Santa's Nasty List - Entry 001

***Hello, and happy Holidays! Oren here from the LewdLustLibrary, or LLL as I'll call it from here on out! Below you will find my second ever published story which is my first holiday themed erotica. I really enjoyed putting this one together, imagining Santa with a third list that he kept all to himself. Quick note, this one is the first of a series, but entries will only be added during the Christmas season every year, so don't expect anything more frequent than that! Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story and thank you as always for your support!***

The snow fell heavily from the skies above, blanketing the ground and trees of the North Pole. Reindeer gingerly roamed the area, picking what they could from the bushes and other greenery, leaving hoofprints in the powdery white fluff. The area was quiet and tranquil, a scene straight from a painting that could be displayed above a roaring fireplace.

In a wide clearing, a house nestled square in the middle as billowy smoke rose from the chimney atop the roof. The windows glowed a fiery orange as the fireplace crackled and popped from within. The workshop across the way bustled like a hornet's nest as the tiny elves worked frantically to stuff the enlarged sack containing toys for all the good boys and girls of the world, for tonight was Christmas Eve.

The reindeer were strapped in their places, ready to fly the sleigh through the night on their route around the globe, with Rudolph's nose glowing that brilliant red. Everything had been inspected closely to avoid any tragedies on this magical night. The elves ensured all the straps and harnesses were in good condition with no fraying and that the reindeer were in good health. And while all this took place outside under the falling snow, Santa Clause was in his house doing his own inspections.

Resting in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace with a glass of eggnog on the little table next to him, Santa closely studied his lists. He already checked the naughty list twice, this year seemed to have broken a new record on the naughty side. Why were all the little shits of the world growing in number, while the good children seemed to be less frequent? It was a question he didn't have an answer for, but that seemed to be the way it went these days.

He finished up his second pass of the nice list, and everything checked out. He rolled it up and grabbed the likewise rolled naughty list. With a quick flick of the wrist, he tossed them across the room into the fireplace, causing the flames to dance higher up the brick chimney. He gulped from his eggnog with a chuckle and upon setting it down, did a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure he was alone. With Mrs. Clause nowhere in sight, he reached into his coat pocket and retrieved what he was looking for.

Everyone knows that Santa has two lists, which he checks twice every year. We sing about them and teach them to our kids as a means to keep them in line. Otherwise they wake up to find coal in their stockings and no presents under the tree. And while those songs and stories are true, there is a third list that none of those merry jingles ever mentions. This third list happens to be Santa's favorite list. The Nasty List.

This secret list is filled with names from across the world, naming folks who ask for something a little extra for Christmas and over the years the requests have only grown. Each and every time someone wishes for the big holly jolly man himself, their name scrawls itself in ink upon the nasty list to be added with all the other kinky people on Earth. With this list, Santa treats himself, and of course one lucky individual, every year.

He placed a thick, pudgy finger on the paper and closed his eyes, letting it slide down the page across the names scrawled neatly in a line. He stopped his trajectory more than halfway down the list, which happened to be the only one not in alphabetical order, and came to rest on this year's lucky winner. Opening his eyes slowly, Santa read the name of the lucky recipient aloud. "Tiffany Overton." And with that, he brought up her inquiry, which spelled out her sultry desires.

As he read her letter, his meaty cock began to grow under his bright red pants, forcing his belt to stretch in protest. He again peered over his shoulder to ensure he was alone before finishing his letter. Once he was satisfied, he tossed it, along with the Nasty List, into the fire where it joined the other lists, already burned away. He mapped out his route and with a satisfied smile, he stood from his chair, adjusting to pull his erection up under his belt. It was settled, Tiffany Overton's chimney wasn't the only thing Santa was coming in tonight...

* One Week Earlier

Tiffany Overton lived in Kentucky with her lazy drunk of a husband. She stood at the counter of her kitchen, looking over the island into the living room where her husband was starting to drift away in the loveseat, a half empty bottle of vodka in his lap. They had been married for three years, the most recent being the worst of them all. Now you may be wondering why Tiffany would stay in a marriage if she loathed it so much, to which she would tell you, "I'm not a quitter." She needed a better reason than dissatisfaction to break things off. She was stubborn and she knew it.

