As I sit here on a cold Christmas Eve rocking my twins to sleep, I have to tell you a story. This is the story of my experience a year ago this very night. Whether it was real, a dream or something in between, I will let you decide. I was a typical suburban mom, living in a typical small town, married to a typical man and living in a typical suburban home in the eastern United States. I was married to a man who earns a decent living trying to convince people to buy things that they could do without and values his precious career over anything or anyone. His idea of fun is golf with the important people while the two kids and I simply exist and try to enjoy being our own little family. He is proud of the three of us as possessions but rarely interacts with either the kids or me.
It all began as a normal American Christmas Eve. With a dying fire in the fireplace, my kids and I hung four brightly colored stockings on the mantel while sipping hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. My husband had just finished his ninth beer and was bitching about all the mess and noise that we were making. We placed milk and cookies out for Santa that the kids had meticulously decorated. I then cuddled up with my son and daughter in a quilt and began to read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.’ As Santa was saying “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” their little heads started nodding. Somewhere between ‘ma in her kerchief’ and ‘he looked like a peddler just opening his pack,’ my half-drunk husband had gone to bed. I surmised that I would be filling stockings and laying presents under the tree alone. I gently carried each of my preschoolers upstairs and tucked each one in as ‘visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.’ That thought made me giggle.
Then I put on my new silk Christmas nightgown, placed gifts around the tree, stuffed the stockings and slid into bed beside my great white whale. My only regret was that I had not been able to find the doll that my daughter so wanted and the superhero action figure that my son had his hopes set on. They each had only one item on their Christmas list and I had failed them both. The stores had been sold out for weeks and though I had reminded Moby Dick to get them, he had waited until it was too late. I couldn’t even find them online at a price that I could afford.
It was a quiet, still night with only lightly falling snow so everything was very quiet. Well, almost everything. Moby Dick, beside me, was performing his nightly ritual of farting, burping and snoring. What a pig. But least there were lulls in the acoustic bombardment that afforded me some degree of solace. It was during one of those lulls that I heard something downstairs. I waited for the next respite and then heard it again. It sounded like someone was in our house. I shook the lug beside me in an effort to get him to go check it out but that was a futile endeavor due to the six-pack and a half that he had downed.
I slipped out of bed and in the dark reached for the baseball bat in the corner of the closet. If I could help it, no one was going to steal what few things I had been able to afford for my kids. They were going to be disappointed already, but I was not going to let that turn tomorrow morning into the Christmas from hell by having no toys. I am usually not that bold but for some reason, I felt drawn to confront this intruder and protect my home and children.
I quietly walked down the hallway and then eased my way down the staircase until I was near enough to peak around the corner of the stairwell, across the dark living room and through the French door opening. Since the fire had not quite gone out, I saw the shadow of the thief. Being angry, protective and emboldened by some unknown force, I crept across the living room, staying in the shadows with my bat at the ready. By watching the shadow, I knew the thug was just around the edge of the French door opening. I stood at the ready with my weapon cocked. It was then that I noticed the shadow growing larger indicating that he was coming nearer.
Whether it was a conscious decision, an instinctive reaction or a nutmeg-induced, eggnog-fueled burst of courage, I swung with all my might. It was a nice level swing about three and a half feet off the ground intended to be a gut buster. In the majors, it might have been a home run. The bat struck its target with a thud. The target hit the ground with an equally loud thud.
I jumped around the corner ready to take a second swing and was rocked to my core. On the ground was the most petite little person that I had ever seen. She was maybe four feet tall, wore a tight little green dress, little pointed shoes and had gorgeous blond hair. Her forehead was crushed and in one look, it was obvious that I had just killed this little girl.
“What was a little girl doing in my house," I thought as panic started to envelop me. Then I noticed that she had breasts. She had hips. I had just killed a miniature woman.
I was shocked, crushed, confused and panicked. Suddenly, behind me came a shout, “You killed her. You killed my elf.”
