The woman who had come to be known as Milfy on various adult forums and sex community websites lay on the sofa in the living room, wearing a loosely open pink silk robe, and plunging her buzzing pink vibrator into her wet open pussy.
It was the night of Christmas Eve, or the early morning of Christmas day, she wasn't sure anymore. Her head arched back on the armrest of the sofa and her body tense, she concentrated on the next rising orgasm.
As she enjoyed feeling it build she continued daydreaming. Tonight's topic was risky behavior. Exposed and engaging in personal activities, it wasn't the risk of being caught by her teenagers, who were at friend's houses, arranged by her, to be back in the morning for presents. Who it actually was, she wasn't even sure.
For as long as she could remember, she would buy the kids Christmas presents and put them under the tree, and for as long as she could remember there would be extras on Christmas morning.
They were always wrapped in paper that matched the paper she used. There would always be store receipts to match the gifts, with her credit card number. When she tried searching through her bank statements on her banking app, there were never charges for the items. They just appeared.
As much as her kids joked about dementia or mom being in a shopping trance again, being in her mid forties, she really didn't believe she simply forgot about half the presents every year.
She was in her mid forties, in her mid forties and beautiful. She had sandy hair and a pretty little mouth that had a sexy little flirtatious grin. Her glasses gave her a sexy secretary look but it was the reaction she got from her son's friends that made her choose the moniker Milfy.
The way they looked at her body and seemed to have their eyes permanently fixed on her big perfect tits made her think that she was a mom they would definitely like to fuck.
They had it written all over their faces, and more often than not, the fronts of their pants. She let them look, many times leaving an extra button undone on her top or leaving out the panties. Feeling their eyes wonder over her tight pants and realizing they couldn't see a pantyline. She hated the thought of her son's friends arriving back home without the urgent need to stroke their aching cocks and fill a few tissues.
So having ruled out the kids playing a prank on her, their father secretly sneaking in to do an anonymous gift surprise ( yea right), and not believing in Santa or her own dementia- she concluded the best way to solve the mystery was to guard the tree overnight.
At that moment, she had only put her own gifts under the tree. All she had to do was wait to see how the extras got there and pass the time. Which she did, without complaint, in the peace of the night, nothing but the buzzing of her vibrator stirring.
The best way to describe Milfy was- a flirty sweetheart with the soul of a nympho. One thing was certain, who ever was bringing in the extra presents was getting treated to a nice sight.
The idea of getting caught was magnifying by the minute. Every hour that ticked by brought her closer to the answer. Her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, thinking about surprising an unknown person and the wide spectrum of consequences that might come with it.
Was it one of her kids after all? Sneaking in to continue a years long joke only to find mom on the sofa with her vibe buried deep inside? Maybe it was some kind of do-gooder. A stranger from the church, wholesome and pure, convinced they will be forgiven for trespassing by doing a selfless act of kindness. She had ruled out the kids. They had alibis the past two years. But what if? What if? If it was her son was he alone or were friends helping him?
She continued toying with her pussy free of guilt. Whoever it turned out to be, it would be shame on them. She was in her own house, alone, with every right to masturbate on her sofa. The excitement was becoming too much. Her body tensed and her pretty little mouth opened in a silent moan as she felt the orgasm finally approach.
It was nearly interrupted by a banging noise. Startled, she closed her legs together over the vibrator and sat up but had not turned it off.
She had thought it was the front door opening but then realized it was coming from the fireplace.
She swung around the sofa and crouched behind it, keeping the vibe in place with her legs without even thinking about it.
She watched, paralyzed with anxiety. There was a fire in the fireplace yet she heard someone coming down. The though of the do-gooder from the church entered her mind and she thought this was taking it a little too seriously. Why would they come down if there was a fire?
She thought about her actions. So much for 'whoever it is will get a surprise' she had no idea she would startle like this.
That's when the vibe she was holding in her pussy by her thighs continued its job on her, while she waited to see who came out of the fireplace and her brain had time to slow down for a second.
Heavy breathing and cumming, hard. Then she switched it off and pulled it out, leaving her pussy to drip on the floor as she watched over the back of the sofa.
She worried they would get burned. She still wanted to surprise them. She gained back some of her courage after the initial scare died down.
A black boot stepped directly into the fire, then another. She couldn't believe it. A man dressed as Santa came out, completely untouched by the flames, followed by a gigantic bag.
Maybe it was the wine, this wasn't a man dressed as Santa. This was Santa. The man and the bag were both too big for the chimney. Everything she saw was magic.
The fat man, covered in soot, opened the bag and placed presents under the tree, saying each of her kid's names each time.
The paper is exactly like mine, she thought.
He stopped and looked at pictures on the shelf. His eyes lingered on a bikini pic of Milfy. He shook his head.
What did that mean?- she thought.
She let her own eyes wonder a little. Sure enough, Santa had a hard-on pressing against the front of his pants.
He pulled the string closed on the bag and quietly muttered, "the family here is unawares, so let them think these gifts were theirs," and sort of glittery dust filled the room and faded.
It's now or never, she thought. "No gifts for me Santa?"
He turned around startled. She was standing behind the sofa now, robe almost completely open.
"How are you awake?" Santa said.
"I just am," said Milfy. "I wanted to see where the extra stuff came from every year."
"And how do you know about that?" Santa looked confused and irritated. "The reindeer are supposed to bring me to the houses in the order that the coast is clear for each. It's magic, it's never failed before."
"Nothing for me?" Milfy tried again.
"Definitely not," Santa replied without hesitation. "You're bad." He took a few candy canes from his pocket and hung them on the tree.
Milfy turned a little and bent forward, lifting the back of the robe slowly over her perfect ass. "Am I bad, Santa? Do I need to be spanked?"
"Not bad the way you think it. Actually bad. No good wholesome woman behaves the way you do."
"What?" Milfy's feelings hurt over that. "I'll admit to naughty. But I'm not a bad person."
To Milfy's horror Santa pulled a list from his pocket and began to read.
"Teasing your son and his friends," Santa began.
Milfy interrupted, "I tease his friends, not him."
"Who can see him all the time?" Santa replied. "He gets worked up over it." Santa continued. "Teasing and playing with men on adult websites, many of whom are married. Upon noticing your new next door neighbor masturbating in his window while spying on you, you didn't close your blinds, you instead undressed and stood there until he finished. At a concert you rubbed the front of a strangers pants-."
"Okay," Milfy interrupted again, "those are just lonely guys. I make them feel better."
"Men with wives and families aren't alone," Santa said.
"There are different kinds of lonely," Milfy said, looking him in the eyes. She took a step closer. "You're telling me these long days you put in don't take a toll on you?"
She saw something sad in his eyes. The jolly fat man depicted in paintings surfing or chilling on a beach was far from what she saw.
She put her hand on his belly and tried slowly stroking his beard.
"Stop," he said irritability, gently pushing her hand back.
She put it right back, running her fingers through his beard.
"So you're telling me Mrs. Claus has time to take care of you?" she said gently. Then she leaned in and propped herself on her tippy toes trying to reach her lips to his.
"I said stop." He pulled her back, but he did it by her hair.
"There you go, big boy," she said. They just looked at each other for a minute. "You can do me. You'll feel better. Just let it go. Do what you need to do."
Her head was pulled back. He hadn't let go of her hair. He didn't seem to know what to do. His resolve was breaking and she could tell he was still trying to hold it together.
She reached out slowly and could just touch the bulge in the front of his pants. She slowly ran her fingers along the length of it. Santa's eyes closed and his breathing picked up.
