If I were asked what my favorite things in life are, Christmas would be close to the top of the list. I just love Christmas. I love everything about it. The smell of a real pine tree, the music in the stores, the fabulous decorations, and the whole festival mood is so enchanting. I usually start preparing a month before. I’ve been hand-making most of the ornaments and constructing a gingerbread house with my kids.

This Christmas is very special because my boys are four and six, and it could be the last Christmas they still believe in Santa. So… I've enlisted my husband Mark to play Santa this year. That is why we're here at the costume shop with him, trying on Santa costumes. However, with Mark’s attitude towards the holidays, he should be trying on an Ebenezer Scrooge outfit.

Annie's Costume shop caters to a more wealthy clientele, which we are unfortunately not. But, I know they have the very best. I saved all year, and I'll be damned if a high price and disgruntled husband were going to deter me from my plans.

“Excuse me, miss,” I asked the clerk.

“May I help you, ma'am?” she replied, with a friendly smile.

“Yes, you may. I'm Mrs. Lassiter, and my husband has been in the changing room for quite a while, trying on a Santa suit. I wonder if you could send in someone to check on him?”

“I will send one of the stock boys, but be advised the Santa suit takes a while to fit properly, with the beard, wig, and rubber belly to put on.” She motioned to a young man.

After what seemed like forever, there he was. It was marvelous—a hundred times better than I had ever imagined. I ran toward him, exclaiming, “Oh my goodness! This is perfect!” I threw my arms around him and kissed him through the white beard.

If there was ever a real Santa, he couldn't have looked any better than Mark. The suit looked very authentic. It was even smudged with charcoal, and the black boots had cracks in them, like they've been worn for years.

“You look perfect, Mr. Lassiter,” the clerk said, taking a flash picture for their customer promotion.

“I look like an idiot!” Mark replied.

“We’ll take it. Do you accept personal checks?” I asked.

“Yes ma'am, we do, with two forms of identification.”

“Mark, you go change, and be careful taking it off. I'll pay for it,” I instructed, opening my purse.

“The things I do for that woman,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard while walking toward the dressing rooms.

We stopped at a couple more stores on the way home. Mark was my pack mule in tow, carrying boxes and moaning about me spending his hard earned money. He actually should be proud of the way I don't charge things and keep us debt free. I'm very frugal almost all year, but there is something about Christmas that opens people's hearts… and wallets.

Before I go any further, I don't want to give the wrong impression about Mark. Except for his attitude about the holidays, he's a really great guy, a wonderful husband, provider, father, and soul mate. He's one of those guys girls look at and comment that all the good ones are taken.

Mark peeked between the arm-full of packages and asked, “Ginny, can we go home now? I have a brief that has to completed by Monday.”

“Yes dear, we are done shopping… for today.”

“Groan.”

On the way home, the traffic was jammed around the mall area, and we were moving at a crawl. Mark has absolutely no patience when it comes to the crowded Christmas shopping either. He compares shoppers to sharks at a feeding frenzy. I just think of it as part of the season—the joyous collective celebration of a wonderful time of year.

While waiting for the traffic light to change, Mark said, “Ginny, every year you kill yourself buying packages for others, cooking and baking, but when I ask you what you want, you always reply the same. So this year, I don't want to hear you say 'nothing'.”

“Okay, I won't say 'nothing'. In fact, there is something I truly want that only you can give me.”

“Great! And what might that be?”

“Hun, I'm twenty-nine this year, and think it's time for another child. I would love to have a little girl. You’ve got your boys, and I think our family would be complete if we gave them a little sister.”

“Sweetheart, I know you want another child, and you're a great mother, but now is a bad time for us. I'm in the middle of this merger. I need to focus on business right now.”

“Mark, that's just an excuse. You do realize that it's me that carries the child? I don't think you are the one that will look like a beached whale and have swollen ankles. Besides, by the time I deliver, this merger will be complete. Just remember how much you liked my breasts growing two cup sizes,” I snickered.

