It was Christmas Eve, we had been out with friends, enjoying a good night, plenty of laughs and plenty of drink. Too much in the case of my other half as he had struggled up the stairs to bed somewhat the worse for wear. He would regret that in the morning as he had volunteered to cook Christmas lunch.
I decided I needed to chill a bit before hitting the sack so was quietly sitting in the living room reminiscing about Christmas’s past and what needed to be done in the morning before people arrived for lunch.
I was jolted out of my peaceful reverie by a loud noise overhead. Initially, I assumed it was my husband endeavouring to find the bathroom, but it sounded more of a grating sound and then the sound of bells jingling. Perhaps I’d had more to drink than I realised as it didn’t make any sense. Before I could get my thoughts together, I heard a whooshing sound, soot blowing out into the room as somebody or something came down the chimney.
I silently screamed and rubbed my eyes in disbelief trying to get myself back into the real world. Standing on the rug in front of the fireplace was a man. A man I sort of recognised from his outfit; dressed in a red suit, with white cuffs and a beard - there indeed was Santa Claus. Not quite the Santa I remembered from TV films I must admit!
This Santa was wearing a skintight red outfit with white fur trimmings leaving little to the imagination as to what was under the uniform (is uniform the right term?). Tall, chiselled, and packing, this one. I was speechless, but he started to explain he had many skills (not just getting down ridiculously tight chimneys) including telepathy and therefore he appeared as how anybody wanted to envisage him. Who the hell had wanted some Nordic looking Adonis to appear in a tight-fitting red outfit? I looked around the room but there was only me here so …..
I blushed and tried to keep lurid thoughts from my mind as my visitor watched me intently. Oh no, I can’t have him reading my thoughts, so I quickly looked away.
He apologised for the commotion up above as I could hear the reindeer moving restlessly about. I hoped their noise didn’t wake my husband as trying to explain the current situation would be beyond even my impressive bullshitting skills.
My streamlined visitor asked if there was anything I wanted for Christmas. I had to shut my eyes for fear of giving myself away. I needed a drink despite all the others I had consumed tonight. Miraculously a glass of red appeared in my right hand. Oh my god, this could not be real.
My guest moved over to join me on the sofa explaining he couldn’t stay too long as he had many other visits to make tonight, so he suggested giving me my present now. I looked under the Christmas tree where we had presents already gift wrapped for tomorrow.
‘Not those’” he said. “Yours is here”. I didn’t need to look I knew where he was pointing. He knew what I knew that he knew what I wanted (Is that right?)
It didn’t matter. I knew what he had brought me. Gift wrapped in those tight red trousers. Oh, so very tight. The present was clearly alive because it had grown impressively since he’d arrived. Perhaps it was due to the central heating or perhaps it was the sexily attired woman sitting on the sofa (well if I don’t big myself up not sure who else will).
“Ready when you are,” he said, clearly keen for me to get things moving, after all he was a busy man.
He stood up in front of me again, much closer now giving me a very close look at my present. I wonder what it could be. No, I didn’t. I knew what it was but didn’t remember putting it on my Christmas list. Probably understandable really my church going in-laws are unlikely to take too kindly to be seeing ‘life size Santa with a long thick cock’ as something from the list they would be buying me. Well, I don’t think so, but …. No, I was right first time.
I ran my hand across the front of his red trousers feeling the heat, the length, the girth. I always liked to do this with presents trying to guess what was inside, but I don’t think I ever got as excited (wet) as I was now in expectation of this present. I unbuttoned the trousers and eased the zip down. It shot out nearly hitting me in the eye. This was a night of learning – now we all know Santa doesn’t use underwear – who’d have thought it. He explained it was part of an efficiency drive. Over the course of Christmas Eve, he could visit another three (lucky) people because of the time saved in negotiating undergarments. You learn something new every day!
Anyway enough of Santa facts, on with exploring the present, my present. It was a beauty; long, thick and by the looks of things, very ready. It deserved a Christmas kiss and received one and lucky me was rewarded with a tiny pearl (of pre-cum). Oh, how lovely. Being a greedy girl, I wanted more, obviously, so spent the next couple of minutes trying to suck up anything that popped out of that rigid prick. I was going deeper now but there was still a good few inches before I reached the base. I was starting to feel the gag reflex kick in but it’s not every day you get to fellate Santa Claus, so it seemed churlish to complain. I was hoping my mascara would stand up to the test when my eyes began watering as he began pushing deeper seemingly searching for my oesophagus! Not had one this deep before so plenty of Christmas firsts. He had my head pinned against the back of the sofa so no escape, not that I wanted to escape.
