December 24th and the fatman was having a fit. It wasn't like we've been slacking all year. Well, Okay, so there's been more fucking around than a bad soap opera, but what does he expect? I mean, snow and cold twenty-four seven, and the nearest town a continent away. Not that it really matters, us elves wouldn't be welcome most places anyway.
See, that's where he makes out like a bandit. The only employer of elves on Earth. The guys bitch and moan, but us girls? As well as playing jolly and making toys we gotta put out for ol' lardass if we want to keep our jobs. Ever try blowing a bowl full of jelly? No wonder most of us are lesbians.
Now that Missus Claus, I'd love to get between her thighs. All those nice old ladies you see on television? Forget that shit. The boss has taste, I'll give him that. She's a dish, six foot four inches of pure sex appeal. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tits like soccer balls and legs up to her ass. Speaking of her ass, what an ass.
Oh, I'm Zelda by the way. Yeah, cute fucking name. And I wasn't named after the princess in the video game, she was named after me. Comprende? Good.
I know I sound bitter, but it really isn't that bad. We all get a little edgey as the holidays approach. Things get a little tense and my girl has been so busy painting faces on dolls she hasn't had time to fuck me. So I'm a little bitchy, can you blame me?
I'm in the clothes division. Not the shit kids get, the stuff that goes on
Barbie
and
Baby Wets Herself
. Luckily the demand for dollies is down this year, so we got all the outfits we need. Of course that just means we end up doing something else; the old man will get his pound of flesh out of us - one way or another.
Since I have the best figure, of course I ended up in the big house doing the maid's job. And where is she you might you ask? Well, lets just say she got her Christmas
bone-us
a little early and she's in a family way now. Nobody wants to work the big house, not since Chuckles discovered Viagra. Nice thing about this time of year though is the ole man has performance anxiety and with all the added stress, you rarely see him.
'Course, that goes for the Missus too; I wonder how she puts up with it sometimes, but I guess eternal youth is worth it. Then again, ole lardass is so fat, I don't see how he gets his pickle into the jar, if you know what I mean.
Ugh, geeze, a "thanks for the visual" moment.
Anyways, I hear him going down the stairs now, the 'flying shit factories' are hooked to the sleigh and everyone is outside waiting to send him off. And where am I? Hiding under the bed in the master bedroom, of course. Everyone knows right before he leaves he hits up on that magic dust. Keeps him up all night and moving like a cheetah on speed. Of course he also gets hot and lord help the poor girl he catches. My friend Della got it last year, said it was like being fucked by a Black & Decker power drill. Not this little elf. No way.
So here I am hiding out, when I hear the front door slam. I guess I can start breathing again. Just as I start, in walks the Missus. She looks pissed and I'm guessing the old man must have wanted some elf booty. I mean really, anyone who could walk off and leave her when she's dressed like that is definitely not right in the head. Hell, she's getting me hot. She has on this green satin corset, with black lace trim that pushes her bare breasts up, red stockings, and little red curly booties with bells on the tips. And these indecently brief panties in black, with a green and red sprig of mistletoe embroidered on them right above heaven.
"You can come out now," she said.
I was startled, no doubt. I thought I was pretty well hidden. Obviously she knew I was there, so I crawled out.
"How'd you know I was there?" I asked, looking up at her.
"I didn't, just guessed you would be hiding," she replied with a pretty smile.
Okay, I think she was smiling, I don't really know, I was staring at her tits. So sue me. I mean, from my angle, I couldn't have seen her lips if she had been Mick Jagger.
"Ironic isn't it? You're up here trying to avoid a fucking and I was doing all I could to get one," she said in a sad voice as she turned and walked over to her vanity.
She was staring at herself in the mirror, and I probably should have just split, but her ass was bare and that big, soft expanse of silken flesh was too much to ignore. She turned suddenly and stared at me. I could feel myself blushing. Luckily, on us elves it's hard to tell.
"So, were you avoiding a fucking or just avoiding my husband?"
"The fat man," I replied, now staring at her tits.
"You're kinda cute. And I'm fucking climbing-the-walls horny."
