Chuck Tingle
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Oh By Gosh, By Golly, It’s Time For Mistletoe And Holly To Get Me Off Bisexually
🕑 Added 2023-12-14 14:57:58 +0000 UTC
When Jenny notices mistletoe hanging at the Christmas party she’s attended, a thought suddenly crosses her mind: mistletoe is a little problematic, isn’t it?
Demanding people kiss just because they’re caught under this holiday plant seems wrong to Jenny, and she’s determined to set things right by hanging a sign that explains the kissing part is optional. Unfortunately, when Jenny returns she finds that the mistletoe has disappeared.
Jenny eventually locates sentient sprigs of mistletoe and holly, but she quickly discovered these plants aren’t so hot on humankind’s Christmas traditions either. They’d rather celebrate this winter season with a brisk walk in the park.
It’s not long before this walk turns erotic, but not because of some silly problematic game. Instead, it’s because they’re all consenting adults who want to have some holiday fun, and by gosh, by golly, they’ll have it.
This erotic tale is 4,000 words of sizzling bisexual human on holiday plant threesome action.
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OH BY GOSH, BY GOLLY, IT’S TIME FOR MISTLETOE AND HOLLY TO GET ME OFF BISEXUALLY
By Chuck Tingle
“Welcome!” Peter shouts as he opens the door to greet me, eyes wide with yuletide excitement. “Come in! Come in!”
My friend urges me inside, quickly shutting the door behind us and relieving my body of the frigid air that danced across my skin.
Peter turns back to the living room of mingling party-goers. “Hey everyone, Jenny is here!”
Everyone turns from their conversations and offers me a cheerful greeting, including plenty of folks I haven’t even met yet. I suppose the holidays will do that, bring out a sort of gleeful kindness for nothing more than the sake of the season.
Peter takes note of spaghetti dish I hold in my hands. “Oh! Let me take that for you,” he insists.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I offer in return, maintaining my grip. “I’ll bring it to the kitchen, this is your party.”
My friend sighs, then nods back over his shoulder. “Down the hallway and to your right,” he explains.
I follow his instructions, turning and continuing on through the mass of holiday revelers. Familiar Christmas music drifts through the air, the sweet and soulful bellow of some 50s crooner weaving a classic melody that’s been seared into my brain after years and years of repetition. Hell, I’ve been listening to this song for decades now.
A chatter of conversation hovers just over the music, various holiday pals gathered around the room as they catch up on the past year or discuss their plans for the future. Every face is smiling, bathed in the sparkling glow of an enormous Christmas tree that sits in the corner, or the light from a roaring fire that’s positioned against the back wall. Stockings are draped along the brick rim, hanging down in vibrant red and sporting a beautiful white trim.
I reach the other side of the room and head down the hallway, but Peter suddenly calls out to stop me. “Hey! Head’s up for the mistletoe!”
His words cause me to stop abruptly, a surge of panic erupting across my body. Frozen in place, I allow my eyes to drift slowly upward, my gaze gradually falling upon a green spring of mistletoe that hangs from the ceiling by a shimmering red ribbon.
This little green fern is not quite as intimidating as my reaction might suggest, but it’s not the plant itself that brings me worry.
According to tradition, anyone caught standing beneath the mistletoe must kiss. It’s not the kissing part that bothers me, of course. I love to kiss, after all. Rather, the part that gives me pause is the must qualifier.
I step to the side, pressing myself against the wall of the hallway and squeezing past. Even with my dish piled high with spaghetti I manage to slip by, careful not to fall under the shadow of this hanging holiday object.
Eventually, I make it to the kitchen and set my dish down next to the other foods. This spread is incredible, a whole potluck of delicious offerings crowded along the counter. There’s mashed potatoes, turkey with gravy, a Christmas ham, yams and beans and cornbread. The desserts are just as enticing, with pies of blackberry, pumpkin and apple, as well as a whole heaping plate of Christmas cookies that sparkle with frosting and sugar.
I should be utterly beside myself with anticipation and hunger, but for some reason those feelings never come.
