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-While Frank was in the living room watching TV, Santa was in the den, making Merry!-
Was the Christmas of 1988 the season to be jolly?? For some, maybe, but I, Will Schreiber, was having a particularly bad day
How bad?? Well, I’d give it a 1.2 on the open ended HO-HO-HO scale.
My misery peaked just before my 3:30 pm break when the dishwater blonde came walking up to Santa’s chair pushing a third- generation hand-me-down stroller. Her cargo was one very unhappy little girl wearing red-rimmed eyes, a smudged jumper, and an ear-to-ear chocolate cookie.
“Now, you stop crying, Annie! Be a good girl and share your cookie with Santa. Then, you can tell Santa what you want for Christmas!” the disheveled young mother scolded as she plucked her bawling daughter from the baby buggy. Then, she handed the shrieking sprite another Oreo, and unceremoniously dumped all 35 pounds of terrified two-year old into my empty lap.
I forced my most syrupy-sweet smile and averted my gaze from the disgustingly-gummed cookie bobbing in a tiny fist just in front of my snout. Then, I placed my hand under the little girl’s chin and directed her tiny, teary-eyed gaze upward into my own.
“Do you have something to give to Santa, Annie?”
She did. She gave me an answer… in spades!!
“No-o-o-o… Mommy-y-y-y!!” she shrieked out as if she’d just been touched by the devil himself. Then, she proceeded to underscore the intensity of her terror by simultaneously drumming the heels of her toddling shoes on my testicles, jamming the slobber-softened Oreo into my right eye socket, and draining her precociously large bladder all over Santa’s jolly red suit!
Why is it, I ask you, that when terror and potty training meet head to head, terror always wins??
Ah, the indignities of unemployment compensation! When you get laid off from your technical writing job just before Christmas like I did, and you go in to collect your miniscule unemployment check, AND they see that you bear a natural resemblance to Old Saint Nick, what do you get??
I’ll tell you what you get… you get forced to take a job that nets you $5.85 an hour and all the free drool, urine, soggy cookies, and testicular trampling you could possibly want, THAT’S what you get!
Swear to God, if it hadn’t been for the Unemployment Department’s threats to cut off my benefits altogether for refusing to accept available work, yours truly would have been Jolly-Old-Elf history, right then and there!
Instead, it was a 20 minute coffee break and uniform change followed by a return for Round Three of my Thursday afternoon ordeal.
It was about 15 minutes into my shift that my holiday plans took a radical turn for the better!
It was the mid-afternoon lull and I hadn’t been mauled by a single snotty-nosed kid in five minutes. That was when Merry Ortiz swayed over from the Lingerie department.
I spotted her from 50 feet away! She was a 34-DDD if she was an inch!! You know the type… a little girl face and a body imported straight from the Valley of the Ultravixens??
Her incendiary good looks would have made Rudolph’s prick glow red instead of his nose!
Well, this provocatively miniskirted and highheeled vision walked straight up to Santa’s chair. She set down her bag of skimpy undergarments, lifted her miniskirt almost to hip level, and popped her pantyless posterior into my empty lap. Her intoxicating perfume enveloped my head in a warm pink cloud.
“Hi, Santa! I’m Merry!”
“Have you been a good little girl, Merry??’ I managed to mumble in a strangulated voice as her taut asscheeks squirmed and ground my rigidified pecker downward into my crotch – it was like trying to talk while your doctor checks for hernias by shoving his finger up your scrotum and telling you to cough!
“No… I haven’t,” she tittered self-indulgently, throwing her arm around my neck and pressing her horrendously huge hooters up against my fake white beard – her mega-mammaries were the diameter of a pair of twin cantaloupes that were suffering from a very serious glandular imbalance. And on a 5’2″ tall body, they were… well… memorable.
“Does it really matter, Santa… that I haven’t been a good girl, I mean?”
“Not really, I guess…”
“Good!! Then I’m going to tell you my Christmas wish!”
As she brought her pouting lips to my ear and shared her holiday secret, her sweet little-girl voice reminded me of the movie, Something Wild. It was the scene where Melanie Griffith has Jeff Daniels handcuffed to the bed and taunts him by thrusting her naked titties in his face!
“I’d like something very special this year, Santa!” she cooed. “I’d like you to drop in on Christmas morning and fuck me on the carpet, in front of the Christmas tree!”
Well, sir, you can bet that THAT Christmas wish took the curl out of old Santa’s candy cane! But, unfortunately, the Christmas wish-teller didn’t stick around long enough for old Will to lay his Claus on her!