“Hmmm, yeah, I remember. That was a real perk. Okay, I'll see if Santa will give you what you want. Were you a good girl this year?” he asked, with a grin.

“I was a very good girl… But I can also be very, very bad, if you like,” I giggled.

"Ho-Ho-Ho! Santa is gonna pay you a visit very soon, but will you do me one favor, Hun.”

"Sure, anything.”

“Good. I want you to lose the whole thermometer thing this time. It's so pressured and kills the mood. You don't have any trouble conceiving, so just relax and it will happen.”

“Okay, okay, but… according to my records and daily chart, I'll be my most fertile on Christmas Eve.”

“Gawd, you don't quit.”

-oOo-

After three weeks of hard work, everything was coming together. Tomorrow was the big day. The lights were up outside. Packages were wrapped, cookies baked, and decorations were carefully placed. The tree this year was a Nobel with frosting and the computerized lights twinkled like a light show.

After putting the kids down early, I took a long, hot shower. Then, with my hair wrapped in a towel, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, that was just starting to clear from the steam, and studied myself. I cupped my breasts and thought that for being almost thirty, I've still got it. In fact, since little Billy was born, I was determined to get back into shape, which I did, spending many long arduous hours at the gym. 

Now, I'm the fittest of my whole life. Turning half way to my side, I noted how round and firm my butt was. Just to make Mark happy, I waxed myself. I wasn't used to being bare. I giggled when I looked at my reflection, thinking it made me look like a little girl.

Just as I planned, I tied a wide red ribbon around myself with the bow between my breasts. Then, I put on my terry cloth robe and presented myself to Mark. I stood in front of him and dropped the robe. I asked, “What do you think? You like?”

“You did it. I like! Come here and I'll show you how much. Let's get this baby making started.”

“I'm all yours, my big sexy Santa.

Open me first,” I grinned.

Just as he reached out and was about to pull the ribbon, there was a rapping at our bedroom door. “Mommy, I can't sleep.”

I looked at Mark sporting an erection and whispered, “Hun, I'll read to the boys until they doze off and be right back. Keep my place warm.”

“Not fair,” Mark whined.

I snugged up my robe and went to the boys' room. Then, I grabbed the Christmas poem and crawled into bed with them. Both Billy and little Mark were wide-eyed as I opened the children's book and started to read, “Twas the night before Christmas, and all though the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse…”

I woke up with both boys sleeping on me and looked at the clock. Oh, my God! I dozed off myself for over three hours. I knew Mark must be furious at me. I quietly slipped out of the bed and softly closed the door. I was about to return to the bedroom when I heard a rustling coming from down stairs. I crept down the steps softly in my bare feet. On the half-way landing, I saw a delightful scene. Santa was arranging the packages under the tree.

I was so delighted Mark had finally got with the program that I snuck up behind and threw my arms around him. He froze in place as I squeezed harder and said, “Thank you, Santa. I love you. You've made me the happiest woman in the world. Do you want me make you the happiest Santa ever.” I squeezed his crotch. 

“Uh-huh,” he replied, in a deep voice after a pause.

I dropped to my knees as he turned. I fumbled a bit with his button-down fly as he stood frozen in place. I finally released the monster. It sprung to life in its full majesty, bouncing in my face. Mark must be really worked up, as both his length and girth seemed bigger than I'd ever seen it.

I licked the pre-cum off the tip and then engulfed it, forcing the stiffness down my throat. He bucked his hips, shoving it in even deeper. Through the years, I've learned to suppress my gag reflex. Tonight, however, he was so engorged, that he really tested my self-control.

I used my oral skills to excite him to where he was very close to going over the edge, but pulled away before he released his precious payload. I wasn't going to waste a single sperm.

Then, I stood up and let my robe drop. I was standing in the moonlit living room with only the wide, shimmering red ribbon covering me. It seemed almost fluorescent in the cascading light.

“Okay Santa, time to open your package,” I whispered, thrusting my chest and big red bow forward.