I was giving his heavy balls a comforting squeeze but equally was also hoping he might want to make a deposit somewhere even more welcoming, if time permitted. He seemed to read my mind because just short of reaching his root he started to withdraw the length, first from my throat, then my mouth. I was a bit reluctant to release it so let my teeth graze him as it exited, and I could see faint scratch lines I left on the skin. To give him his due he didn’t complain but I did hear of couple of gasps when I went for a little bite.
As he stepped back, I saw he was still fully hard, and the drool (my drool) was hanging off the end of his cock. I went to move forward wanting to make it look pristine again, but he pushed me back onto the sofa.
He reached down and grabbed me behind the knees and pulled me forward so my arse was on the edge of the seat. He pushed my dress up above my stocking tops and held my legs open. I could feel the heat emanating from my pussy and he wasted little time in pulling the gusset of my knickers aside and focusing his aim at my wet opening. He was clearly a good shot because he hit the bullseye with his first attempt and slid a good few inches in before encountering any resistance. He withdrew an inch or two and then pushed harder to make more progress. The first few inches may have been easy, but it didn’t take him long to start finding virgin territory. It was tighter now but he was a man on a mission and the movements in and out became more powerful and were breaking new territory with each thrust. I had been building up to a climax for a minute or so but when it came it completely overwhelmed me taking me over the edge and getting an energetic response from my new lover. No time to savour the blissful feeling or to get any semblance of a recovery. He was off driving for more responses, hammering his pelvis into my battered mound. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. I was now lolling on the sofa as he pulled me up by my legs before hammering back down into me. He was a strong guy and didn’t seem to slow at any stage. It was full on fucking; my ankles were now up by his ears, and he grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his full length.
I was totally under his control and as I looked up my body, I could see the indentations of his cock rippling into my stomach as he thrust and withdrew that girthy cock. Juice was splashing from my swollen slit every time he went in or out and I could see it running down my stomach and felt it running into my arse.
I think I came several more times but to be honest I was just trying to stay conscious as the blood was rushing to my head enhancing the experience even further but making me very light-headed. I was having the wind banged out of me on every ramming thrust but despite the untold damage he had to have already inflicted on my pussy I still felt the sensation of him twitch a couple of times and then vaguely heard him ask, ‘Where?” I don’t know if I answered or not, but he did as I wanted and continued to piston me up and down on his shaft a few more times before exploding inside me. It felt like the 1812 Overture cannons going off.
Jeez, what a fuck, what a Christmas present!
He held me there fully impaled as he pulsed away inside me before eventually letting me slide off his greasy pole and gently dropped me to the floor with my head and shoulders still draped across the sofa. The cannons were still going off inside my battered pussy and fluid was already beginning to pool on the floor. I quickly moved my knickers back in place to partially stem the tide and somehow struggled back fully onto the sofa. Santa was already nearly back in full garb. He had used a throw on the sofa to wipe the length of his cock (don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit on that again without thinking of this experience). He tucked his still semi-hard dick back in his trousers and zipped up his skintight top. He popped his hat back on (I didn’t even notice he wore a hat when he arrived, I think my focus was elsewhere!)
He bent down and gave me a lovely tender kiss exploring my mouth and me his. Oh, any chance of a second helping, I wondered.
“Thanks,” was all I could muster in terms of appreciation. It was difficult to put into words to describe the whole experience. I don’t suppose it had lasted very long but a bit like a tsunami I expected the aftershocks would be felt for a long time. He turned and in the blink of an eye had disappeared back up the chimney. A few minutes later I heard bells and the grating sound of the sleigh, so I assumed he was off to make another visit.
Stunned, I sat there for a few minutes not able to comprehend what the hell had happened. If felt like a dream but the soreness between my legs told me, I had indeed been ‘visited’.
The door opening behind me brought me back to reality as my husband stumbled into the room. I think it would be fair to say looking a lot the worse for wear.
“What the hell was all that noise about. Did you hear it?” he asked.
“What sort of noise,” I nervously asked.
“It sounded like someone was up on the roof,” he said.
Phew, I thought he might have heard something else.
“Just had Santa Claus cum to visit,” I said trying to keep the tremor and humour out of my voice.
“Yeah right,” he sneered. “I know I’m drunk but not that bloody drunk.’
“Well, he left me a lovely present and you’ve got one as well, if you want,” I don’t know how I kept a straight face.
He looked over at the Christmas tree in the corner but still looked confused.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go to bed and you can have your present before it goes cold.” I picked up a flask labelled ‘mulled wine’ left behind by my generous guest, took my husband’s hand and led him up the stairs to bed.
Every year since I’ve insisted on being home by midnight on Christmas Eve in the hope of a return visit but to date, I have been out of luck, but you never know. Maybe this year.