Instead, her message delivered, Merry tantalizingly casino oyna squirmed her hot little butt against my fossilized pecker and thrust a pink envelope into the patch pocket of my red suit. Then, she grabbed up her bagful of lingerie and departed as suddenly and mysteriously as she’d arrived. It was a departure that left Santa alone with a stiffened candy cane and a damp fragrant spot to define where her pussy had rested on his trouserleg.
I can tell you that as soon as my peter lost its tell-tale, trouser-tenting, petrification and the nearby sales clerks stopped gawking, I hustled to the mens’ John, eager to discover the written details of Merry’s obscene offer.
Her three-page note was printed in crayon and illustrated on the front with a roughly drawn stick figure of a bearded guy in a red suit. There was this immense prick sticking out of his fly and she had written across the top of the page, “This is what I want for Christmas” with an arrow pointing downward to the head of that behemoth boner.
The note itself was crudely hand-printed to mimic the writing style of a first grader.
I’ve been a bad girl!! I’ve tried to be a good girl all year, but Daddy won’t let me!! He makes me wear hardly any clothes and do naughty things with other men while he watches.
Now he says he wants me to give you a private sex show, Santa, and then let you put your big hard candy cane into my tight little pussy and fuck me until you fill my hole with a creamy holiday load!
If you’re interested, please call my husband, Frank Ortiz, at xxx-xxxx to arrange the details.
Your Sexy Holiday Elf
Geezus, what an easy decision THAT was to make… having one of the most beautiful women I’d seen in years ask me to come fuck her and knowing that it was okay with her old man!
Well, I called Frank as soon as I got home that evening. It turned out the guy tends bar at El Morocco, that ritzy place down near the corner of 10th and Wilson.
I told Frank that I’d be honest and admit that I’d never fucked for an audience before, but with a gorgeous gal like Merry laying in wait for me, I was pretty sure I could overcome my shyness!
As it turned out, Frank wasn’t even going to be in the room. He just laughed and said, “Not to worry, Will, I have a remote- controlled video camera that’ll be set up on a tripod in the den with you and Merry. I’ll just run the video cable into the livingroom and catch the action on the projection TV! Swear to gawd, the two of you won’t even know that I’m in the house!”
Frank also encouraged me to wear a pair of those mirrored reflective sunglasses. He said it would make the scene more exciting for him! Hey, with a choice fuck like his wife available to me, I’d have painted my prong with pink polka dots if he asked me to!
Well, Christmas Eve fell two days later on Saturday and I only had to put in half a day in the department store. I also didn’t have to return my Santa uniforms until Tuesday.
It was a perfect setup for my Christmas morning “odd job”!
I had to fight the crowds of late shoppers in four different department stores to finally locate a pair of mirrored Ray-Bans, but by the time the radio and TV stations had switched over to holiday programming that evening, I’d already trimmed and waxed my mustache, spit-shined my boots, and laid out my clean Santa suit on the livingroom couch.
Come bedtime, I had as much trouble falling asleep as I’d had at the age of eight! But, the images that were dancing in my head sure as hell weren’t of sugarplums!!
The morning found me lying wide awake at 6 a.m., similarly excited. Any question of being able to fall back asleep soon disappeared from my thoughts so I got up, chucked a tape in the VCR, and watched about 45 minutes of a European XXX-rated video to help get me into the spirit of Christmas Present!
My watch was reading about 7:55 when I spotted the mailbox that said “Ortiz” on it. “Not a bad little spread for a bank president, let alone a bartender!”, I thought to myself as I ogled the sprawling ranch-style home in one of the most expensive parts of town. “Hell, this isn’t a house, it’s an estate!”
I pulled my beater Ford station wagon into their driveway and parked it beside the pair of silver and gold, his-and-hers Mercedes.
For about the fifth time since I’d met Merry and talked to Frank, I had the nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true… that I’d awaken any second shouting a “Bah, Humbug!” and find that the whole thing was just a perverse wet dream concocted by the Spirit of Christmas Future.
“Hi, Santa!!” My train of thought was derailed by that same exciting little girl voice that I’d heard in Brinkmann’s Department Store.
I turned to see Merry standing in the half opened front door, one arm lifted up and braced against the doorjamb above her head. With that little red Santa hat on, she looked like a cross between Mae West and a 22-year-old Mrs. Claus eagerly waiting for her old man to canlı casino return from his Christmas rounds and cum down HER chimney.
