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Author’s note: All sex in this made-up story involves humans aged 18+ who do not expect what happens. It is not rape but what happens to this Loving Fiancé is not exactly consensual. Views expressed are not necessarily the author’s. Your constructive comments are welcome. If you like this entry in the Winter Holidays 2014 Contest, join the 1% and VOTE!

Gift Box
She was all she had to give

Grace Kim was nervous as hell. You might be twitchy, too, if you were tightly scrunched-up stark naked inside a not-too-large gift box. Like Grace, you would likely squirm, queasy but hopeful, waiting in your fiancé’s living room. Waiting for him to come home; waiting for contact; waiting for his reactions.

Surprise! That is what Grace wanted. And happy laughter, lascivious laughter. And expressions of lust. And love. And… acceptance.

Grace had carefully prepared the scene.

A trip to K-Mart for a cheap bicycle, just for the right size box. (She donated the bike to a youth center.) Careful decoration of the box to render a perfect this-is-for-you Christmas gift look. Careful punching of thumb-size air holes — she would be inside for an unknown time. Hiding her Vespa behind her fiancé Benito’s garage and sneaking into his faux-adobe house on Tucson, Arizona’s east side that warm Winter Solstice afternoon, a week before the scheduled wedding. (All okay — Benito gave her the keys.) Arranging the room. Stripping, and hiding her clothes under the sofa. Powdering and scenting her body just right. Climbing into the tight box. Pulling it shut from the inside. Crouching on hands and knees.

And waiting. Benito should be home soon.

The box was not huge but neither was she. Even tightly packed, she did not feel stressed or compressed. The air temperature was comfortable. She felt some little perspiration at body joins, and her pussy… well, her pussy was getting wet, she had to admit that. She was getting excited.

Four days till Christmas. Three days beyond till the wedding and reception in Tohono Chul Park’s main gallery. Then on to their New Year’s honeymoon in Mazatlan. And why was she here now? She thought she knew.


Grace Kim’s family ran an Asian market and reputedly the best Korean BBQ eatery in greater Tucson. Cat-corner from their site at a busy intersection, Benito Borges’ family ran a Latino market and allegedly the best Salvadoran loncheria in the area, renowned for shrimp-stuffed pupusas.

Grace and Benito had vaguely know each other all their lives. Benito was a year older so they rarely interacted in public school. They really met when Grace started in the drama program at the nearby community college. She was fascinated with stage design: scenery, lights and sound. He concentrated on direction and production. The inevitable: they got together. But not easily.

The senior Kims were old-school Methodists with old-country morality. They tried to imprint their offspring with their values.

“You still a good girl, Grace? You haven’t disgraced yourself or anything?”

Grace was helping her mom Naomi inventory the store’s stockroom early that year. As usual, they talked. As usual, Naomi embarrassed her daughter.

“I mean, you’re hanging out with that Bore-hays boy all the time. He’s not too bad and neither is his family, but… well, you know how those Catholic boys are with sin and confession. Do whatever they want, confess it, do it again. You’ve got to make sure you’re protected.” Naomi marked her checklist and moved to another shelf.

Grace felt herself flushing.

“Yeah Mom, I’m on the pill, you know that. You got me the prescription. But I haven’t done anything, not with Benito, not with anyone.”

“You’d just better be careful. Don’t want to be married with a big belly – or worse yet, not married.”

Grace blushed again. “Mom…” she whined, and turned away.

“Oh, go on, get going, I’ll finish this myself. You have schoolwork, right?”

Yes, Grace had schoolwork. Yes, she thought about Benito. Yes, she masturbated. Are you surprised?

Grace spent that year growing closer to Benito. Invisible sparks flew when their hands brushed as they passed scripts and design notes and sheets back and forth. They touched. They kissed. They fondled. First base, second base… but Grace was reluctant to move beyond, not yet.

Thanksgiving took them almost to third base.

Thanksgiving Day in USA usually means family gatherings and feastings. The following day, Black Friday, is for insane hyper-materialistic shop-a-thons and vicious bargain-grabbing. Grace and Benito sat out that greedy day.

The womenfolk went shopping early, leaving the men to somehow run things. Grace was invited to ride her salmon-pink Vespa scooter to Benito’s rental cottage instead. The day was fresh; a recent late-autumn cloudburst filled the air with spicy desert scents. Grace felt like anything could happen. It did.

“Oh yes, I’ll marry Bayan Escort Gaziantep you!” Grace cried. Joy streamed down her face.

