“Well, Mrs. Claus,” said Santa as he sank wearily into his armchair, “It’s only the eighth of July and we’ve finished making all the toys for all the children in the world already. By my count, that’s a record. The elves have certainly excelled themselves this year!”

“They certainly have, Santa,” exclaimed his wife, “And so, I think you’ll allow, have we.”

“That’s true. I’ve never worked harder in all my years. My sack is positively bulging this year.”

“Well, no wonder. It’s been quite a while since you took a trip down MY chimney, now that you mention it!”

“I hope you are suggesting what I think you are, Mrs. Claus, you naughty minx!”

With a twinkle in her eye, she nodded.

“Let’s get you out of your Christmas wrapping, Old Saint Nick!”

“It’ll be a pleasure, Mrs. Claus. These thick fur boots, thermal underwear and heavy red fur coat are all very well in the festive season, but in June they do become rather tiresome.”

“If you’d ask to be paid in cash, rather than mince pies and sherry, we could sneak down below and buy some summer gear. But you do insist…”

“Ho, ho, ho! It’s all for the love of the job, Mrs. Claus. Now, do you have a bedtime story to help me get going?”

“Yes!”

The couple undressed and lay down together on the bed. Santa, his belly wobbling like a bowlful of jelly, reached down and took his soft cock in his hand.

“Now,” said Mrs. Claus, “Many years ago, while you were away on Christmas night…”

“Someone delivered a present for you?!”

“Yes! My gentleman caller was a passing polar explorer, and he whisked me off to his tent. My gift was cylindrical, about seven inches long, and was finely wrapped. It was quite thick, too, a real yuletide log. At first, I mistook it for a candy cane. So, I put it in my mouth and sucked it hard…”

“Oh, Mrs. Claus! How did it taste?”

Santa was stroking his penis. He had not had a spontaneous erection for years, but dirty talk usually worked for him.

“Not as sweet as I’d expected, but not bad. It certainly got my saliva glands going. I pinched my gift between my lips and pushed it inwards until it reached the back of my throat. I gagged, and wrapped my tongue around the thing…”

At that, Santa felt his cock harden a little.

“His baubles were hanging low as he slipped his log into my fireplace, which was delightfully warm. My legs were pulled apart like a wishbone but, luckily, they never snapped.”

“Glad to hear it, Mrs. Claus,” said Santa, “Do go on, I’m nearly ready!”

And, indeed, his wife could see that his penis was now almost hard enough to take her.

“Like the annual turkey, it had to stay in the oven for a long time but, luckily, my gentleman caller was a generous gift giver. I was certainly not the first recipient of HIS North Pole.

‘Cum!’ he told me and, with a parampumpumpum, I did! Three minutes later, he deposited what I think was melted snow just beyond my bushy tree. It was certainly liquid, white and warm, I can tell you that!”

Santa was hard now, and he jumped onto his wife.

“I love you, Mrs. Claus,” said Santa as he entered his wife of three hundred years and began to move inside her.

“I love you too, Mr. Claus. Although,” she added, “I do occasionally enjoy a short holiday…”

“Ho, ho, ho! I know what you’re angling for, Mrs. Claus!”

“Oh, do let’s find a good party to go to! We had such fun that night!”

“We did indeed, my dear. After so many long, dull summer holidays, my only regret is that we hadn’t thought to go swinging before. I’ll saddle up the reindeer tomorrow night! Frankly, they could do with something else to keep them occupied during the post-toy-making season. The noises from that stable!”

“Well, you do encourage them, Santa. Do you not cry, every Christmas, ‘Come Dasher, Come Dancer, Come Vixen!’? They are very literal-minded, you know.”

Chuckling, Santa made love to his wife, and both closed their eyes and imagined the festivities to come the next evening.

*

“Open-minded, mature swingers welcome to join our party! Seven PM on the thirtieth of June. Ring door forty,” Mrs. Claus read from her mobile phone as the sleigh turned east towards New York.

“My goodness, Mr. Claus, what DID we use to do before the internet?”

“Yes. Sometimes I reminisce about my map reading days, trying to find obscure houses on paper and navigate whole cities from memory. I can’t deny that digital satellite navigation has certainly made MY job a lot easier.”

They landed the sleigh in Central Park and hobbled the reindeer at The Lake. Using the same invisibility spell that they employ every Christmas, the Clauses made their way unseen through the city to the apartment building listed in the advertisement.

“My goodness, Mrs. Claus, it is positively sweltering this evening. I rather regret coming in my work clothes.”

Santa mopped his brow and felt an unpleasant dampness growing beneath his suit.

At the door, they performed the counter-spell, which rendered themselves visible.

Santa knocked on the door.

A woman in her fifties opened it. Her grey hair was tied in a bun, and she wore a blouse and jeans.

“Hello! Warmest greetings of the summer season to you!” Santa boomed.

