Santa Knows

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I couldn’t wait for the Christmas party to be over. All of my coworkers, now terribly drunk, had managed to make groping and sexual deviance into some kind of competitive sport. Once again, I realized how out of place I truly was. I was the youngest associate in our firm, so I spent most of my life striving to out-perform all of the buffoons who were now staggering around, sloshing egg nog across their disheveled clothes.

To be honest, I wasn’t annoyed by their behavior. I was frustrated by my own inability to join in.

My whole life, from childhood on, had been geared toward success. I went to an all-girls academy until college, where I kept my nose buried in books and excelled in my courses. Unfortunately, I failed miserably when it came to the opposite sex. As scholastic peers, I was completely comfortable with the boys I knew.

But as a potential date or lover?

Let’s just say that my best friend and roommate described my behavior as tragic. I was blessed with glossy blond hair, full lips, and a figure that made me look like I had modeled for pin-up magazines from the 1940s and 1950s. But when I was approached by a boy — or now, when I am approached by men my own age — I simply freeze up. I’m terrified that I will do the wrong thing and give myself away.

My secret: at 21, I am still a virgin.

I’ve always done everything well; in fact, I do everything almost perfectly. Unfortunately, what I don’t know about sex is enough to keep me from trying. What if I messed things up? What if I humiliated myself? I couldn’t bear it. Better not to try.

As a teenager, this was somewhat easier to endure. But a little bullet vibrator can only do so much to satisfy a girl, and what I most wanted was to find a man who would teach me how to do everything so that I could just get on with my life already. Sex tutors aren’t listed in the yellow pages, and the ones I managed to find online seemed more likely to be vice cops or serial killers than someone who could acquaint me with the mechanics of fucking.

A hand grabbed my arm and suddenly I found myself sitting in the lap of a man dressed as Santa. How ridiculous! I struggled to get up, but he held me in place. “Not until you tell me what you want for Christmas, Jessica.”

For just a moment, I almost blurted out that I needed someone to teach me about sex. Then I remembered that I was surrounded by coworkers and turned beet red. I stammered something about wanting the new Blackberry, and perhaps a Coach purse.

Santa held my gaze for several long moments. As his blue-gray eyes bored into mine, I could feel the blush spread from my cheeks down my throat to my chest. To my horror, I could feel my nipples harden and heat sizzled between us. I trembled as he murmured, “That’s not exactly the truth, is it? You want something much more than an electronic device.”

Coming to my senses, I scrambled to get off of his lap. He held me in place for one last moment, then promised: “You’ve been a good girl. You will get what you want. Just dress appropriately and wait for me by your chimney tonight.”

I fled the party and made my way home to my apartment. I tried to dismiss Santa’s comments, but instead kept wondering: How did he know my name was Jessica? And if he knew my poker oyna name, should I try to prepare myself for some kind of sex instructor to arrive via the North Pole Express tonight?

While the rational part of my mind was busy arguing against the likelihood of having my Christmas wishes fulfilled, I was busy getting ready. In less than an hour, I had showered, shaved every stray hair from my body, coated my skin with a bit of scented body oil, applied the sheerest amount of makeup, brushed my hair into its shiny best, and donned the skimpiest bra and panties set I owned. I curled up on the couch near my electric fireplace to wait and quickly fell asleep.

I was pulled from my dreams by knocking at my door. Bleary-eyed, I peeked through the peep hole into the blue-gray eyes I remembered from the party. Without a thought, I pulled open the door. We stared at each other for several seconds before he gasped, “You certainly are prepared!”

Only then did I remember that I was two lacy red tufts of lingerie away from fully naked. I turned to reach for a coat from the hooks near the entrance to my apartment and he grabbed my hand. Stepping into my home, he closed and locked the door behind us, then steered me to the full-length mirror in my entryway. He said, “Look at yourself. Look at how beautiful you truly are.”

I stared at the two of us in the mirror, my nearly naked body framed by the shapeless red suit the man behind me was wearing. His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me back against him. I could feel his cock hardening against my bottom, and his body’s reaction told me as much as his words did as he described what he saw:

“Lovely face,” as he brushed the white whiskers of his beard against my cheek.

“Long, elegant neck,” as his tongue licked and nibbled the delicate skin there.

“Glowing skin,” as he nipped my shoulder.

“Glorious tits,” as he yanked the cups down, fully baring my flesh for both of us to take in. My tits were so large they overflowed his grasping hands. He spent several moments caressing my sensitive breasts before squeezing my thick nipples. My back arched and I ground my ass against his erection. With a final tweak, he released my tits. They swung heavily back and forth as a low, jolly laugh sounded in my ears.

“Tiny waist and flared hips,” he continued, smoothing his fingers across my abdomen before beginning to roll the waistband of my panties downward. I quickly tugged them down my hips and kicked them off, only conscious of wanting him to have full access to my body.

“Gorgeous little pussy,” as his fingers traced the small tuft of blond hair at the top of my mound. The fingers of his left hand held open my pouting lips as his right index finger ventured into the deep, wet pink they concealed. First his index finger slipped into my virgin hole, then his middle and ring fingers began probing me, too. I was hot and slick and ready, pushing against his wonderful hand as his thumb settled firmly against my clit. Holding his right hand in place, he cupped and squeezed my pussy with his left hand, slowly and gently at first but with increasing vigor as I begged him for more. Waves of pleasure rippled across my every nerve ending. My mirrored self twitched and shuddered as Santa and I watched.

He canlı poker oyna said, “Let’s go to your bed and do this properly.”