I’m preoccupied with something else, my attention still lingering in that dimly lit hallway where the mistletoe hangs silently above, waiting for someone unsuspecting to wander underneath. I’ve never really thought much about the tradition, but now that I’ve come face to face with this deeply problematic little spring, I feel like I need to do something about it.
I leave my food and head back into the hallway, but instead of returning to the living room I creep even deeper into the house, to a closed door at the end. This is Peter’s office.
I slowly push open the door and slip inside, the atmosphere immediately shifting as all the holiday sights and sounds fall away. In here, it’s just another day, not so much as a single bunch of tinsel hanging from the computer or the printer that rest nearby on a plain grey desk.
I pull open the desk’s top drawer, reaching inside and pulling out a black pen with an extra fat tip. Next, I extract a single sheet of paper, placing it on the desk before me. I write my message in large block letters, choosing my words carefully.
Please note: You do not actually have to kiss anyone under the mistletoe if you get caught here. Only if you want to.
I hold the page up and look it over, admiring my handiwork. For a brief moment, I wonder if I’m just being silly, then push these reservations away. Instead of hesitating any longer, I rummage around a bit more until I find myself a tape dispenser, then tear off a small piece of translucent tape for each corner of the brilliant white rectangle.
When my sign is ready I slip out of the office, back into the hallway. I stroll down this long aisle, preparing to place my sign, when something stops me in my tracks. At first, I figure I must be missing something, that my eyes are deceiving me, but as my gaze scans across the ceiling above I find myself gradually forced to accept the reality of the situation. The mistletoe is gone.
“What the fuck,” I murmur to myself, utterly confused.
I remove the tape and then fold up my sign, slipping it into my pocket for later. I scan the party scene, diligently searching for any sign of the mistletoe and coming up empty.
Peter locks eyes with my across the room. “What’s up?” he calls out.
“Have you seen the mistletoe?” I shout back.
Peter shakes his head, then shrugs, not at all concerned.
I head back into the kitchen, eyes still peeled for any sign of that little green sprig. My attention moves from one dish to the next, suddenly worried that someone might’ve thought it was a herb and mixed it with their food.
I’m pretty sure mistletoe is poisonous.
Thankfully, my search ends when I glance out the back door and catch sight of some familiar green foliage, the mistletoe sprig floating in the air with its back to me. It appears to be deep in conversation with someone else, but this other figure is not a human.
I step forward a bit, narrowing my eyes until I recognize the other floating plant, who happens to be yet another particularly seasonal bit of flora. It’s a bushel of holly, the spikey green leaves clustered around patches of bright red berries.
Relieved, I stroll through the kitchen and open up the sliding glass door, stepping out onto the back porch to join them.
The seasonal plants turn to look at me, their conversation cutting short.
“Oh, uh… sorry,” I fumble. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No worries,” says the mistletoe.
The second I lay eyes on him I feel my breath catch in my throat and my blood surge with a sudden warmth. He’s disarmingly handsome, a rugged and noble face juxtaposed with his mischievous, boyish smile.
The sentient plant notices my strange reaction to his appearance, seemingly confused. Instead of asking me what’s wrong, however, he introduces himself. He must be used to this.
“I’m Mick,” he offers warmly, extending his hand.
“Jenny,” I give him a shake, then turn to address the seasonal flora beside him.
The holly smiles and accepts my greeting in turn. “Holly,” she says.
“Totally. What’s your name?”
She furrows her brow. “Holly.”
“I know what plant you are, but what’s your actual name?” I press.
“Holly.”
It suddenly dawns on me that her personal name is, in fact, the same as her plant classification. I laugh awkwardly, the erotic flush of attraction that once washed over me now joined by a pang of self-conscious embarrassment.
“Oh God,” I blurt. “I’m sorry.”
Holly laughs, casual and good natured despite my mistake. She’s just as attractive as Mick, but with a wholly different vibe.
“Did you need something?” Mick asks.
I’m suddenly pulled back into focus, the whole reason I came out here now roaring into the forefront of my mind. I open my mouth to reply, but the words catch in my throat as the self-conscious anxiety that wraps around me grows tighter and tighter.
Holly and Mick stare at me blankly, waiting for me to speak.
