'Christmas, snowman, Santa, presents, baubles, sleigh, reindeer, crackers, stocking, pudding.'

Dr. Wichser held up each picture one by one, taking notes after Penny had looked at them. This confirmed his suspicion: it was the reading of the words or hearing them spoken that triggered a reaction in her, not the visual interpretation of the images.

"That's quite unusual and, I imagine, socially challenging," the doctor said to Penny in a sympathetic tone.

Dr. Wichser looked at the words Penny had identified as triggering a climax whenever she heard them spoken or saw them written. Isolating herself when the hype began as early as it did would turn her into a recluse for three months a year at least. The doctor knew this wasn't the answer.

If anyone could come up with a solution, German speakers always felt Dr. Wichser would be their man. 'Wanker' wasn't an unusual name, but having the German term equating to it as a surname gave the man notoriety stretching far beyond his professional expertise.

Penny listened to Dr. Wichser as he calmly began to say the ten words she had identified. A snowman brought her to a climax quickly on her first try. On the second reading, Santa had her moaning and writhing in her chair. Penny was very focused on attempt three, so she felt dejected when the word 'Christmas' sent her mind into disarray and her fingers into her knickers.

"Maybe I need someone to fuck this out of me," Penny said in desperation.

"I know just the man," Dr. Wichser said, bringing up the number he needed on his phone.

"Look, I know it's your busy time, mate, but let your elves take up the slack for a bit. Once she's made your beard as soppy as a chick flick and your face as red as your coat, you'll buy me a pint and call me a hero," Dr. Wichser pleaded.

"OK, I'll do it; a couple of reindeer can mind the shop for a bit," Santa said, packing his crotchless red trousers into his flight bag, hoping the lost power wouldn't slow him down. Santa also kept his fingers crossed that Dancer wouldn't demand that he stop the sleigh so that the reindeer could have a dump every five minutes, too.

Air traffic control staff were diamond geezers, and the mercy mission was on schedule. Penny was a little surprised to see a bearded bloke wander into the room, but when he pulled out his cock and showed her the tattoo that said 'the real Santa' on it, everything made sense.

Santa got into his stride, calling out each of Penny's trigger words as he did the deed. Some say they don't give a fuck about Christmas, but the man himself had ten to dish out, so he certainly gave plenty.

One by one, Santa replaced the bogus climax triggers with an authentic North Pole knobbing. It was a proper challenge, but with 'no holes barred,' it was the best badly spelt wrestling match ever.

Penny thought asking Christmas to come ten times in a night rather than once a year was a tall order, but the big man was on top form, and he knew the fakes would be calling a taxi home when he was just getting into his stride.

"Santa, put your Claus in me," Penny cried, hearing his bells jingling as they smacked into her.

"Leave the funnies to me, love," Santa replied as he sprinkled some antler dust on his cock and said a spell a wizard had taught him when they'd done pantomime together the previous year.

"Knock, knock, make my cock rock," Santa said with a Shakespearean flourish.

Santa rattled through the list as if his sleigh was in danger of a parking ticket, and the North Pole knobbing count rose. Luckily, Santa's sausage also did, each time it was called upon to free another word from the ten required.

Ringing the changes, Santa went for some back-end boogie next, and Penny was in her element. Naughty or nice never made sense to her, but naughty and nice certainly did.

Penny would only know for sure if the Santa therapy had worked once his deeds were done, but the dream was still alive. With magic and pantomime wizards on his team, Penny felt Santa could pull it off ( although she hoped he wouldn't be as wasteful with his seasonal sauce as that.)

Penny's next port of call on her therapeutic voyage was top-to-toe with the red-suited rogering master. Once the pair of them got cracking, it was like a testing station in the vacuum factory. Rudolf's red nose would have looked dull compared to Penny's flushed cheeks if he hadn't sloped off for a cigarette and got collared by some drunks who thought he was their mate in fancy dress.

Papa Crimbo, as the man in red called himself when trying to sound suave, was keen to get started on the meal deal with Penny, and she was hungry for some Papa pork, too.

Penny had noticed her anxiety levels dropping gradually with each stage of her therapy, and Papa Crimbo's pork sword slipped down easily. The festive fornicator's lips felt as if they would suck her up into them entirely, to Penny. This would've probably killed the moment for her had it happened, so it was just as well that it didn't.

The searches for Santa's sauce and Papa Crimbo's Penny-pinching puckering were wild, loud, and messy episodes. Penny could feel Santa trembling, and she was on the brink too.

"We're going to come together," Santa gasped as he popped his milky present under Penny's tree.

"I ho-ho-hope so," Penny replied, and they did, as Santa got a taste of things to cum that she had just done.

Penny had lost the ability to breathe, never mind count, but she felt an aura that suggested she had reached the last step. One last hurdle and she would've emptied Santa's sack of its treatment.

Santa had counted carefully, and, like Penny, he knew number ten was next up. In life, anything positive can see a wanker wade in and spoil the party, but in this case, it was a German one, as Dr. Wichser popped in to see how it was all going.

"Nine down, one to go, doc," Santa advised the doctor as Penny waited impatiently.

"I'll let you get cracking, but the last dose is the most important in this type of therapy, so make sure it's a right seeing-to," Dr. Wichser said, apologising for straying into complex medical terminology immediately after.

As Santa had a sneaky pickled egg, Penny saw two elves walk up to him.

"We're here to help bring the show to an end. 'Triple-decker ride time!" the elves said as one.

Santa bagged the tradesman's entrance; Elf One got to the front porch, and Elf Two was upstairs on mouth duty.

"Let's goooooo!" the pleasing posse shouted together.

A romantic, sweet, slow expression of tender love to the background of soft sounds of a lute being played in the background? No, not exactly.

Santa was well up for it, despite a hectic gift-giving shift. He was soon sinking his yule log into Penny's back garden as the elves looked after her front porch and first-floor storage room. Penny, meanwhile, was having a ball, even if it was the one on top of the elves' hats poking her unexpectedly from time to time in the chaos.

Penny was beautifully aroused by the 'hole' experience. Her body shook and rang the elves' hat bells, and the big man was moving in and out of the back door as if he'd got stuck in the chimney after a mince pie marathon and was trying to break free.

"Oh come, all ye faithful," Penny cried as her body went into wild spasm. The faithful trio granted her wish simultaneously.

"Father fucking Christmas and the dynamic duo, you're beautiful," Penny screamed. She felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders, and it wasn't just Santa's arse.

"How did you say all that with your mouth full?" the upstairs elf asked.

"Fucking magic," Penny replied, her subsequent laughter sending a tide of Santa sauce up her nose.

Santa, the elves, and Dr. Wichser didn't hang around. It was getting very sticky underfoot, and the smell of reindeer shit from outside was making them feel queasy.

Penny also rushed outside. She got random strangers to talk about Christmas to her. Not a tingle. The last stranger she spoke to? She dragged him back home and got him to tidy the flat and remove the Santa sauce from the ceiling. She did give him a blowjob as a tip and had a cracker of a climax, to be fair, though.

Happy Christmas!