They were sitting on his sofa listening to quiet Mizrahi music when he pulled out a little jeweler’s box and popped the question. After gasping (not quite a shreik) Grace released her death-grip hug on Benito and held out her hand. He slid the symbolic bauble on her finger and claimed her as his own.

They embraced and kissed. Their shirts disappeared, then his tank top and her bra. Hands and mouths explored upper bodies. When fingers tugged at Grace’s waist, she pulled back and held his head between her hands. She kissed him and gazed happy-sad into his eyes.

“Is something wrong, baby?” he asked.

“No more yet, Benito, not yet. Not till we’re married. It wouldn’t be right.”

They talked about the when, where and how of sex. Talked, not argued. Benito already knew better than to argue with a woman. There was no way he could win.

“No fucking or sucking till after the wedding? You’re sure?” Benito almost begged.

“I’m very sure. When I say I DO I’ll be all yours.” Grace’s Methodist upbringing whispered instructions in her ear.

“Then let’s get married right away! I’ll see how soon I can arrange it.”

The new fiancés were cozily cuddling half-naked on Benito’s bed late that afternoon when Grace’s phone sang Mama Said.

“Hi Mom, what’s up?”

“Where are you, young lady? You’re late! You’re supposed to be back here to help setup for tomorrow.”

Benito rolled on the bed. The old boxsprings squeaked.

“What was that? Are you at that boy’s place?”

“Oh Mom, we’re engaged!”

“Engaged? Engaged in what?”

Engaged in heavy necking, she giggled to herself.

“Engaged to be married! Wait a second, I’ll show you.”

She snapped a picture of the ring on her hand and sent it to Naomi.

“What? You’re going to marry him? Not in the church, I hope, ’cause you’ll have to convert, and you know our family won’t like this much. His probably won’t, either, not unless you convert; I know Julian and Maria well enough. Well, congratulations. Now get your tush back here, pronto.”

“Okay Mom, right away.”

Grace rolled into Benito and kissed him. He had heard her conversation.

“We’ll be fine, Benny baby. We don’t need to elope. But how about in a month? Right between Christmas and New Year’s. Then our anniversary parties can just be part of the holiday season.”

“Yeah, that’s a good time,” he said, lights figuratively flashing in his head. “We can do it on-stage in the school theater, stage it as a wedding play that’s the real thing! I’ll put video crews on it. And we can get that Unitarian gal to officiate. And-“

Grace silenced him with another kiss.

“And we can work out the details later ’cause I’ve got to scoot now.” She had already donned and arranged her clothes. She pulled sneakers back on her feet and grabbed her scooter duffle.

She held him close. “I love you so much, Benito!” And then she scooted.


She loved him so much! But… she worried. (Of course she worried. Women always worry about sex. Worry is mandatory.)

They spent as much time together as possible but schoolwork and family business chores limited their private encounters. Grace carefully shepherded their face-offs and hands-ons. Kissing, yes; slurping, no. Pants on and intact.

Benito was frustrated but patient. (Was he getting any on the side? I will never tell!)

Grace was frustrated but conflicted. I want him, she thought. But I have to admit that I am afraid of him. Not just him, not just because he is who he is. No, she self-confessed, I am afraid of sex. And I am afraid of how I will change and how change will be forced on me. A whole new world… am I ready for a whole new world?

How would an outside observer describe Grace? “She’s pretty inexperienced and very reserved sexually and that has caused some tension between them.” Tension, yes, that is the right word. Grace felt the band joining her to Benito being twisted tight.

I can wait, Grace told herself. I have to wait. But I cannot wait! But I will wait. But I… she broke down in confusion. She felt (and looked a little) like a dazed squirrel. What do do? What to do?

And that is why she crouched stark naked inside a just-large-enough gift box.

She had decided to show Benito she would “give herself to him completely”. And this evening: a sneak preview. She told him she would be shopping today. That was a distraction. This was the real thing. It’s showtime, folks.

Grace heard the front door open and footsteps rustling around, then walking closer, then stopping. Then waiting. She was so nervous!

A body (HIS body?) brushed against the box and rocked it slightly. Grace held her breath. A hand (HIS hand?) stretched fingers into one of the air holes, one atop the box, and touched the small of her back. The fingers and hand crawfished out as if startled, then returned to explore her skin. Other fingers crawled in another hole and touched her hips. The rough fingers stroked her nervous flesh and caressed her freshly-risen goosebumps.