Was the sign a stupid idea? Are they going to think I’m being too dramatic?
“I was just… I was,” I stammer, struggling to find the words.
Mick lifts an eyebrow, confused.
Not knowing what else to do, I reach into my pocket and pull out the sign. I unfold it and then hand the page over to him, hoping my written words will somehow carry me now that my vocalization has failed.
The seasonal plants read my sign, eyes carefully scanning across the page.
“I just thought someone should let everyone know,” I finally manage to choke out, the words sounding odd and stilted. “You don’t have to kiss under the mistletoe. Like, no pressure, right?”
Another devastating thought suddenly occurs to me, one that chills me to the very core. What if the sentient mistletoe actually finds what I’m saying offensive in some way? Is what my take is some sort of affront to mistletoe tradition?
Finally, a smile breaks out across Mick’s face. He begins to nod, this gesture gradually joined by Holly.
“This is great,” Mick says, the words sending a wash of sweet relief across my frame.
I can feel my muscles relax, my body finally unclenching.
“I really hate getting blamed for all the problematic traditions, you know?” he continues. “Like, I’m just a plant, can people stop acting like I want them to kiss under me? Stop turning me into an unwanted flirting game.”
“We’re natural growing lifeforms,” Holly chimes in. “Folks seem to forget that when it comes to the holidays. We’d so much rather be outside.”
“And instead we have people projecting all this shit onto us,” Mick continues. “It’s exhausting. Anyway, the sign is great. Thank you. It’s an important message.”
I suddenly realize why the sentient mistletoe and holly are standing out here all alone. Tonight isn’t a Christmas vacation for them, this is work.
Realizing that I’m interrupting their important plant time, I start to excuse myself. “I can go,” I blurt. “Sorry to bother you out here.”
“No, no,” Holly insists. “It’s cool. You seem really sweet.”
“Oh, thank you,” I reply, blushing.
We fall into silence for a moment, this break in the conversation allowing an idea to finally bubble up from the depths of my mind. “Do you two wanna go for a walk?” I ask. “You’re plants, you deserve to be outside.”
Mick hesitates. “I mean, we’re supposed to be entertaining guests.”
“I am a guest,” I remind him.
The mistletoe and holly exchange glances, communicating in silence before turning back to me.
“Sure,” Mick replies.
I wrap my jacket tightly around myself as the three of us head out, strolling around the house and making our way down the street to a nearby park. The cold isn’t exactly comfortable, but right now there’s something about the briskness that I actually like. This gentle bite of night air brings me into focus.
Every single house on this block is covered in sparkling, shimmering lights, the glorious illumination bathing us with their ever rotating hues of red, green and white. Strangely, however, these displays are not the thing drawing my attention.
Instead, I’m gazing even higher, staring at the brilliant stars above.
The holidays are a wonderful time of year, and I’m happy to celebrate with the people I care about, but I can’t help thinking that I’ve been ignoring something equally important. Winter is beautiful, and the natural changes around me are worth a moment of appreciation.
Walking side by side with Mick and Holly, I find myself taken by the living plants. They’re not just seasonal decorations to be thrown away on New Year’s Day. Every problem I had with mistletoe is something to do with the way humans have coopted him, not his actual personality.
At the end of the block the houses fall away, replaced instead by a small neighborhood park. We turn off the main drag and stroll out onto the grass, the sky above us somehow growing larger and larger with every step. We eventually come to rest on a park bench, the three of us sitting down and staring out across a wonderous view of the forest beyond.
A creek winds its way through this collection of trees, their evergreen branches delicately topped with a dusting of brilliant white snow that hasn’t yet melted away. It’s quiet, the sound of Christmas music fading and leaving nothing but the soft rustle of pines and the gentle trickle of cold water over rocks.
I take a deep breath and let it out, appreciating the moment.
“This is perfect,” I sigh.
Holly glances over at me. “Perfect?”she asks. “That’s a big word.”
I laugh. “Well, almost perfect,” I admit. “I’m a little cold. Other than that, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Do you want to head back?” Mick chimes in.
I shake my head. “It’s not that bad,” I reply. “The good company keeps me warm.”
