Santa Meets a Donna Dancer & Vixen

or the holidays I work as a Santa to help raise money for a couple of charities. I dress up in a costume and make appearances at various malls and other festivals and events. One of the funniest parts of the job is driving around the city in a Santa outfit... many places I visit don't have dressing rooms, so I simply put on the costume at home and then off I go. But just like any commuter, sometimes I have to pop by a convenience store or stop at an ATM and everyone there thinks it's hysterical to see a Santa doing everyday errands. One evening after doing a gig, I had to stop and get gas on the way home. If the sight of a Santa pumping 87 octane into a Nissan doesn't make one laugh, I'm not sure what does.

Needless to say, on that fateful night there was a young lady standing next to the opposite pump, sobbing and obviously distraught. I watched as she went to a payphone, tried inserting several coins, but the phone wasn't working and she slammed it down in frustration. I also noticed she was hot. Smoking hot. Early twenties, hard body, but lots of curves. Regardless, it is the season of giving so I asked her if she needed to use my cell phone.

She was quite startled to find a Santa offering help, but then said "I don't know what to do... I borrowed my brother's car and it ran out of gas. I don't have any cash on me and now I'm going to be late for work."

"Where's you car?" I asked.

"Right there." She replied, pointing to a beat up Chevy. She had managed to pull off the road and up to the pump – but had no way of paying for gas.

"Listen," I said. "Here's $10. Is that enough to get you to work and back?"

"Oh my God," she replied. "That is so nice of you. I had no idea what I was going to do. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will pay you back."

I said there was no need, but she insisted, "No please let me pay you back. I work at a club just 2 miles away. You can follow me there and I'll get you some cash."

What the hell, I figured. I'm single. It was Friday but I had no plans other than going home to crash in front of the TV. So why not go and grab a couple of cocktails and learn more about this babe? "O.K.," I said, "you talked me into it. What's your name?"

"Donna," she replied and asked me my name. I told her and she shook my hand. "Nice to meet you Jon... I mean Santa." She was now beaming and looked even more stunning.

So we both filled our tanks and I followed her to the club. What she failed to mention was that it wasn't a bar, as I had assumed, but a flipping strip club! I pulled into a parking space and sat there thinking, "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm at a strip club dressed as Santa." I was contemplating leaving when she came up and tapped on my window....

"I have to go in a separate entrance, but tell the bouncer at the front door that you're a friend of mine... then you won't have to pay a cover. I'll meet you inside."

Sheepishly, I walked up to the front door and both the bouncer and valet started chuckling. I mentioned I was there to see Donna and they swung open the doors to let me in. Talk about an entrance! The entire place was packed... three stages of dancers and a large crowd of guys getting drinks from scantly clad cocktail waitresses and lap dances going on everywhere. But it all seemed to come to a standstill when I walked in. The whole place stopped for what seemed like an eternity... but then I was greeted with smiles, laughter and a few cheers from various corners of the room.

There wasn't a bar, so I found myself a little table off to the side and sat down. The first thing I wanted was a drink, and my waitress was quick to comply. Then came an endless procession of dancers wandering the floor, offering lap dances. I kept saying "No thank you, I'm here to see a friend," which sounded pretty silly. I kept thinking to myself... where the hell is Donna? After half an hour of fending off lap dance offers and downing two more vodka tonics, I was getting a little impatient.

Personally, I'm not a big fan of strip clubs. They are fun now and again (and for about 5 minutes), but why the hell should I dish out dollar bills for something I can't touch? It's like taking a kid to a candy store and not allowing them to sample anything. The ultimate tease.

In any case, the mystery of where Donna was cleared up when the DJ announced she was next on the main stage. Finally! She was hands-down the most stunning girl there and as she danced, the edge of the stage filled up with eager fans waving handfuls of bills. She did her thing for two songs but didn't notice me until she was exiting the stage. Her face lit up and she ran over and jumped on my lap. "Are you having fun?" She asked teasingly. As my hand curled around her back, feeling her warm, soft skin, I said, "Now I am."

Now one thing I do like about dancers is that they sure do know how to press buttons. We did a little small talk... where was she from, what did I do for work, etc... but she did this by pressing herself up against me and whispering into my ear. I could feel her warm breath as each word rolled off her tongue like blown kiss. By God I was getting aroused. She also ran her fingers across my Santa suite, saying how nice and soft it felt. She then told me again how thankful she was for my act of kindness and asked if I wanted a free lap dance. Duh. How was I going to refuse?

I was assuming that she'd do the dance right there at my chair, just like the other dancers were doing for the customers around me. Instead, she stood up, took my hand and pulled me up, and led me to the back of the club. I could sense half of the eyes in the place watching this beautiful thong-clad dancer lead Santa backstage... I couldn't have turned more red.

In the back, there were a myriad of beautiful dancers bustling in the halls, changing makeup, prepping themselves to go on stage, etc. I jokingly hinted a tour of the dressing room would be nice. Donna said, "No, you're not allowed in there." Damn, I thought, she doesn't bend the rules. Instead, she took me into a room that had nothing but a chair and a massage table.

"You have a massage room?" I asked.