"And?" I managed.
This was unreal. I mean, this was like a fantasy come to life. Was she really about to ask me to her bed? No way, I'm not even close to that kind of lucky. Am I?
"And…How do you feel about Christmas customs?" she said with smile.
I know she was smiling this time because she bent down. Granted, her tits had the lion's share of my attention, but hey I did reply to her face.
"Depends on the custom."
She stood back up and spread those impossibly long legs. Her hands slid down her corset until her long fingers rested on the edge of her panties.
"How 'bout kissing me under the mistletoe?"
Holy Shit! Of course, that invitation is a bit like putting a bitch German Shepherd in heat in the same back yard with a male Chihuahua. He ain't getting any without a step ladder and even in these ridiculous heels I couldn't reach that little triangle of silk with my hands, much less my lips.
The missus just smiled and glanced meaningfully at the bed. When I could tear my eyes away from her, I saw she was looking at the bed steps. Oh hell yes, heaven, here comes Zelda!
I went and got them; leave it to lardass to have cheap elf furniture everywhere in the house, but bedsteps made by Baron von Heavyassshit, that famous concrete sculptor. I was still trying to lift the damned things when the Missus took pity on me and came over. She positioned herself right in front and up I went. And down I went. Busting my ass in the process. Did I mention the outfit the maids wear? Five inch stilettos. I mean really, five inch heels on an elf? Don't even try to tell me the old bastard is sweet and kind. Fucking sadist.
With her pussy waiting for my attention, I didn't even let if phase me and scrambled right back up. This time I wrapped my arms around those big, silky thighs and hung on while I teetered on the top step.
I pressed the tip of my nose right up against the embroidery and started to lick her through her panties. In no time, the crotch of those tiny silk panties was wet and slick. I could taste her pussy through them. Talk about sweet. The missus, she just sighed and then stepped a little forward, straddling the steps and me. I felt her hands on my shoulders, holding me up and I knew that meant my hands were free.
You better believe I pulled those panties out of my way and got a drink straight from the source. Her soft, golden pubes were trimmed in the shape of a little Christmas tree. Cute. All right, so it's demeaning and objectifies her and…so fucking what? Now is not the time for a dissertation on elf feminism. Now's the time for serious pussy eating and you better believe I dug in.
Now, she's not the first human I've been with. All of us put out when Santa is running his "Visit the North Pole" racket. And those of us who are the best at it get the call when Government regulatory agencies show up.
You don't think super Santa crosses all those restricted airspaces for free do you? I mean, he's going ninety to nothing on the magic dust, but he still can't out run a surface-to-air missile. And then there all the special "representatives" you have to placate. I mean, you come bounding down a chimney in Northern Ireland or east L.A. and some one is likely to pop a cap in your ass.
And since Chuckles doesn't make any money,
wink, wink, nudge, nudge
, he pays the piper by having us put out. Ignore that account behind the curtain in Costa Rica. How bout an elf blow job? Either that or he delivers some special cargo, for a cut of course. Last year after he finished up in Jamaica the whole operation ground to a halt until the weed was all smoked. You should have seen some of the dollies, I'm talking noses on their asses and arms coming out from everywhere. It looked like we were sub-contracting in Chernobyl or something.
So back to the Missus. You see, the problem here is, she has a big pussy. No slight on her of course, when you're an elf, everyone has a big pussy. She's also getting excited, which is good, but she's standing right over me. Now I have a talented tongue, but it isn't very large and there's a lot here that needs attention. So I figure the best idea is to concentrate where I know it will feel good. This is all working out just dandy, until I feather her clit and her hips buck.
Did you know elves can fly? Neither did I. But that's where I find myself. Flying backwards through the air like supergirl. Of course, I'm also going down like the human cannonball, without a net. End result is, I'm flat on my back, seeing stars while the Missus is caught between embarrassment and concern. I try to move and my back cracks like the walnuts that prima donna nutcracker is always after. I try to sit up and there's this big popping sound. I bet my chiropractor heard the
Cha-ching!
from her place.