I spun around and there before me was Santa Claus himself. Now I am a grown woman. I don’t believe in Santa. It wasn’t just his suit, it was his face, his demeanor and his spirit, which even in these dire circumstances seemed to warm me to my core.
I looked back toward the elf and her body magically disappeared in a cloud that I can only describe as fairy dust which spun around the room, up the chimney and out into the winter world. Lying on the floor was her quite unusual clothing and nothing else. I dropped the bat in disbelief of what I had just seen.
“Don’t look so shocked, Debbie. It is Christmas magic. She will live but only at the North Pole where Christmas magic comes from,” said Santa looking into my eyes. “It is Christmas Eve and someone has to take her place. It looks like you just volunteered. The toys have to be delivered and I have to have the help or many children will be disappointed.”
My mind was frantically searching for an excuse. “But Santa, I can’t. I have to stay here with the children. Plus there isn’t enough time to deliver all the toys.”
He just smiled. “Debbie. I stop time on Christmas Eve to deliver the toys. You have all the time in the world but it is your job to help. It is your fault after all.” He glanced at the spot where the elf dress now lay. “Plus, as a reward for your help, I will leave a life-size version of the doll that your daughter wants and a life-size version of the action figure that your son wants. I only have one of each and those are the only ones in the whole world.”
My mind said no but my heart said yes. The joy that would bring my kids would be my Christmas present. What else could I do? “Okay Santa, let’s go.”
“Not so fast dear. You are forgetting the Santa helpers' suit.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “I can’t fit in that.”
“But you have to cutie. The Christmas magic in the suit makes it possible for you to be my helper.”
I stared at him in disbelief and thought “Christmas magic? Really?” I could not, however, deny what I had just witnessed. I could also not fathom that I was talking to Santa Claus in my living room.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the suit and tried to make a quick change with that jolly old elf watching me. I stripped quickly, trying to be as modest as possible. I dropped the elf dress to the floor, stepped in and pulled it up over my hips. Or at least I tried to. My hips were certainly wider than the petite elf but after much effort pulled the dress to a skin-tight fit, only to discover another problem. I am five foot three inches tall. The elf may have been four feet tall if that much. I was going to have either my ass or my boobs exposed. I decided to at least cover my boobs. That didn’t work so well. I am a 35B or C. She may have been a 28A. I managed to coax the top enough to just barely cover my nipples. Doing so compressed my boobs together forming a bulging cleavage that impressed even me. I thought that I must get a dress that fits like this. It must have impressed Santa as well because I could almost swear the jolly old elf had something growing below that bowl full of jelly belly.
In a vain attempt at modesty, I grabbed her little red panties and forced them up over my hips. So much for fit. My considerably wider hips and more pronounced ass turned those red panties into red thongs. The bulge growing along Santa’s right leg expressed his growing approval. Surprisingly, the thong in the back was repeated in the front giving me a severe camel toe, which was at first uncomfortable but then put pressure on my clit making me instantly excited. The excitement grew with every move I made due to the friction on my clit.
After putting on some tan thigh-high stockings to keep my legs warm and the only matching heels that I own (cute four-inch heels), I asked, “Are we ready now?”
“Ho, ho, ho.” He grabbed my arm and with a wink of his eye, a nod of his head, and laying his finger beside his nose, up the chimney we rose.
Once on the roof, I got my first look at his gorgeous, antique sleigh and his team of nine famous reindeer led by Rudolph himself. They weren’t exactly tiny. They were quite large animals. They got their first look at me too. They obviously approved. I grew up on a farm and saw horses when they get horny. They have nothing on those reindeer. Their schlongs were at least eighteen inches long and thick as a man’s arm. The phrase should be changed from hung like a horse to hung like a reindeer.
Santa leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Watch out for Rudolph. I hear that he is a real animal!”