Things hadn't always been so bad, hence the reason they wed in the first place. Her husband, Alex, once had a good head on his shoulders and was an up and comer at his job at the computer sales company he used to work for. He wasn't the best, but he wasn't the worst. He coasted comfortably in the middle of the pack. Until he blew it all.

Alex had lost a pretty sizeable lead which would have not only launched him into the top salesman spot, but would also come with a fucking huge bonus. Enough to actually make a difference in their lives. But as the lead dwindled and the company purchased through a competitor, Alex had been pulled into a meeting with his boss and had been ripped apart for "incompetence" and "lackluster sales pitches". It had been a horrible meeting with only a single ray of sunshine. He hadn't been fired.

Alex had stopped at a bar on the way home with some coworkers and one shot of whiskey turned into five, which blurred into several others, until he finally lost count. He had been driven home by a fellow peer where he spent the night puking on the couch. TIffany was supportive and understood the need to let out some steam. But Alex found a new love in the form of a bottle, which consumed a lot of their finances, and even more of his attention.

The drinking led to Alex losing his job, then his friends, and finally some family connections. He was a disgrace and he didn't give two shits about it. It was always someone else's fault if you asked him. Tiffany's income became the only income, which barely kept them afloat. She pulled in as many extra shifts as she could at the office where she worked in customer service. As far as aspirations went, it wasn't her dream job, but she enjoyed it and was good at it. It hadn't been until the year prior when she looked at her husband, passed out on the loveseat in front of the television as he so often did, that she had truly begun contemplating divorce. It had been a constant struggle in her mind, but her fear of allowing something to fail forced her to push on.

As far as a reason, she had a small suspicion that maybe Alex had been cheating on her, but had no proof. Alex spent a lot of time "going out" and "job hunting" but would be gone for hours on end, potentially even longer as she didn't know what the fuck he did when she was at work. Through all of Alex's shitty tendencies, he was sly and covered his tracks well. So well that Tiffany had sometimes doubted her instincts, but that's the funny thing about that tiny voice in your head. You should always pay attention to that voice.

Alex and Tiffany had no children, partially by choice and partially by circumstance. During the first year of marriage they had tried, and tried often, to have kids. Regardless of how many times they had sex, the pregnancy tests always came up negative. After a while she stopped buying them due to rising prices on literally fucking everything. She never went to a doctor, neither of them did. She didn't want to have the bad news that they were infertile, so she just told herself that the timing wasn't right.

Upon Alex's consistent benders, she had pulled the plug on trying for kids and got on birth control. She told him that they would discuss it if or when he became sober. That conversation hasn't happened yet and isn't looking likely anytime soon. She had been sad by that fact at first, but ultimately she became numb. She was only twenty eight and had some time, but looking at the Christmas tree with only a few presents underneath it, all of them to Alex, she couldn't help but feel aggravated.

"Are you planning on doing anything tonight, Alex? Or is your schedule full of drinking and passing out again?" She asked him, not hiding the venom in her tone.

"Uh...sorry hon, I just don't feel good, I'm hoping I can sleep this thing off. Then I'm all yours." Replied Alex, slurring his words.

She wanted to reply, something snarky about feeling shitty because of the fucking booze, but she kept it to herself and instead sipped at her white wine. She sighed and made her way to the bedroom down the hall where she shut herself in. She set her wine on the nightstand and grabbed her laptop, bringing it to life. She pulled up Netflix and began watching her show, some thriller in its second season. After a few minutes, she grew bored and shut it off, staring at her home screen.

She cursed to herself in frustration. For all the things she hated Alex for, this was becoming a big one. Despite his flaws, she still found him attractive and often wanted to overlook his drunken stupors so she could fuck him silly. She was in that mood now, sitting on her bed with naughty desires circling her mind and a growing sensitivity between her legs. She tapped her laptop in a jittery manner, debating on just going out to the living room and riding Alex on the loveseat. Even if all it accomplished was handling that craving and just getting off, although Alex would probably pass out halfway through. That had happened once and the whiskey dick was less than satisfactory.