Merry’s sexy outfit was clearly a seasonal special that Mr. Frederick had designed in his Hollywood studios after having an XXXmas wet dream! She wore a red and white, candy-striped Merry Widow corset that covered her voluptuous figure from crotch level to just below her bulging breasts. The corset’s tear-away cups had been removed to allow both bulbous behemoths to jut from her tiny ribcage like cantilevered turgid-capped torpedoes; their blood-engorged tips protuberated in ripe invitation for prolonged sucking.
Down below, her long lithe dancer’s gams were ensheathed in a delicately lacy pair of beige patterned hose and her small feet slipped into tiny red patent leather stilt-heeled pumps.
“Come on in, silly!” she giggled. “It’s time to open the presents!” She stepped to the side of the door and made a sweeping arm gesture that invited me inside.
The party was about to begin!
As we entered the spacious den, it turned out that what Frank had told me about video cameras was true. The only surprise was that he’d said there would be one camera and it turned out that there were two. They were positioned with one directly in front of the tree and the other off to the side at right angles to the first. Their long video cables crossed the floor and disappeared down a hallway that I assumed led to the other room where Frank had said that he’d be watching.
“Geezus, this guy must be ambidextrous!” I thought as I heard small electric motors begin to whir and the two cameras simultaneously rotated and zoomed to capture our entry into the den.
Merry returned my attention to the here and now. “This is my biggest present!” she giggled like a seven-year-old. “I want to open it first!”
My eyes soaked in the sexy bump and sway of her big udders as she greedily tore into the silvery-ribboned gift-wrapped box.
“Ooo-o-oh… look!” she squealed in prepubescent excitement. “I bet this is just about the biggest candy cane that your elves ever made!
She extricated the monstrous confection from its cellophane wrapper. It was about a foot long and its blunted base was a good two inches in diameter. It must have weighed five pounds!
“Don’t you think it looks just like a big striped pee-pee, Santa? I’ll bet that if I…”
Merry never finished her sentence, she just plopped down on a Naugahyde armchair, kicked off her shoes and brought her heels up to rest on the chair arms, to either side of the seat cushion.
Her corset’s crotch snaps popped audibly as she unfastened them to bare her hairless, juice-bedewed puss. Her closely-shaven mound fit the scenario perfectly, being as bare and smooth as a baby’s bottom, just as if Merry really were the nymphette she feigned.
“M-m-m… Good!” she enthused throatily as she slid the candy cock between her richly carmined lips and began to rhythmically throat the last four or five inches of its striped shaft.
I felt like a real doofus, standing there gawking at her. My prick was visibly tenting the buttoned front of my scarlet trousers as she lowered the cane and eagerly applied its blunted head to the dark mysterious chink cleaving her pussy lips – it was like watching the Hindenburg preparing to enter a two-car garage.
Like my own eyeballs, the two cameras had simultaneously turned and were now focusing to witness the festive holiday deflowering.
Fortunately, Merry’s cunt was a good deal more capacious than it looked, easily inhaling first two… then four… then six inches of sweet sticky shaft as the room air became aromatic with a mixture of peppermint and sex musk.
With a substantial amount of prick-hard candy inserted up her cunt, Merry began to work the syrupy invader in and out of her crotch in long pumping strokes. Her muscular vaginal mouth clutched and worked at the thick invader like a toothless Pit Bull gumming an oversized rubber bone!
With all that stimulation, it didn’t take long before Merry lolled her head back, let out a protracted moan like a wounded timber wolf, and began to jerk her hips spastically in response to her first powerful orgasmic temblor.
By the time the sexy little minx removed the gooey curved barber pole from her cunt five minutes later, it was noticeably reduced in diameter and her crotch was awash from thigh to thigh in an inescapable sea of thick pink goo.
But, being an inveterate peppermint lover, I wasn’t about to let a little stickiness stand in my way!
I yanked off my phoney beard, knelt between her candied thighs, and went for her hot honeyhole like a hungry hound dog, licking and lathering her loins as the hot little bitch unleashed shrill yelps of pleasure and quivered through one intense orgasmic spasm after another.
The oral action finally paused after almost 20 pleasurable minutes and Merry handed me a damp washcloth to wipe the sweet pink foam from both her crotch and my face. As I was conducting kaçak casino the mop-up operations, the hot-blooded bimbette reached down to retrieve a small package from the floor beside the chair.
“Oh look, this one’s for you, Santa! It says – open me last!”