I climbed into the sleigh and we were off. Each time, landing smoothly on the roof and dropping down the chimney, dropping the toys, eating a cookie, drinking some milk, then back up the chimney and back in the sleigh. A few folks had left us a little spiked eggnog and one left us some brandy. On one such stop, Santa and I bumped into each other and he stole a quick kiss. It was the best kiss that I had ever had.
We had already left toys at two or three thousand houses when, in a particularly fancy home, we decided to sit down for a break. I told Santa that my chest was getting cold, which was obvious from my reddened nipples peeking out from my elf dress. As far as the rest of me goes, these panties had been pressing on my clit and this thong up my ass for so long that I was hot as hell below my belly button. I could have fucked a pogo stick. I just wanted to see his reaction to my perky nipples.
Santa drew me close and kissed me with the sweetest lips, I have ever known. His kiss tasted like nutmeg and roasted chestnuts. His tongue was like the sweetest candy and he held me like I was his prized possession. I was instantly in heaven. He moved his kisses down my neck to my chest, brushing my breasts with his soft beard. Continuing his downward trek, he released my breasts from their snug display case and licked his way to my reddened, inflamed nipples. He sucked my nipples in his mouth one after the other with such force that I was about to sing fa, la, la, la, la. I distinctly remember that his hair smelled like cinnamon. I was right on the edge of cumming just from him sucking my nipples when he pulled away and said, “Back to the sleigh.” Sexually frustrated, yet wanting more, up the chimney we went and back into the sleigh.
We repeated our deliveries for a few thousand more houses and then took yet another break. This time he started right where he left off. From there, he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling my hips forward and dove down to my inflamed pussy. He tongue fucked me with a tongue that must have been made of licorice. It was longer than my husband’s dick and four times as skillful. He could literally probe my insides and give me a clit massage at the same time. Damn, he was good. He sucked hard on my clit. He was literally sucking my pussy like he wanted to swallow it. I went over the edge. My legs quivered and shivers went through my body like lightning bolts in the night sky. He had a lively old tongue so lively and quick and as I was cumming, I screamed, “It must be St. Nick.” As quick as we had started, we were back on our way up the chimney to the sleigh. We had a schedule to keep.
A few thousand more homes and we came upon a giant log home, near the top of a mountain. After landing on the roof, dropping the toys and drinking the cup of moonshine that was left for us (which was particularly stimulating), I asked Santa if we could take a short break. He started to hesitate but I moved up close to him, grabbing his crotch and looked up at him with my big Bambi deer eyes. “Please.”
“Well, okay,” he said with a grin.
I dropped to my knees dragging his big furry pants with me. Underneath those furry pants, he wore no undershorts but that is not what caught my attention. Standing before my face was his erect eight-inch cock. It wasn’t just any cock. This one looked like a giant erotic candy cane. It was complete with red, twisted stripes wrapping around it making a quarter turn every half inch. The head of his cock looked like the chocolate and peanut butter buckeye candy that is made in the Midwest, except that it had the same red and white color as the rest of that beautiful cock. I don’t know if it was the woman in me wanting that big cock or the little girl in me wanting that candy cane. I took his cock in and made love to his cock with my mouth in every way that I could imagine.
Merry Christmas to me! That cock tasted like a candy cane. I swear on my life, the jolly ole elf was Christmas right down to his pecker. I took as much of that candy shaft in my throat as I could and devoured it like it was the candied cherry at the end of a milkshake straw. After about five minutes, my jaws were cramping and his cock was beginning to throb.
Then he said, “It is time for some Christmas magic. Watch this.”
He walked to the nearby table containing the plain sugar cookies that those upstairs nestled in their beds had left. Placing his cock just above the cookies, he began to milk his cock and cum on the cookies. Not spurting and splashing but rather masterfully decorating the cookies with a creamy white icing that looked like a gourmet chef had decorated the cookies. That was weird!
Then he said, “Taste them,” and handed me one of the dozen or so he had just decorated.