Mick smiles, but there’s something mischievous behind his grin. I already know what he’s going to ask, so I beat him to the punch.
“Yeah, I know,” I blurt, laughing. “You’re gonna ask if I know the best way to keep warm, and you’ll be talking about fucking.”
Mick raises his eyebrows. “Hey, I didn’t say that. This is just another case of a horny human projecting something sexual onto me.”
I stand up from the bench and turn to face them, egged on by a sudden erotic charge in the air.
“You’re saying you wouldn’t want to keep me warm?” I ask.
The second these words leave my lips I freeze up, terrified that I’ve taken things too far. I think to quickly backtrack, to retreat into myself once again, but the expressions on the faces of Mick and Holly keep me steady. They’re not disgusted or offended by this idea. In fact, they seem to be into it.
“Really?” Holly questions.
I nod.
Mick grins. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”
Suddenly, the three of us are coming together in an eruption of carnal passion, our lips meeting in a fit of frantic kisses. The two plants position themselves on either side of me, each lover exploring my body with their evergreen foliage.
Slowly, the mistletoe and holly begin to strip away my clothing, exposing my body to the night air and putting that aforementioned colloquial idea to the test. Is this really enough to keep us warm?
As my shirt lifts up over my head I feel a distinct, chilling tingle surge across my exposed skin, the cool of the evening immediately making its presence known. Truth be told, it’s uncomfortable at first, but the longer we kiss the more any concern about temperature falls to the wayside.
My pants come off next, fabric tossed to the side as a soft groan escapes my lips. By now the chill has disappeared from any conscious understanding of the world around me, the heat of my pumping heart more than enough to create a balance.
All the while, I’ve been exploring the plants in turn, allowing my hands the freedom to caress every intricate edge of their leaves. I notice now that an enormous cock has started to emerge from mistletoe’s bushel, jutting out at me in an impressive display.
I let my fingers drift closer and closer, teasing him a bit before finally giving in and wrapping my grip tight around the sentient plant’s shaft. Mick lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as I work him with slow, deliberate pumps.
Behind me, Holly is still kissing along my neck and shoulders. The sentient plant finishes stripping me down, then reaches around to provide a touch of her own. I can feel her curious fingers drifting lower and lower until she takes the plunge and gently begins to rub my pussy.
“Oh fuck,” I blurt, struggling to hold myself together as a surge of erotic pleasure courses through my body.
The three of us stay like this for a while, the plants rubbing against me from either side as we manually pleasure each other. Eventually, my craving for more becomes insatiable.
Without a word, I drop to my knees before Mick, gazing up at the handsome mistletoe with a fire in my eyes.
I open my mouth and take his rod between my lips, immediately matching the steady pace of my hand the came before them. I reach up and begin to cradle his hanging balls, servicing him diligently until I notice Holly floating into position above me. The two plants begin to make out with one another, and I use this opportunity to shift my attention.
I start lapping away at Holly’s pussy, working her with equal carnal intensity. I drag my tongue across her most sensitive area in long, patient movements, then eventually focus my attention on her aching clit.
As the two plants groan and tremble I move back and forth between them, watching as their leaves shake. When I use my mouth on one I make sure to focus my fingers on the other, trading places until my excitement gets the best of me and I bless the sentient mistletoe’s cock with all of my focus.
I open wide and take Mick’s rod between my lips. Instead of pumping my face across his length, however, I take a different approach, swallowing him all the way down into my depths. When the sentient plant hits my gag reflex I somehow relax, taking him even farther until I find my face pressed tight against his stomach and his mammoth dick fully consumed. I stay like this for as long as I possibly can, maintaining the sunning deep throat maneuver as he places his hands against the back of my head.
We remain here for as long as I can possibly manage, then finally pull back when my need for air becomes to pressing. I loudly gasp, taking a moment to collect myself and then falling onto the cold ground.
I’m aware of the temperature in a logical sense, but my body doesn’t react. The erotic heat that surrounds me is more than enough for a sense of comfort.
Holly floats down to join me on the ground, the two of us making out for a moment and then rolling onto the grass. We mess around a bit, playfully teasing one another until I somehow end up positioned over her on my hands and knees.
