You’re walking down the street late one chilly afternoon about a week before Christmas. It hasn't been the best day so far. You are all "dolled up" for today, wearing a long winter jacket over a sexy little black skirt/stockings/heels and white blouse combo. A red scarf sets off your green eyes and short blond hair. You were supposed to meet your "flame", but he had fizzled on you, preferring to work late on an "important project" at work. When you dropped by to deliver a small basket of Xmas joy you caught him under the mistletoe with a co-worker; you left without him even knowing you were there.
You went for a walk to clear your mind, and down by the park you see the standard "Meet Santa" display, but this one has a twist; Instead of the standard throne visitors got to sit in a sleigh with St. Nick and get pulled around the park for about 10 minutes by a pair of "reindeer" as the kid told of their Christmas wishes. You think this is a cute idea and wander over. It is a few minutes before close, the children have all but left, and you are about to leave when you hear a booming baritone voice address you, "Ho Ho Ho little girl, Do you want to take a ride with Santa?" You laugh and shake your head. "Come on dear, or else how will I know what to bring you this year unless you tell me?" You a wave him off again, but a bit slower this time. In truth it is a nice day, and a sleigh ride would be delightful. After a little cajoling you finally agree.
You climb up into the sleigh, now realizing it is much smaller than it looked from where you stood. You remove your jacket as it is too bulky and hand it to one of the elves; your nipples harden from the cool air... perhaps wearing a bra would have been a good idea. The only place to sit is in the Jolly fellow's lap, so you settle down sideways and he wraps his arms around you "like a seatbelt" he grins. An elf throws a blanket across you both, tucking you both in up to your necks for warmth. The ride starts with a lurch, pushing you against him, and you realize that is feels good after the kind of day you've had to have a pair of strong arms around you. You snuggle close to him and after a few minutes he asks you what is bothering you. You surprise yourself by pouring out your story and feelings to him, and almost instantly feel better. He nods understandingly to you, and then directs the "reindeer" onto a side path, a much longer path than riders usually get. He talks with you about what has happened, his words soothing your distress, causing you to melt against him in comfort.
It is then you feel his hand on your stockinged thigh move higher, sliding up and under your skirt. Your eyes grow wide, but he strokes the back of your neck and his strong hands feels so good you find yourself relaxing again, allowing his fingers to drift higher until they rest on the very top of your inner thigh, the fingers absently stroking you through your panties; you can already feel the moisture soaking into your panties, lubricating his fingers and allowing them to slide across the surface easily. His touch is soft, gentle and feels so good, but your still shocked to think your allowing this heavy older guy touch you like that. Then you realize that the beard is fake, the belly a pillow, and his eyes have a youthful sparkle that you only now notice. As he continues to caress your womanhood his other hand draws your head into his neck, and as you drink of his manly aroma he whispers in your ear "Pull up your skirt Sweetie."
You’re shocked by his request, and hesitate for a moment, but a yearning deep in your sex compels you to comply. You lift your hips slightly and wiggle the skirt up and around your waist. You sit down on his lap, enjoying the sensuous feel of velvet on your now bare behind, your thong doing little to disrupt the feeling. His hand, now free of the tight confines of your skirt, begins a more thorough exploration of you. His fingers stroke your warm skin, tickling along your the top edge of your panties, and you feel your thighs parting, betraying your need. His hand slides between them hooks the back of your panties and deftly pulls them down your stockinged legs to your knees, where you feel them slide by themselves to your ankles. Your face is still buried in his neck, and you sigh deeply as his hand returns and cups your shaved sex. He begins to whisper to you, describing what he feels as he slides a finger between your engorged lips and into your oozing wetness. Slowly he begins to stroke your length, gently and randomly driving your passion higher.