This night was so weird that I would have tried anything and I had long ago convinced myself that I was just dreaming so I should just enjoy it. I took one bite and was instantly in shock. Those cookies didn’t taste like sex. They tasted like normal sugar cookies with the best vanilla icing that has ever been made.
“Holy Jingle Bells!” I thought, “Santa shoots icing. What is next?”
Still in shock, he grabbed my wrist and whisked me up the chimney to the waiting sleigh. We finished the west coast and headed to Hawaii, which was our next to the last state to visit since the International Date Line lies to our west and was the origin of his long trip.
The warmth of Hawaii was an awesome contrast. We delivered toys to all the deserving kids and finished with the last house, which was the biggest house in all of Kauai. There we took a break by skinny-dipping in our host’s pool.
After our moonlight swim, we went back in to get dressed. With great difficulty, I slipped that skimpy elf outfit on again and once again donned my thong panty/pussy wedge combination. Santa came up behind me, grabbing my breasts and kissing my ears. He worked his way down my neck while placing his beautiful candy cane in between my butt cheeks. I got so hot that I could barely contain myself and started grinding him with extreme enthusiasm. We both were dry-humping each other into a terrible frenzy.
He quickly jerked my panties down and reached around fingering my pussy with one hand while pinching my nipples with the other and tongue fucking my ear. Just as I went over the edge and began squirting all over his hand and the floor, he stuck the first inch of his cock in my ass and shot spurt after spurt into me for what seemed like an eternity. He then pulled his hand from my dripping pussy and touched them to my lips.
“Taste,” he said.
I did and my juices tasted just like hot chocolate with marshmallows. I looked at him quizzically.
“It is the Christmas Magic,” is all that he said as he pulled my panties back up, swung me around and kissed me. Mmm! Cinnamon and eggnog again. My two favorite flavors, but I am adding hot chocolate to that list.
He grabbed my hand and we were off to Alaska and the last few hundred stops before heading home. Alaska was uneventful until the last house. There the owners had left five dozen fresh baked sugar cookies in the kitchen which by now were thoroughly cooled. As a special present, my jolly elf and Christmas lover iced them all with the special sugar from his special candy cane and left them for our hosts to enjoy. I will never look at another Christmas cookie the same way again.
We jumped back in the sleigh and headed north rather than back south towards my home.
“Santa,” I asked. “Aren’t we going back to take me home? My kids will be getting up soon.”
“Debbie, time is frozen. We have to go get the toys for your kids. They are at the North Pole in my workshop.”
So off we went, past the northern lights, until we reached a large flat sheet of ice at the top of the world. As we got nearer, a large section of the ice opened up and we flew straight down into it, right into the center of North Pole Village.
As we landed we were instantly surrounded by hundreds of cheering elves. One, in particular, seemed to be the one in charge and Santa spoke something to him in elfish and then turned toward me.
“I told him to go get the toys for your kids and load them in the sleigh. Meanwhile would like a quick tour,” spoke the Jolly Old Elf as he grabbed my hand.
He helped me out of the sleigh and we started walking toward the entrance of the biggest and grandest house that I had ever seen. It looked like a candy mansion with multiple chimneys jutting out from multiple places. It had to be thousands of square feet and each window had a single candle, lit and flickering.
My outfit was catching the attention of most, if not all of the elves. It was exactly like what each of the female elves was wearing, except that theirs fit much better. The girls were whispering amongst themselves and my girls (my boobs) were as erect as they had ever been at the thought of so many people seeing them. No doubt, my B, almost C, cups were the largest that they had seen. The male elves wore matching green outfits with green tights that didn’t leave much to the imagination. They were just staring with mouths hanging open. They must have been pleased because there was a three-inch-long bulge in each of those tights.
We went inside and toured the most massive toy factory that I had ever seen. Every type of toy that I had ever imagined was in that workshop. Santa’s office was just as impressive. It was huge with pictures of toys from generations past. Most impressive, though, was the house. It was a mix of Victorian and French country with an old-world frontier feel thrown in for good measure. It was the most comfortable, warm and welcoming place that I had ever seen. The kitchen was massive, warm and friendly and the dining room was right out of a Norm Rockwell painting. It was the kind of place that every family should gather in for Christmas dinner. Soft music rang throughout the entire mansion.
