friends since college.”
She shook her head. “They should just do it already and get it over with.”
“You should tell them that, babe.” A small smirk curled his lips as he worked his phone. “I’m sure that wouldn’t make dinner awkward at all.”
“I’m just saying,” she muttered, and continued to scroll. “What about Spencer?”
“Isn’t he still dating that lawyer? Kennedy something-or-other?”
“I don’t know.” Esme frowned. “But if he is, don’t invite them.”
He looked up from his phone. “What? Why?”
She grimaced. “I didn’t like her.She was awful to the waitress when we went to lunch with them last summer.”
“When was this?”
“Right after they opened up indoor dining again.”
He frowned. “I don’t remember her treating the waitress poorly.”
“You and Spence were locked into the Tigers game,” she reminded him. “Trust me, she was awful. Snide, condescending—she actually snapped her fingers. I left a huge tip and an apology note.”
“I’ll find out if he’s still with her before I extend the invitation.”
“Thank you.” She went back to her phone. “Want me to tag Jude?”
“Already done. You get Evan and Colin, and I’ll see where Spence is with Kennedy.”
“’Kay.” She tapped out a quick text to Evan, copied it to Colin, and set her phone down. “Done.”
“One minute,” he muttered, tapping away, then set his phone next to hers. “Now, where were we?”
“Watching the movie,” she said, and feigned surprise when he shook his head. “We weren’t watching the movie?”
“We were,” he said in a throaty purr. “Until you reminded me about spit roasting you with Jude at the swingers club.”
“Oh, yeah.” Her sigh was wistful. “Good times.”
He leaned forward to nuzzle his nose into her neck. “I miss those good times.”
“Me too.” She eased back to lay on the sofa, and he followed her down. “Covid really fucked with our plans for more of that.”
“Mmm.” Tuck turned his head slowly, scraping his bearded jaw against the tender skin behind her ear, letting out a pleased chuckle when she shivered. “Now that things are getting back to normal, we can pick it back up.”
“Yeah.” He closed his teeth on her earlobe, nipping hard enough to make her squeak. “According to the website, they’re open for business again.”
“Oh,” she breathed, and let her eyes drift closed. Arousal, familiar and sweet, was beginning rise in her belly and breasts, between her thighs. Her neck tingled where his beard scraped, her earlobe throbbed from the bite of his teeth. “The club, sure.”
He stilled against her. “You don’t want to go back to the club?”
“No, I do,” she hastened to assure him, and let out a little laugh. “Sorry, my mind wandered into fantasy-land for a second.”
“I like fantasy-land,” he said, and dipped his tongue into her ear. “Tell me.”
She squirmed, a little embarrassed by the direction her thoughts had taken. “It’s silly.”
He lifted his head to peer into her face. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”
“Pervert,” she accused with a smile. “It was just a harmless little Thanksgiving gang bang fantasy.”
“Thanksgiving gang bang?” he repeated, a slow smile curving his mouth. “Really?”
“What do you expect, with all the FILTH coming over for dinner?”
He choked on a laugh. “Filth?”
“F-I-L-T-H,” she explained, spelling it out. “Friends I’d Like To Hump.”
He laughed so hard the sofa shook. “Hump? Did you just say hump?”
“I couldn’t think of another H word for fucking,” she said, and pinched his hip to get him to stop laughing.
“Do you really think about fucking my friends?”
“They’re our friends,” she reminded him archly. “And yeah, I think about it. But it’s just a fantasy. Except for Jude, of course.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was wearing his serious thinking face, and there was a trouble-maker gleam in his eye; the combination made her suspicious. “What’re you thinking about, Tucker James Parrish?”
“What if it wasn’t just a fantasy?”
Stuffed doesn’t really have a lot of angst in it. It does feature Covid as a plot point, but no one becomes or is sick. There’s a lot of sex, with some BDSM-lite (spanking the bad girl, a little Daddy kink), and at one point jizz pretty much goes everywhere, but other than that I can’t think of any real content issues. There is mention of someone’s single parent getting remarried, and two secondary characters who are clearly madly in love with each other and suffering in silence, and limited and responsible alcohol use.