I glance back over my shoulder at Mick, offering a playful wink. “Get over here and fuck me,” I demand.
Holly gets to work well before the mistletoe has a chance to position himself. She slips her fingers down my stomach and across my wet clit, rubbing gently as the hot pleasure spills through my veins.
Meanwhile, the handsome mistletoe behind me aligns his cock with my waiting pussy, teasing me for a moment and then finally thrusting forward with the mighty swoop of his hips.
“Fuck yeah!” I sigh, my eyes rolling back into my head as I accept the living plant’s incredible girth. This handsome mistletoe stretches me to the brink, almost too much to take but finally maxing out at the perfect moment.
Mick starts slow at first, the sentient plant rocking against my body with confident patience. He takes his time, reading the way that I reacts to his movements. Eventually, our speed begins to escalate, the two of us falling into a steady pulse with one another has his hips slap against my backside.
This sound echoes through the night air, filling the park with a steady beat to anchor the groans and cries of our lovemaking.
Below me, the sentient holly continues to work her magic. I’m rubbing her in turn, the sensations passing back and forth between us in an ever escalating feedback loop. The way she shows her pleasure is glorious, blissfully biting her lip and shaking her leaves, and it serves to turn me on even more. She reacts in the same way to my carnal expressions, and soon enough we’ve completely lost ourselves in the moment, heaving against one another as our cries entangle, an erotic chorus that drifts through the night air.
I can feel the first hints of a powerful orgasm blossoming at the pit of my stomach, blooming larger and larger with every passing second. The warmth begins to spill across my arms and legs, filling me up until there’s no place left for these feelings to go.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I murmur, the words softly tumbling from my lips until I repeat them again, and again, and again. I grow louder with every passing round until I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, utterly consumed by the pleasure. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum!”
The tension within me finally releases in a glorious orgasm, raw sensation ripping through my frame and causing me to curl up like a howling beast. All the while the plant behind me and the plant below me keep working their holiday magic, carrying me through this entire carnal eruption.
In fact, it appears Holly is on a similar journey.
“Me too!” the sentient plant shrieks, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me close. Our bodies quake and jerk together as every bit of our tension releases.
For a moment it feels as though I’ve left my body entirely, my senses pinned in a way that no mortal frame can fully comprehend. Instead of physical material, I feel as though I’ve transformed into pure energy, wild and free as I connect to the natural world around me.
All the while Mick continues hammering into me, carrying me through my orgasm from beginning to end.
When I finally regain my senses I glance back over my shoulder and give him a furious command. “Blow that hot mistletoe load all over me!”
His climax is perfectly timed, immediately pulling out as the pleasure within him erupts and finds its physical shape. His sensation coalesces in the form of milky spunk, the jizz erupting in pearly ropes across my waiting ass. He covers me in his cum, an impressive payload that finally ends as he stumbles back in exhaustion.
The three of us collapse onto the ground with one another, utterly exhausted.
Above us, the blanket of stars has somehow grown even brighter and more complete. It looks like an astral river, sparkling and shimmering across the vast black sky above.
“That was incredible,” I gush, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “And so is this.”
As I return to my body, so does the cold. Eventually, I’m forced to stand up and gather my things, pulling my clothes on for warmth.
“Should we head back to the party?” I ask.
The sentient mistletoe and holly exchange glances again, a living plant connection that I’ll never truly understand.
“I think we’re gonna stay out here,” Holly finally says. “The party was great, but our kind of winter celebration is less holiday music and eggnog and more… well, this.”
I nod, understanding completely. “I’d stay if I could. It’s a little too cold for humans though.”
“I know,” she replies.
I hesitate. “Would you two like to meet up when it gets a little warmer?” I finally question. “Mistletoe and holly are associated with Christmas, but at the end of the day, you’re just plants.”
I catch myself.
“I mean, you’re not just plants,” I clarify.
“We get it,” Holly retorts with a smile.
Mick finally chimes in. “We’d love to see you during the other seasons.”
I nod, ready to turn and head back to the party. Before I go, however, we come together for one last kiss.
“Thanks for keeping me warm,” I say.