The lady looked them up and down, wide-eyed. Then, she burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, you guys came as Santa! Of all the darndest ideas! Everyone, come and see our new arrivals!”

Santa and his wife were ushered through to the adjoining room. Both were perspiring heavily in their suits.

There was a group of eight in the living room, four men and four women. All laughed when they saw the Clauses.

“I’ll sit on your knee…then I’ll spend some time on my knees!” cried one woman.

“I’ve been a very, very bad girl this year, Santa!” laughed another.

“You are married, right? You’ve both got the round-faced, jolly, rosy cheek look going on. I mean, you’re not…relative Clauses?!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Yes, this is my wife of…gosh, many years now!”

“And we’ve never regretted a moment of it!” said Mrs. Claus to warm smiles throughout the room. Her husband spoke,

“Except the time we thought it would be a good idea to spend the summer in Antarctica, and quite forgot it was winter there at the time. There was nothing huge and jolly about mini-Santa in THAT climate, let me tell you.”

“Now,” said the woman who had opened the door and who was, evidently, the hostess, “Let’s get this party started. All the gentlemen, even if you didn’t do the driving, drop your car keys into this bowl and then each lady will select their partner for the evening!”

Santa frowned. This presented a problem he had not anticipated, as they had come by sleigh. Thinking quickly, Mrs. Claus grabbed the whip that they used on the reindeer and stuck it awkwardly into the bowl of keys, where it promptly toppled over and fell out.

The hostess raised her eyebrow.

“Er, Mrs…Claus. I should remind everyone that, at this party, BDSM can only be administered with strict consent! Also, isn’t it rather obvious which marker is yours?”

“Which one of you is the subordinate Claus?” cried a man, laughing.

“Perhaps you could use our spare keys instead?” the hostess suggested. This was agreed to.

Mrs. Claus reached into the bowl and selected a large bunch of keys. A thin, balding man rose hesitantly to his feet, looking her over.

“Have you got a twelve-inch cracker for me to pull on, young man?” she asked flirtatiously.

“Well...it looks like you are in need of a bang, Mrs. Claus!” he said.

“Ho, ho, ho! She certainly is!” cried Father Christmas.

The hostess reached in and pulled out her own spare keys. Looking at Santa, she gave a smile.

“I’m Mary,” she said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Santa, but she’s no virgin after twenty years of marriage to me!” cried a partygoer.

“I should think not, kind Sir! But have no fear, I am very careful about my sexual elf. Your wife will be returned to you safely!”

“Surely you mean ‘sexual health’, Sir?”

“No, there’s a particularly randy employee of mine who…oh, never mind!"

All the matched couples headed off together. Santa, having been chosen by the hostess, found the master bedroom. He knocked.

“Come in, and know me better, man!” came the voice from behind the door.

When Father Christmas entered the bedroom, his present was waiting for him. Mary lay sprawled, legs akimbo and quite naked on the bed!

Moments later, his tongue was between her legs. Soon, she was breathing heavily.

“Oh my! Where did you learn such a lovely technique, Mr. Claus?”

“Since you ask, I’m elf-taught. Are you ready for a sausage roll, young lady?”

“Yes please, Mr. C!”

Santa undressed.

“I see your tree is well hung, even at this time of the year, Santa. Your wife is lucky. My husband is a Tiny Tim, I’m afraid.”

“Ho, ho, ho! Let’s get this turkey into the oven!”

He mounted her.

“Very good,” she said, “Now turn the knob…mmmm…delicious! Your stuffing is excellent!”

“Thank you! For my part, my nuts are positively roasting on your open thighs.”

“How long have you and your wife been swinging?”

“Oh, it’s very recent. For many years, I only came once a year, and that was down the chimney.”

She giggled, and the bed creaked as Santa pumped Mary.

“Fath…No, too weird. Santa Claus, you positively have me walking in the air!”

“Ho, ho…Oh no!”

Old Saint Nick shot his load into Mary. He collapsed, panting onto her body. He lay on top of her as his penis deflated. There was a long silence between them.

“I have a secret for you, Mary,” Santa Claus whispered, “This is how I feel every December the twenty-seventh.”

*

The revellers gradually emerged from the bedrooms and bathrooms and congregated, quite naked, in the lounge. Although none was in the flush of youth, they made a merry crew as they returned to their respective spouses, laughing and swapping tales of their exploits behind closed doors.

The Clauses were the first to leave. As they stood at the door, they cried out to the others,

“Be good to each other,

Share, and spread the good cheer,

And the spirit of Christmas,

Will be with you all through the year!”

“And God Bless Us, every one!” cried Mary’s husband, who may or may not have been known as Tiny Tim, as copyright laws would forbid me to name him as such, but who, irrespective of his name, was glad that his wife had discovered the true spirit of Christmas.