Grace asked herself, oh fuck, what am I doing? She felt flushed with embarrassment… and tingly with pleasure at the touches (HIS touches?)

The fingers departed. She braced herself, ready for him to unwrap his present so she could jump out and greet him.

Instead, the fingers (HIS fingers?) returned though other air holes to explore her body more. His fingers brushed her jaw, her neck, the sides of her breasts and throat and face. His fingers pushed into her mouth — and she stiffened. She had never really done much orally. But she realized this is what her gift is all about. She sucked the fingers into her mouth and tried to embrace the moment.

The fingers left and returned again through a different hole, a hole at the back of the box. A finger ran down her ass; she boosted her butt a little. The finger inquiringly stroked her cheeks… and poked right into her freshly-clean asshole! She stiffened again; she had never explored that area before. Thankfully, after a little tickling of her ass, the hand moved to an adjacent air hole — and fingered her clit and pussy from behind. Oh fuck!

She was dripping wet. She opened her mouth, preparing to scream, “Will you open your present already?!” when she heard the front door open again. The prodding hand gave her pussy a pretty poke and retreated. What?

An unfamiliar voice said, “Hey Steve, looks like we’re the first ones here. Did you get the stripper?”

Unbeknownst to Grace, this was the night her fiancé’s friends chose for his surprise bachelor party.

“Not me, Leon; I thought Dave was hiring her. You seen Dave yet?”

“Dave’s not here. Hey, d’you know that Cheech’n’Chong thing? Ha!”

“Oh, fuck you and your Cherokee grandma too! Well, Dave must have been here ’cause we have a nice package of flesh already.” A hand patted the box. “Maybe he went to get nachos or subs or something. You brought the kegs, right?”

“Yeah, and d’you have any idea how hard it is to get Bisbee Electric? I got a keg of Beast Ale, too. Kick-ass stuff! Benny’s gonna owe us, big-time.”

Benito’s two friends discussed the planned evening. Both assumed that a third pal had ordered and delivered the gift-wrapped stripper.

Grace was mortified. What should she do? She heard them plan to take her finacé out for a night of drinking, dancing, derring-do, and maybe some dick-dipping. She wished she could get out, grab her clothes, and run to the bathroom to change without anyone knowing. But, oh fuck! She had closed herself in the box very neatly — she could not get out on her own!

Leon’s voice asked, “What stripper you talking about?”

Steve’s voice laughed, “The one in the gift box, dummy! And she feels pretty good, too, what I can feel through those little air holes, anyway.”

“Yeah? Lemee see.” Fingers reached in through various of the box’s holes. Fingers stroked her in various locations. She held her breath.

“No shit! That’s flesh, all right! Female flesh, for sure.” Fingers stroked and poked and departed. “She ever say anything?”

Steve’s voice laughed again. “No, she ain’t made a sound. HEY!” Fingers tapped on the box. “We won’t open until the groom arrives, but hey, what’s your name in there?”

Grace remained silent. Oh shit, will this never end?

Fingers reached for her again, stroked her, poked and prodded her… aroused her, almost beyond endurance.

“Hey, she’s got a nice body. Too bad we can’t reach in a little more. Maybe we could enlarge these holes…”

“Naw, don’t fuck with the box. It’s supposed to look good, y’know?” The fingertip stroking and poking continued.

She wanted to shout for them to STOP! But she could not say anything, not without revealing her identity and exposing her shame. She thought, my only way out of this without total humiliation is just… silence. Not a word, not a peep, not a gasp. She had already let two of Benito’s buddies feel and fondle her. How could she explain that to him?

Grace heard the door open again and multiple men arrive for the party. Each commented on and experienced this fantastic silent Christmas present, but no one in attendence took credit for ordering it.

One voice commented, “I don’t know… his fiancé, that little Korean babaloo? Nice butt and boobs, but she seems like kind of a prude, pretty uptight, y’know? I assumed strippers would be off-limits for this party. He might be pissed when he gets here.”

More door openings and closings on more new arrivals. More fingers poking and prodding her, delicately or roughly or firmly. With each additional man, Grace felt more ashamed, more unable to come clean and get out — and surprisingly, more wet and eager for the next man.

Eventually the door opened again amid shouts. “Hey, it’s the man!”
“Surprise, Benny!”
“Man of the hour!”
“About time you got here, boy!”
“Kiss freedom adios!”Uh, hey guys, wow, what’s all this?” Benito’s voice edged into the crowd scene.