He reached out with a trembling, mittened hand and gently pulled the ribbon. It fell away, floating to the floor. There was a just a simple utterance of, “Hmmmm,” as my breasts bounced free, and my nipples jutted out, hard and inviting.

There are times when I'm so delighted to be a woman. This was one of them. My special Santa was shaking like a boy. It was worth every dime of that costume rental.

“Well? Don't just stand there gawking, kiss them.” He bent and licked each one, taking turns. I don't know if it was the moment or the silky white beard, but this felt better than ever before, especially the way he swirled his tongue in circles.

“Oh my God, that feels wonderful,” I panted, softly. I’d never been so wet and ready. This was perfect! I was going to get my present in front of the Christmas tree.

"Okay, my big Santa, time to give me my gift, and make sure it's a girl,” I said, as I turned and knelt on the couch, placing my elbows on the top of the back, jutting my butt out.

I waited, but nothing happened. Then, I prompted, “Come on, what are you waiting for? Fuck me… now!”

Then I heard him fumbling with his buckle and I felt his bare legs positioned behind me. That big belly felt so real—very believable. He stroked my vulva from behind with his cock head, coating himself with my abundance of juices. Then, he gently pushed in. It felt so good, like it was from heaven above.

He slowly pumped me with short strokes before plunging in to the hilt. Then, he pulled out and slammed it back in with such fury, he scooted the entire couch. It was… delicious. He pumped me like a piston, fast and steady. My entire nervous system was fully engaged responding to his every thrust. 

“Oh, my God! I'm coming. You're the best Santa ever,” I moaned, trying to keep my voice low.

Slap, slap, slap... He continued the assault on my wanton womanhood and I continued to orgasm. Then suddenly he stopped, and grunted in a deep, breathless voice, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas.”

As he pulled away the cum was pouring out of me and down my leg.

"Ho, ho, ho? Very funny. You straighten up. I'm going to bed. Don't forget to eat a few of the cookies and drink some of the milk, so the kids will think Santa was here. Thanks, my big, sexy Santa. It was wonderful. I walked past him, crunching a gingerbread cookie with crumbs on his beard. Half way up the stairs, I looked back and he waved at me with a milk glass in hand.

When I opened the bedroom door, I froze in place. My eyes must be deceiving me! The room was dark, but not so dark that I couldn't see and hear Mark snoring away in our bed. A cold, frightening chill ran down my spine. I was paralyzed with fear. A million thoughts flooded my head.

“Mark! Wake up!” I shook him. 

“Uhh? What's the matter?” he replied, half asleep.

“We have an intruder down stairs!”

“Don't worry, sweetheart. It's just my brother.”

“In the Santa Clause suit? Why didn't you say something?” I whispered, in a strained voice.

“I didn't want to wake you and the kids. He took an earlier flight. I told him he could sleep on the couch. We'll have one more plate for breakfast. No big deal. And don't be mad, but he volunteered to play Santa for the kids when he saw the costume.”

I stared at Mark in disbelief, searching for words to say. My thinking was almost panicked. Almost instantly I weighed my options. If I revealed what happened, it might cause a rift between brothers. And if I got pregnant, Mark would question if it was his child. I was really fucked, in more ways than one!

After a long silence, Mark said, "Come on, sweetheart, don't be mad that Gary asked to be Santa. Now come to bed. It's almost three.”

-oOo-

I couldn't sleep. Breakfast was uncomfortable, but the kids abundant joy eased the tension somewhat. They were delighted Santa was spending Christmas with us, but I couldn't make eye contact with Gary. After breakfast, I went in and did the dishes while they got ready to open the packages. I noticed my red ribbon was tied around the angel at the top of the tree.

Santa handed out the presents, to the boys' delight. He played the role so well, even I had to chuckle. However, my mind was never much further away than the thoughts of last night.

After the last package was opened, Mark said, “Sorry, Santa, we don't have a gift for you.”

“It's okay… I opened mine last night.” He winked, and grinned a sly smile.

The end

Thanks to Bethany Fraiser for final edit.