I thought I’d die laughing as I eagerly unwrapped the box and removed the French Tickler it contained! Swear to God, the tickler’s top end was an hollow rubber Santa Claus head… complete with a beard and a pointed red cap!
“O-o-o-h-h… here, let’s try it out!” Merry offered with her standard hot-to-trot eagerness. It took a little effort on her part, but after several tries she was finally able to stretch Santa’s bearded head over my dick’s counterpart. That finished, she leaned forward with her palms on the sofa arm and the tips of her mega-melons hovering hotly just above the backs of her hands.
She thrust her drooling, minty-fresh puss toward me. “Come and get it, Santy!” she taunted, wiggling her tight young buns provocatively.
As I moved up behind her, I could see our reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall to my right. We made a festive sight… me with my red trousers bunched around my ankles and Merry bent before me in her candy-striped corset.
Merry’s wide-footed stance left her peach-sized puss readily accessible for plundering. I grasped the shaft of my own substantial peppermint stick and levered it into position so that the tip of Saint Nicholas’ conical cap was hovering dead-center above the Merry’s peachy cleft! Then, I slowly applied forward pressure from my hips to drive my Parisian Santa’s head from sight into Merry’s slutty slit.
With my tickler-ensheathed hog already pumping her pulsating passageway and Santa’s fat red-capped head boldly going where no Merry Old Elf had gone before, I began to eagerly palm and heft the stolid masses of her twin torpedoes!
Merry’s turgid nipple-fingers felt like hot pokers against my palms and the darkened discs of mocha-colored tissue surrounding them were fully bloated with excitement as I cupped both udder ends in a palm grasp. Seizing each porcine nip tip between thumb and forefingers, I began to vigorously knead and massage them with my sluttish Santa’s-helper moaning loudly in response.
The sweet smell of peppermint filled my nostrils for several long minutes as I continued tweaking and twisting her stiff nipple tips and plumbing her cool, minty passageway using long rutting dick strokes that would have been the envy of Rudolph the Red-HOSED reindeer.
At the very end we reversed positions. Merry then removed the bounteously begoobered Santa from my dickhead and took the shaft of my hardened hog in a baseball-bat grip, beginning to deep throat it like the pro that I now realized her to be!
When she started loudly to hum “Here Comes Santy Claus” the vibration of her throat muscles was more than my pussy-punished peter could bear and I felt my nuts tightening and rising in anticipation of the Grand Finale.
Finally, as my orgasm came on like a rocket sled, Merry pulled her mouth away and began to aggressively frig my stiff cock with both hands, tightly closing her eyes and wantonly waving my festive flagpole in the general direction of her jiggling jugs.
At the exact Moment of Truth, the cum flew from my prick’s squirt-eye like a Komet, adorning her undulating udders with three thick gouts of sex soup – one dead center in Cleavage Canyon and one on the fatly nippled tip of each humongous hooter.
It was the hottest, longest lasting fuck I’d ever enjoyed… Christmas or not!
I can tell you that after those hot Christmas adventures in 1988, the following year’s holiday paled by comparison. I didn’t have to work as a Santa again, since I’d found a good writing job in mid-February, but the thought of playing Santa and making a second potential seduction crossed my mind quite a few times anyway.
I finally had to admit to myself that my “Merry” Christmas had been a one-in-a-million fluke and that it was time to move on with my life!!
I got most of my Christmas presents delivered on Saturday and dropped the last few off by noon on Sunday, Christmas Eve.
Since there was no M-E-R-R-Y in my Christmas, I decided I might as well settle in for a round of Christmas Eve fun and games with a M-A-R-Y of longer standing acquaintance, Mary Fivefingers; I stopped at Charlie’s Adult Bookstore down on Seventh Street to rent a couple of porno tapes.
“Nothin’ happnin’ for Christmas Eve, Will?” my old bespectacled friend, Charlie Hogan, piped up from behind the counter as I entered.
“Nothing! Nothing at all, Charlie! Gotten any good tapes in lately?”
“Sure have, guy! Check out the new Christmas tape from F-O Productions over in the amateur section. It’s got some big titted blonde bimbo fucking and sucking Old Saint Nick’s firehose right there in front of the Christmas tree! It’s HOT!! Sold nine damn tapes already this week!”
My stomach churned like it was filled with five pounds of festering figgy pudding as I nervously approached and scanned the shelves, finally spotting the tape that Charlie was talking about. It was one of more than 20 tapes from that same amateur video company… Frank Ortiz Productions.
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