She looked to her nightstand and pondered the thought. Inside, tucked away in the back of the top drawer was her little battery operated fucktoy that she was forced to use more than her husband's own cock. She pondered a quick evening of vibrating bliss until she could get past this lingering feeling. She opened up her web browser and navigated to her favorite pornography site. She didn't use it often, but it was there when she needed it.

The homepage of the site was littered with numerous Christmas themed videos featuring Santa or Mrs. Clause and even elves as they fucked in what would be stupid raunchy holiday themed stories. Tis the season after all. She kept scrolling but found nothing that tickled her fancy, or her pussy. She closed her laptop and grabbed her phone where she planned to doom scroll until her eyes couldn't stay open. As she thumbed her way down the page, a silly advertisement appeared advertising something called Santa's Nasty List.

It seemed so fucking stupid, but she sipped her wine and clicked on it. Why not? Her curiosity got the better of her, and she just had to see what this nasty list was. It brought her to a separate webpage with a brief and silly description. Feeling extra naughty this year? Why not ask Santa for a special treat, just for you. Brighten up your holidays by leaving Santa a request, and if you're lucky you'll be shouting, "Oh, Oh, Oh!!"

"I get it, instead of Ho, Ho, Ho." Tiffany said between a giggle. The wine was already starting to brighten her mood, normally she wouldn't have found that euphemism funny. She wasn't uptight, not really, but in light of recent months she didn't quite have a reason or even a chance to let loose and be herself, especially not with Alex.

She sipped her wine and finished it off, much to her chagrin. She stared at her phone and the stupid Nasty List page while twirling the empty glass in her hand. She contemplated the thought of topping herself off, but that would mean walking past Alex in his drunken stupor which would only ignite the frustration in her gut. Her mind made up, she locked her phone and tossed it onto the bed, leaving her room to the hallway. She walked past the living room, television still playing some nonsensical Christmas movie while Alex slouched in the chair. As she passed, she noticed him snoring. He was out cold.

She kept her path to the kitchen, grabbing the chilled bottle of white from the fridge and uncorked it. She went to fill her glass and had a better idea and set in the sink, instead sipping from the bottle. She filled a glass of water and popped a couple Ibuprofen tablets into her palm, then set those on the coffee table in front of Alex. She snagged the bottle in his lap and screwed the lid back on, setting it in the cupboard where it went. The battle she fought in her head about Alex was never ending, and each time she allowed herself to care for this man, it only grew stronger. He didn't care for her when she was down or ill, so why did she do it for him? Because she never quit.

She cleared her head, she had other plans for the night and didn't want to dampen the mood, just her panties. She tossed a blanket over Alex and turned the television down but let it play on. She walked back down the hall, the wine bottle dangling from her fist and entered her room, this time locking the door behind her. She jumped on the bed, took a large swig from the bottle and set it next to her before booting up her laptop. It would be easier to type her message to "Santa" or whoever set this fucking page up, likely collecting kinky letters from suckers like herself to beat off to.

She turned on the small mounted tv across the room, just for some background noise, finding some stupid reality show about big chested women who just argued with each other the whole time. She laughed at the sheer amount of plastic surgery these ladies had, almost like they just came out of some Barbie packaging. After watching for far too long, she navigated to the Nasty List site and clicked the button to get started, which brought her to a blank typing field where she could make out her letter.

She sipped from the bottle again, the cool liquid feeling good in her throat, and prepared to type. The entire thing was silly, but she was in a silly mood which was much better than moping around being pissed off at her situation. She mindlessly watched the television again while thinking of what she would write. Then, her fingers began clacking at the keys.

