Santa Hotline

"What do you want for the holidays, young man?"

For a joke, I had decided to call one of the many Santa Hotlines.

"I want to be able to cum for hours at a time," I replied as nonchalantly as I possibly could.

"Well! That's a rather unique gift you want! Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Not 'Sir,' please. 'Santa' is good enough!"

"Yes, Santa."

"It sounds like you're about... I'd say, about twenty-five years old, right?"

"That's right."

"And you want to be able to cum for hours at a time?"

"Exactly, Si... um, Santa."

Santa laughed, a hearty laugh which only a jolly old soul could ever produce. It was a laugh which made me smile. "That's an unusual request, but I'll see what I can do!"

"Thank you, Santa."

*****

About three weeks later, on Christmas morning, I held my young wife as we stood before the tree, basking in the multicolored lights. Glancing through the parted curtains, I watched the snow falling almost horizontally, listened to the wind whipping around the small house. The various gifts surrounded us, as did the decimated gift wrap.

But by far, the greatest gift, wrapped in a pink terrycloth robe, was her. It was the fourth month of our marriage, and we were very much in love, very much enjoying our new lives, our new roles.

The love soon turned into foreplay, and the foreplay soon turned into lovemaking. As I lay upon the sofa, she rose and fell upon me, speaking to me with her eyes, calling to me with her soft gasps of desire. When her orgasm finally surged through her and washed over me, she fell upon me, shuddering, mewling sweetly into my neck as I stroked her hair and held her close.

"Your turn, honey," she finally whispered.

A few heartbeats later, my wife was bent over one end of the sofa, clutching one of the pillows to her chest as I entered her anew. Just as she liked, I used her hair as reins, and she responded in body and in voice. The sounds of our joining were a sweet melody to my ears; the sounds of her delight were the air filling my lungs.

A second, then a third, then a fourth, and even a fifth orgasm wracked her senses, yet I did not even feel close to my own release. I could not understand it, as I could rarely survive more than two of her climaxes before achieving my own. Somehow, the position we both enjoyed most was not working well for me on this particular occasion, and she was starting to feel a bit raw.

As if of one mind, I stepped back and disengaged from my wife, and she turned around to face me. Still upon her knees, she took me into her mouth and once again demonstrated her excellent fellatio skills. After a few minutes, I began to feel the tingling sensation which usually precedes a release, and I grabbed her hair in my fists, moving her head faster and faster, rutting into her mouth, my voice hard and heavy with need as she fondled my full testicles and moaned happily around my hardened manhood.

Typically, I prefer to unleash my love into my wife's body. This time, however, I withdrew from her mouth, stroking myself in front of her face as she looked up at me with absolute desire in her eyes, waiting to be anointed with my seed.

A sudden, painful tightening filled my testicles, and I nearly doubled over. I groaned aloud, closing my eyes, panic gripping my chest as I tried to determine what was happening and why.

The first release erupted from me, and my eyes instinctively flew open. I watched, transfixed, as the initial jet arced toward my young wife, splattering her face just above her sparkling left eye. Her smile was wide, for she truly enjoyed receiving a facial from me, and she clutched my thighs tightly, turning her face slightly upward to receive as much of my love upon her as possible.

The second volley landed upon her upper forehead, mixing with her auburn bangs. She squealed with delight, a sound reminiscent of a highly-popular porn actress, only my wife's delight was truly genuine.

Then, everything changed.

There were no more jets or volleys. Instead, I literally poured my seed upon her. I had become a fire hose dousing the flames of a burning building. It was one continuous stream of white, and I roared – most unnatural for me – as the pain continued to seize me and the inexplicable event continued. In short order, my wife looked like the star in a Japanese bukkake film, her face and her hair practically destroyed by an inordinate amount of semen.

"Stop!" she cried.

"I can't!" I declared, and it was true. I had no control over myself. Pure logic should have rendered this situation to be absolutely impossible, yet it was happening. There was no explanation for this.

...or was there? I suddenly remembered that phone call several weeks earlier, that prank call to a Santa Hotline. "I want to be able to cum for hours at a time," I had said as a joke.

Already, there was a puddle of white on the floor around us. My wife was visibly torn between remaining where she was and escaping the uncontrollable deluge. The pain persisted, yet more painful for me was the expression of panic in my wife's eyes.

"To the bathtub!" she cried, and somehow, her idea made sense. I hurried as fast as I could through the house, leaving a trail of white behind me as the flow continued unabated. Yet almost an hour later, the bathtub was nearly full, its drain not able to adequately handle all the passion I had within me.

That really left only one other option.

As I stood over the edge of the bathtub, my wife assisted me in putting on some boots and a winter coat. Then I did the only other logical thing:

I went outside, out into the cold, out into the snow, out into the whipping wind. I had to keep moving as much as possible to try to maintain what little warmth I could muster, which was nearly impossible due to my bare legs.

The flow continued unabated. I felt like a popsicle, yet I could not go back inside, not until the unnatural orgasm finally subsided. I was ravenous, my stomach in need of nourishment after having expelled so much energy in this unprecedented manner. I was on the verge of tears, truly distressed by this inexplicable situation.

Eventually, the flow lessened, then ceased. I was very nearly hypothermic, but somehow managed to stumble my way to the back door.

*****

It was three days later before I had truly recovered. The dynamic my wife and I had shared for four months had changed noticeably. She still loved me, fortunately, but she was quite wary of me. Given the unnatural circumstances, she had every reason to be cautious around me.

Sadly, that monstrous orgasm was the last I had enjoyed... and it had been so strong and long that I had not even truly enjoyed it. So this year, I plan to call to the same Santa Hotline and make another request:

"I want to be able to cum."