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By Venus O'Hara
Here in Spain, the Holiday season is very different from the British New Year I grew up with where getting wasted and kissing strangers was the norm. Instead, the Spaniards celebrate by eating 12 grapes at midnight. One with each chime to welcome the new year and bring good luck.
Whether I was celebrating at a dinner party or a house party, the ritual was the same. The TV would be switched on just before midnight. There was a special New Year’s Eve programme showing the clock at Puerta del Sol in the centre of Madrid. When the big moment arrived, the whole of Spain proceeded to have their 12 grapes at the same time. The number of chimes was indicated on the TV screen, so you didn’t lose track of the grape count.
It may sound simple, but despite these more than obvious audiovisual cues, I messed it up nearly every time. By the end of the chimes, I realised that I had finished my grapes too soon or I had one grape left over. Needless to say, I often wondered if this meant that I would be doomed to a year of bad luck.
One year, however, I realised that I didn’t need grapes for good luck. So I decided it was time to start a tradition of my own.
I was seeing a guy who wasn’t a big fan of the grape guzzling tradition either. We were planning to celebrate the New Year with a homemade dinner at his place. I neglected to mention my great idea to him, as I thought it would have an even greater impact when the time came.
Although we weren’t planning on going out anywhere, I still dressed up for the occasion. I wore a black evening dress with no underwear. Well, except for some stockings and suspenders. I wore a big, winter coat over my ensemble and I walked to his place in the bitter cold. With every step, my cold naked thighs rubbed against each other. In contrast to the freezing temperatures, my Venusian nectar was on fire as I imagined what would happen when I arrived at my lover’s house.
I rang the intercom and went up in the lift to his penthouse apartment. The door was half open and I was welcomed by the aroma of homecooked vegetarian cuisine, the sound of classical music and candlelight. I could hear him pottering about in the kitchen.
I made my way there and found him stirring some vegetable soup. Without even saying ‘hello,’ he knelt down, lifted my skirt as if it was a veil on my wedding day and he was about to kiss the bride. But this was no wedding. Instead, he sniffed my vulva which was almost as hungry as I was.
He then proceeded to kiss my most intimate parts with a lingering peck and got up. He took my coat to hang it up and returned to the kitchen to take care of dinner. No words were needed. This was our ritual. I set the table and got ready to enjoy some delicious, healthy home-cooked food.
We ate and chatted like any of the other dinners we had shared before. Only this time, I had to keep an eye on the clock. After some organic chamomile tea to aid our digestion, we made our way to the sofa and soon enough, one thing led to another and he was ‘unveiling’ my skirt again in search of my throbbing clitoris.
I threw my head back and almost got carried away by his expert tongue-flicking. When it got to 11:45 pm, I pushed his head away.
‘Let’s put the TV on,’ I said.
‘I thought you didn’t want to do the 12 grapes’ he said, frowning with confusion.
‘I don’t. I have a much better idea.’ I replied with a mischievous twinkle in my eye.
He picked up the remote control and turned the TV on. The festive atmosphere was building up on the streets of Madrid, and every time they showed a close-up of the Spanish capital’s most famous clock, my heart started to race in anticipation.
I whipped my dress off and positioned myself on all fours in front of the TV: I conveniently left my stockings and suspenders on.
‘Fuck the 12 grapes! I want 12 thrusts instead!’ I exclaimed.
All of a sudden, he knelt down next to me and started kissing me passionately. By 11:58 pm, he was hard, condom-ed up and ready to go. I resumed my doggy-style position, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new year.
Ding! All of a sudden, I felt the tip of his penis enter me and then quickly withdraw. It took me by surprise, I can tell you.
Another deep thrust.
‘Happy New Year’! I gasped at the end. Or perhaps it was feliz año nuevo as they say in Spanish.
This time, all twelve thrusts were synchronised with each chime to perfection. Then we increased our pelvic momentum significantly until we were both able to enjoy our first orgasms of the year. We had certainly started the year with a bang. Quite literally.
Thanks to my orgasmic New Year’s Eve, I was sure that it was going to be a good one.