"Sure. We dancers get sore and we have a lot of spare cash. Usually there's a masseuse here each night, but she's on vacation for the holidays," she replied. The wheels in my head started turning. I was thinking to myself, what a great job! Hell, I'd do it for free.

Donna suggested I sit back on the table and I happily complied, eagerly waiting whatever she had planned. She started doing a seductive dance, peeling off her top. She then pulled my head down to her chest and I could smell the wonderful scent of her skin and feel the orbs of her breasts against my face. I was so tempted to taste them but didn't want her freaking out and having me tossed. So I simply let her do all the moves. She climbed up on my lap, facing me, and squeezed me tight. I could feel a bulge forming under my Santa suit, but I wasn't sure if she could feel it due to the bulkiness of the costume. She whispered in my ear, "so what do I get for Christmas?"

"That depends," I replied flirtingly, "were you a good girl or a bad girl?"

"A little of both, I guess. Naughty and nice"

"Well good girls get what they want, bad girls get a spanking – so I guess you qualify for both," I replied, playing along.

"Oh Santa, I guess we'll have to start with the punishment then." With that, she wriggled off me, slid off her thong, and dove back on my lap face down. I was both shocked and awed and didn't quite know what to do. She looked back at me, gave me a wink and said "I deserve a little spanking."

So here I was, this beautiful package of a woman laying across my lap, asking for a slap on the ass. And what an ass... rounded, taut, and hardened by her profession. Who was I to refuse? So I gave her ass a gentle swat.

"Oh Santa, that was a little soft. I was a really, really bad girl this year." So I smacked her again, but this time a bit harder. "Ooh," she replied, "keep going." Now I've never really been into spanking, but this was different. With each swat, she exuded a sound that might be described as both a whimper and a moan... she was really getting turned on. After a few more smacks, her cheeks were as red as mine. She again rolled off my lap, stood up and leaned into me – whispering in my ear. Only this time she had found the bulge in my suit and massaged my cock as she whispered, "So now what do I get for being a good girl."

Obviously the "no touching" rule no longer applied. I placed my hands on her shoulders and guided her closer for a deep, passionate kiss. My hands then traced her shoulders, arms, around her back and then to her chest. She let out a sigh as my hands enveloped her perfectly-sized breasts, gently squeezing them as my thumbs massaged her nipples. All the while she worked my cock through the velvety cotton of the suit. My hands then traveled down her torso and around the back, where I squeezed and massaged her melon-like buttocks. She moaned approvingly and dug her face into my neck.

Then with one hand, I traced down the back of a leg, then up the front, across the hip and down between her legs. My fingers found a warm, moist wreath into which they dove. Donna gasped as my digits explored the folds of her womanhood. After finding the hot spots that caused her to wriggle the most, I slowly stood up. With fingers still insider her, I used my other arm to scoop her up and lay her on the massage table. I told her to lay back and close her eyes. She did and I spread her legs and planted kisses on her belly. As I moved down, she giggled as my beard seemed to tickle her.

But she never objected and let out a moan as I tasted her sweetness. She tasted of candy canes and gingerbread and I lapped with great abandon as my fingers tickled her berry. By this time her moans had turned into full-out wails. Her legs tightened around my head and she grabbed onto my Santa hat and pressed my head into her body. She started coming and thrashing about, screaming "Santa, Santa. Fuck yes, Santa!"

We both seemed to have forgotten where we were until the door swung open and two other dancers jumped in the room, crying "what the hell?" Donna and I froze. But the two dancers quickly realized what was going on and shut the door... with them on the inside.

"Holy shit Donna," said one of the dancers, 'you're getting head from Santa?"

She just laid back laughing and said out loud... "Isn't that what every girl wants for Christmas?"

"Actually," said the other girl, "I'd rather be fucked by Santa as I sit on his lap and tell him what other things I wanted."

All three of them laughed out loud, as did I. But then Donna said, "Be my guest." "Huh?" I thought. This was a surreal situation getting even more so. She slid off the table and positioned me to face the two girls. From behind she reached around and undid my big, black belt buckle and dropped my red pants to the floor. Then she the slid off my red boxers to reveal my north-facing pole.

"Go ahead ladies... he's my present to you. You know the saying... it's better to give than to receive... so how about you give Santa something to remember?" With that, the two new girls took the cue and swooped down on my cock, taking turns giving head. I couldn't believe it. One was a short brunette with a ballet body. I'll forever remember her as Dancer. The other was a sultry blond. A real vixen. Both were world class cocksuckers and I was in heaven and about to burst as they played with Santa's little helper.

"Hold on ladies," Donna said, "It looks like Christmas is going to come a bit early this year." They backed off while Donna positioned the chair behind me and had me sit down. She then walked around to face me, grabbed my cock and slid onto it as she sat on my lap. She felt fabulous and slowly started to grind. She looked back at the other two girls and said, "Don't worry, I'm going to share. I simply want to be the first to give Santa my wish."

"And what's that?" I managed to belt out.

"That you come back to this room for the next few nights and give all my co-workers whatever they want for Christmas," she said aloud, and then whispered in my ear..."And that you see how one good deed deserves another, and another, and another."

And for the next week I returned each night, dressed as Saint Nick with a bag full of toys... and had a very, merry Christmas.

- the end -