Obediently, I led him into my bedroom, unfastening my bra and dropping it as I went. I was completely naked in front of a man for the first time, and I was also completely at ease. Santa sat at the edge of my bed, still in his red suit and boots. He didn’t undress, but simply unzipped his fly and freed his sizeable cock from his pants. “Put those pouty lips to good use, Jessica.”

I dropped to my knees in front of him, regarding his erection with something akin to wonder. I tentatively reached out with my hand and caressed him from tip to base, amazed by the velvet softness of his skin, how hot and hard, veiny and throbbing it was. Tentatively, I leaned forward and lapped at the minute amount of liquid coming from the tip of his cock. Marshmallows, oranges, peppermint, cocoa — a thousand Christmas flavors flooded my mouth.

My lips still on his cock, I looked up at him and smiled in delight. Santa brushed the hair away from my face, then urged me on by pressing against the back of my head. I was happy to oblige, trying to touch every part of him with my tongue as I worked to take more and more of him into my mouth. His cock bumped against my tonsils and I gagged for a moment before realizing I could let him all the way in simply by adjusting my position slightly. My nose nestled into the white nest of hair at the base of his shaft and I drooled and gurgled in triumph. To my surprise, he smelled like evergreens and holly.

With renewed urgency, I bobbed my head up and down, sucking and cooing slightly as I worked. My tongue flattened against his shaft, rippling slightly. Then I traced the underside of the little helmet at the top of his cock. I could hear Santa moaning, so I continued to stroke him with my tongue. I ran my right hand up the thigh of his suit, finding my way into the opening by touch. I cupped his balls, gently kneading and stroking as Santa pistoned his hips into my face. He pushed me back down as I felt his balls contract, and his gooey, delicious cum filled my throat.

I could swear he shouted “ho ho ho” as he came.

Giggling, I crawled up onto the bed next to him. Santa’s face was flushed, his eyes twinkling as he turned to me. He kissed my lips, my chin, my throat. Then his mouth settled on my breasts. He mashed them together with his hands as he suckled and bit my nipples. His whiskers scratched across my delicate skin and his teeth stung against my engorged tips, but the slight pain only intensified my longing for more.

He continued his path downward until he reached my aching cunt. He slapped my mound and my hips bucked wildly; seeing my response, he rolled me onto my stomach. Santa asked, “Want to know what happens to girls on my naughty list?”

I squirmed in delight. He brought his hand down against my upturned bottom, spanking me like a child. His hand cracked against my ass. I could feel my skin turn fiery pink as my pussy gushed juices down my thighs. Then he leaned forward and kissed each cheek before spreading my legs.

Santa’s whiskers tickled my inner thighs as his tongue speared into my aching cunt. He lapped at my wetness as if trying to drink all evidence of internet casino my excitement. He pinched my pussy lips, pulling me open even further. His tongue teased my clit, causing me to grind my hips down into the mattress. He centered his lips on that sensitive button, sucking and nipping my clit until I nearly lost all control of my body. I bucked and writhed, crying out as an orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I had no time to recover. Santa flipped me onto my back, urging my legs open as far as they could go. As if guided by Rudolph, the head of his cock breached the entrance to my pussy. It seemed impossibly tight, but he simply pushed forward and my body responded as if by magic, allowing him more and more access. I felt him pause against a barrier, then a shooting pain as he tore through my hymen. At the same time, his cock raked against my oversensitive clit. I involuntarily bucked against him and he sank even further, coming to rest as his balls brushed against my ass.

Santa pinned me to the mattress with his cock, holding me firmly in place as his hands roamed my body. He grabbed my hips and pulled me up and against him until he was deeper than I could imagine. I locked my legs around his waist, reveling in the feeling of fullness and completion. Santa cupped my tits briefly, then pinched and pulled at my nipples, bringing me to the edge yet again. Abruptly he grabbed my wrists, holding them above my head as he began to shift his hips in a circle, teasing me. Then the teasing ended. He withdrew almost entirely before slamming back into my pussy with the full force of his mammoth cock. I cried out in near ecstasy. One more stroke and I was lost yet again, pushing against his restraining hands as he pumped mercilessly into me. I moaned and wailed as he continued his onslaught. Then Santa stilled, and I felt a geyser erupt deep within.

Crushed under his weight, I savored the feeling of his cock slipping out of me. Our mixed juices dribbled out of my sore but satisfied pussy onto my thighs and bedspread. I pulled him to me, kissing him deeply. “Thank you for making my Christmas wish come true, Santa.”

He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling above flushed, round cheeks. He said, “Jessica, this was incredible. But I have to go now — it’s only a few days until Christmas, and there’s much to do. Could you do me one last favor?”

Obligingly, I knelt and cleaned him off with my tongue, amazed by how wonderful the remnants of our sex act tasted. I tucked him safely back inside his suit, then rocked back on my heels to gaze up at him. Santa chuckled, and with a wink and a nod, he disappeared.

When I woke up the next morning, I was filled with doubt. Had I dreamed that, or had I really spent the night fucking Santa? Doubt left me as I staggered to my feet, finding my lingerie in two rooms and an almost syrupy fluid dried on my thighs. My pussy felt tender and sore, but I was excited. A whole new chapter in my life had been opened by the man in the big red suit, and I couldn’t wait to enjoy it!

Just two days later, it was Christmas morning. As I made my way to my front door, arms laden with presents to deliver to my parents, siblings, and their children, I noticed an unfamiliar stocking hanging from my fireplace. Dropping everything, I rushed to see what Santa had left me.

A Coach bag.

A new Blackberry.

A riding crop with a note: “Get in some practice, so I can give you the REAL naughty girl treatment next December.”

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