A little girl elf came in and asked if she could clean our clothes after a long hard night’s work.
“Sure,” said Santa, “We will hand them to you in a little bit. Come on Debbie, let’s go change out of these.”
He led me to the upper room of the house, which was obviously his bedroom. The room was massive with twelve-foot high ceilings and a six-foot wide fireplace highlighted with a roaring and crackling fire. Here Comes Santa Claus was playing in the background. The room had antique furnishings of every type and a bed that was at least as large as two normal king-size beds, laden with layers of handmade quilts.
I asked if there was a place that I could change, to which he didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he grabbed me and gave me a familiar nutmeg and chestnut kiss. That kiss, along with having been an exhibitionist for elves, my stimulating panties, the grandeur of the home and the warmth of the massive fireplace in his room, filled me with desire for the ultimate pleasure with Mr. St. Nick. I dropped that dress and panties and stood before Santa totally nude with moisture running down my legs from my throbbing pussy.
He shed his coat and boots then dropped his furry pants. To my surprise, his fully erect candy cane cock was now at least twelve inches in length and bigger around than my arm.
“How….” I managed to get out before he cut me off.
“It is Christmas magic. The closer we are to the North Pole, the more magic there is,” he proclaimed.
Still in a state of shock, he swept me off my feet and carried me to his bed. We kissed just briefly before he spread my legs and moved over me with desire in his eyes. Too nervous to move and too turned on to resist, I just stared in his face as that massive candy cane contacted the lips of my soaked pussy. As he started to enter me, I gasped in shock and ecstasy. I didn't think that I could ever take anything that big. He drove the first eight inches in and then slowly, but steadily, started to fuck me like I had never been fucked.
It didn’t take long until I felt the head start to swell even larger if that was even possible. Then in one thrust, he drove the full twelve inches all the way into me pressing against my cervix. My orgasm was already in full swing with my legs shaking, my mind flashing, lightning ripping through my body and my pussy pulsing. I felt one, two, three then four spurts coming from his cane of ecstasy. He then withdrew about halfway and again rammed his candy stick all the way in and released the most massive flood of cum that I had ever imagined was even possible. It was like a flash flood being released inside me, splashing my cervix and flooding my whole body. Between the flash flood in my womb and the awe-inspiring orgasm that I was experiencing, I blacked out.
I awoke to “Mommy, mommy, let’s see what Santa brought.”
Being seemingly transported from one world to another, in an instant, it took me a minute to gather my senses. What a dream I had just had. It had seemed so real. The reality of that dream must have been why I felt so wet. I eased my hand between my legs and truly I was soaked. Pulling my fingers back up, I could not resist the temptation. I eased two fingers into my mouth. My goodness, I tasted like eggnog. I glanced at my nightstand and sitting beside we, on a bright red plate, were a dozen sugar cookies. Each cookie was perfectly round and each expertly decorated with vanilla icing. I wondered, “Was it a dream?”
After my kids practically drug me out of bed, I stumbled on tired and wobbly legs to the living room. Their dad had refused to rise from his slumber. To my surprise, there was one life-size version of the very doll that my daughter had wanted and one life-size version of the action figure that my son had asked for from the department store Santa. In addition, there were more toys in that living room of all various types and sizes than I had ever seen in my entire life.
As usual, my husband had not put anything in my stocking but in it, I found one clean and pressed elf suit and a tiny pair of red panties.
Well, that is my story. It was exactly one year ago tonight. I am sitting here with my son and daughter snuggly tucked in their beds as I rock their twin brother and sister to sleep. My two angels were born thirty-eight weeks after that night being delivered two weeks premature. As I get up to take them to bed, I notice the local newspaper lying open and a full page in bold letters. It simply says:
