It's hard being a divorced mum at Christmas time. And I don't just mean it's hard making ends meet and buying the presents. My boys, Troy and Kevin, weren't getting any socks and underwear under the tree. I know how to shop for teenagers. Troy is 17, and although I wasn't about to buy him that giant subwoofer he asked for, I knew he'd be happy with the iPod he'd find in his Christmas stocking. And Kevin, 13, was getting a new BMX bike...my only requirement being that he wear a helmet.
There are times, though, like late on Christmas Eve when I was trying to assemble that damn bike, that I wished I had a man around. Not because I can't handle a hex wrench, mind you, and besides, if that was all I needed I could have asked Troy for a hand. No, I just missed sharing the warmth of the holidays and the Christmas memories. And there's no reason I should be alone - I'm an attractive brunette with a nice figure, and at 41, I'm barely over the hill. But I always seem to hook up with losers.
There I was, adjusting the bike's seat and feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a rustling from the direction of the fireplace. The fire had gone out hours ago. When I went to investigate, I found sooty footprints leading to the kitchen. Did someone break in? I wielded the fireplace poker and followed the trail. As I peered round the corner I was shocked to see a guy in a Santa suit standing in my kitchen, pouring a glass of milk. I was so stunned I couldn't even answer when he asked me where the cookies were.
He laughed and said, "Don't look so surprised to see me. I'm here to grant your Christmas wish."
"Oh, the boys don't really need any more presents," I started to say.
"It's not for the children," he replied, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I'm here to grant your Christmas wish, sugarplum. Look!" He grabbed his crotch, pulling tight the fabric of his red breeches and revealing the outline of an enormous schlong. "Santa's got a big package for you!"
I covered my mouth and tittered in embarrassment, but his warm smile and merry laugh put me at ease. I couldn't believe it - Santa was coming on to me! I allowed him to take my hand and lead me back into the living room.
He lowered himself into the La-Z-Boy, then patted his knee. "Why don't you come and sit on Santa's lap, dear, and tell him all about what you want for Christmas?"
I slid onto his lap and snuggled against his burly frame. I smelled fir needles and wood smoke as I leaned closer to whisper in his ear and tell him of all the secret longings I'd been holding inside. I hardly noticed that my robe had fallen open exposing most of my breasts, until I felt Santa's whiskers tickling my cleavage. I felt something else, too, rising like a Yule log pressing up against my thigh.
"Santa," I said, "Is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" I reached down and freed Santa's erection from his trousers, marveling at the shiny red bell-shaped head that glowed like Rudolph's nose. I slipped to the floor, caressing his magnificent staff and licking all along the shaft like a peppermint stick. I took the huge head in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, surprised to find that his precum tasted just like eggnog. "Sweet baby Jesus," Santa moaned, as I gently squeezed his furry ball sack.
I threw off my robe and spread myself invitingly across the couch, eager to feel that monster cock inside me. "Santa," I said, "I've been such a good girl...can I have my present now?" Santa was happy to oblige, but we soon found his round belly was getting in the way. I turned over and got on all fours, and Santa entered me from behind. I couldn't help but groan loudly as I felt his massive cock filling me up.
"Oh my gosh! I hope the boys didn't hear that," I gasped.
"Don't worry," said Santa. "They're fast asleep till morning." And with that he began to ride me like a team of reindeer, plowing his meat deeper into my hungry, wet pussy. "On Dasher!" he yelled, "On Prancer, on Vixen!"
I thrust back furiously against him, going faster and faster with each and every thrust he took forward. Grabbing my breasts, I was pushed even deeper onto his huge cock. I moaned louder and louder as I felt my own pleasure rising to a peak. The sounds of Santa's moaning and deep breathing making me thrust back faster and fast. Just as I was reaching my climax, Santa grabbed my hips and rammed himself in to the hilt, letting loose with a blast of hot cream in my cunt and a lusty, "Ho, ho, ho!" We collapsed, spent, on the couch, with Santa's huge cock softening inside of me, and I drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace.
I woke up Christmas morning on the couch, alone, with a fleece throw tucked around me. I could hear the boys starting to stir in their bedrooms in the other part of the house. Gee, I thought, what a strange dream. Reaching down to close my robe, I felt some wetness between my legs. I touched myself and then, out of curiosity, brought my finger to my lips. Eggnog!
A taste I'll always enjoy at christmas.