Other male voices responded. “Bachelor party, dude! It’s traditional, y’know. Get fucked up while you can, ’cause next week you put on your slave chains.”

“Yeah, we got the food and the brews and, cowabunga! even some mystery pussy in this gift box. Hey guys, who ordered this nice present? Wasn’t Dave gonna get a stripper?”

“I dunno, man. Dave’s not here.” A few chortles on that line.

“So where’s this party going? Anyone got a club lined up?”

“Look at all the beer here — two fucking kegs! And those boxes of wine, and a few bottles of mezcal, and all those nachos and subs and snacks and shit. We don’t need to go out! We can do total party right here.”

Grace felt enveloped in a cold sweat. She was horrified. They were not going to leave! She had no chance of excape.

“Hey Benny, c’mon man, yov’ve got to try out the gift box. There’s some fine flesh inside there, and she’s wet where she’s supposed to be wet.”

“A stripper?” She heard her fiancé Benito’s voice again. “No way would Grace approve of a stripper here. A touchy-feely stripper? You mean, like a hooker? Umm, thanks guys, but I’m not going to touch her. That’s just over the line.”

“Well here, Benny, touch this, a fresh mug of Beast Ale. Hey everyone, tank up! A toast for the groom! “To Benny! Long may he wave, long may he fuck!”Grace heard beer gurgling down gullets. Someone sang a song fragment: “Oh it’s guzzle, guzzle, guzzle as it slides down the muzzle.” Someone retched.

“Oh dude, that was so fucking lame! How about this one? “Hail Grace, full of Benny!
Better pray she don’t find him with Jenny!”Laughs, groans, and gurgles. Jenny? Grace thought. Who the fuck is Jenny?

“Uh guys.” Benny’s voice again. “I got nothing with Jenny. That’s long over.”

“Sure, but be sure to let Jenny know. She still crushes on you. Hey, for all we know, that’s her in the box! You in there, Jenny?” Hands tapped and slapped the box. Grace willed herself into deeper silence and immobility. Please stop, please stop, she prayed; oh Lord, please make it stop.

The Lord answers all prayers. Sometimes the answer is ‘no’. Too bad, Grace.

The party rang on. Music rumbled and swirled. Men constantly poked fingers into the box to play with her captive body. Fingers prodded her to orgasm several times. It was all she could do to hold silence so her Benny would not recognize her voice.

The joking continued. No one took credit for hiring the hooker or stripper or whoever was in the gift box. No one tried to open her box. Grace spent the evening being groped, fondled, and fingered by everyone but her fiancee.

The night continued. The drinking continued. The fondling continued — and became even more aggressive and invasive. Some holes were widened to more than thumb-thickness. More than one hand finger-fucked her from behind. A gooped-up finger slid deep inside her anus. Oh fuck!

Her view suddenly darkened. The hole in front of her face was filled… with a cock, obviously with expectations of being sucked. At this point she could NOT get out and run away, but she could not do THIS either! The finger behind her pushed hard and she rocked forward, her mouth open in a silent gasp — and the cock slid right in between her frightened lips. Men laughed.

Grace had no choice. She sucked. And swallowed.

More alcohol was consumed. More inhibitions were lowered. More cocks were stuffed in front of her face — and the hole in back was widened enough to allow penile entry. Her pussy was barely out of range of questing cunt-splitters but her poor asshole was positioned just right. Grace was spit-roasted in the most humiliating way. At least the guys lubed their cocks before sliding into her ass.

She felt hot semen spew into her bowels, and again, and again. Cockloads of cum unloaded in her mouth. Grace marveled at her digestive tract’s capacity.

More drunken voices.

“Whoever hired this whore got a real pro!” Hands slapped the gift box.

“Yeah, she’s been taking it in her mouth and up her ass all night. Hope she got paid well.”

“No, that’s not Jenny. She would never lower herself to this.”

“Well, whoever it is, she’s gonna be all fucked-out before this is over.”

The party cruised at dull-roar level. Grace was almost catatonic until someone banged metal pot-lids together like rotten cymbals and yelled.

“Hey dudes! Hey everyone! Shut up! Listen up!”

Ambient sound levels dropped. The music was turned down.

“Yeah, okay, it’s almost midnight, the fucking witching hour, and gift-opening time. Look at the box. Nothing on it says DO NOT OPEN TILL XMAS, right? So before Benny passes out completely — yeah Juan, shove him over here — before he turns turtle on us, he’s got to open the box. C’mon Benny, let’s see what your special gift is!”

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