"Dear Santa,

My name is Tiffany Overton, and I have a special wish for Christmas this year. You see, for the past several years, I've been struggling with my marriage and my sanity. Times have been tough and I am ready for a change of scenery. I am not going to get sappy on you or beg for a miracle, I promise. Between all the daily challenges of being stuck where I am, there is one big thing that I can't seem to keep at bay. So instead of asking you for some miracle that will allow me to begin anew, I am going to ask for what I would consider a very simple favor... one that both of us would benefit from tremendously. For Christmas this year, my wish is for you to slide yourself down my chimney- or come in through the front door, I don't care- and sneak your way to my bedroom at the end of the hallway. Tip-toe your way past all the decorations that I've hung in preparation for this special night. And when you make it to my room, and you let yourself in, oh so quietly, I'm hoping you can give this gal a very special surprise. I want to feel you tug the sheets off my body, revealing a surprise treat. And once I'm laid bare to you, in all my glory, I want you to take me. I want to feel you ravage me, fuck me like a plaything and make me scream your name. I want to feel you inside of me. And when you are done, I want you to cum, proving that your only full sack isn't the one containing toys. That would be the best Christmas present you could give me this year. Merry Christmas Santa."

She leaned back against her propped up pillows, satisfied with her letter. She was surprised at the level of vulgarity she could type out when she wanted to. It was easy to see the pent up sexual energy that was festering inside of her as she re-read every line. And as she read, the tingling between her legs continued to grow. She squeezed her thighs together, feeling the cotton of her panties tighten against her pussy. She stared at the submit button at the bottom of the page, big and red. Was she really going to send this, knowing that it's a fucking scam?

She sipped from her bottle again, leaving just a bit left and hit the button, sending off her kinky request. She closed the browser and shut her laptop. She killed the television and used the restroom to prepare for bed. She downed the rest of the wine before brushing her teeth then took off her makeup. Her pants were discarded and her bra came off, leaving her in a shirt and panties as she crawled into bed. Having made up her mind well before, she reached into her nightstand and grabbed her vibrating source of release. She snapped off the lamp and pulled the sheets up to her neck.

She clicked the toy on, filling the room with the soft buzzing noise that she had become more accustomed to than she would have hoped, and ran it down the length of her torso, teasing her nipples as she descended. Before long it was tucked snug beneath her panties which were already getting moist from her heightened arousal. She pushed it against her clit as erotic fantasies took over her focus. Visions of Santa, fucking her wildly as the headboard slammed against the wall. In this fantasy her husband shot up from the couch and rushed into the room to see his wife being absolutely dominated by the jolly fat man. And like the small man her husband was, he sat on the floor and watched as Santa fulfilled her darkest desires; the ones she never shared with anyone. With one final thrust of his mighty hips, Santa pulls out his dripping cock and spews his load all over Tiffany, coating her in his snowy white surprise.

Tiffany moaned loudly as her orgasm hit, making her writhe under the sheets. She squeezed her thighs against the small buzzing toy as it continued its relentless assault on her swollen clit while her pussy soaked her panties further. She rode the waves of ecstasy before clicking the toy off, catching her breath. She gently pinched her nipple, bringing another small orgasmic rush to her body.

"Fuck." She whispered, unable to remember the last time she had an orgasm that great.

She put her toy away and slid from bed, taking off her soaked panties. In the bathroom, she wiped herself clean and put on a fresh pair of underwear before hopping back in bed. She sighed as her ass landed in the moist remnants of her holiday fantasy. She rolled over to her husband's side of the bed, which would remain empty as he slept on the loveseat. She replayed the vivid scene in her head, asking herself how the fuck she could come up with something so crazy. But through her attempts at denial, the visions continued to make her cunt throb with lust. It was with these visions that she drifted off to sleep, unbeknownst to her that her name had been scrawled on an all too real list.

** Christmas Eve- Present Day

The cool winter air rushed past Santa's face, his big white beard billowing around his neck. He held the reins in his gloved hands, occasionally spurring the flying deer forward. As always, he was right on time, giving himself a little leeway for his stop in Kentucky where a lucky woman was awaiting his arrival. His dick throbbed as her words swam in his mind, beckoning him forward for a night of crazy carnal sex. He had been saving up for this moment.