Daddy Cuckolded By Santa Claus

Watching your wife riding Santa Claus's dick was as surreal an experience as a person is ever going to have in life. He's on the couch that she and I both were sitting on hours earlier as we wrapped the last few gifts to place under the tree, but now she's straddling his lap, gyrating her hips and bouncing over top of him while his lips are suckling her nipples. I can tell she's trying not to moan and cry out, the look on her face is the same one when she and I are having sex in the bedroom and she's trying not to make too much noise because our kid's room is right next door. I'm staring, dumbfounded, on the chair across the living room from them as they continue on as if they're alone in the room.

"Fuck me. Oh god, San'na, fuck me," she moans as her bouncing grows more aggressive. Her words drawling his name into an almost innocent sounding call of children seeing him for the first time each December and screaming it as they run towards his lap.

"San'na! San'na!"

Only her adult intentions were far less pure than wanting a doll or an easy bake oven. She only wanted to taste the batter.

One might be brought back to reality and call this a kink. A fantasy that a wife asked her husband to indulge in and hire a man, a bull, to dress up in a Santa suit and come over on Christmas Eve. She wanted to catch him laying out the presents and then give him some of her milk and cookies before he moved onto the next house. It would be a fun, fetish-fulfilling kink that a dutiful husband gets for his amazing wife. If only it were that simple and easy to explain.

My wife has always been obsessed with Christmas. She is a full participant in every aspect of it from decorating the house (both inside and out), her car, wrapping presents, christmas baking, watching the hallmark movies, caroling, volunteering at soup kitchens, all of it. During the time of mid-November until December 24th she is basically the reincarnation of Mrs Claus and your grandmother combined into one perfect christmas spewing entity.

The funny thing is that you can't bring her down from this. I, myself, am not much into Christmas. It seems most men aren't actually. Some go along with their wives' interest in it, but for the most part they could take it or leave it. My wife is fine with this though and goes along humming Mariah Carey and Michael Buble. I guess she doesn't expect much from me so as long as I'm not impeding her then she gets to like the things she likes.

She despises all of the grinch paraphernalia that is becoming more and more popular. Despite his turn around at the end of the movie it still promotes anti-Christmas sentiment as you buy these things for people who don't like Christmas.

"I find it ironic that people are buying christmas presents of a figure who hates christmas and giving them to people because they hate christmas," she says some form of this to me every time we pass a store selling the stuff.

So I let her enjoy her yearly Christmas activities and try to help when I can, and hide when I don't feel like it. I'll always accompany her to the mall for the heavy lifting though, I find it necessary as part of my duties as the husband to lug around her shopping bags so she can maneuver the stores hands free. Each year I will jokingly ask her if she wants to sit on Santa's lap and tell him what a good girl she's been this year, and every time I say it she responds with the same thing.

"Oh, but that's not the real San'na."

The words dance off of her tongue and her eyes brighten with her smile as she tells me this. I laugh and shake my head, thinking nothing of the comment other than her playing along with my stupid comment and whisking away my attempt at being a little bit dirty.

But now, as I watch her climb off of his lap and drop down between his legs and look at me with a smirk before disappearing his jolly saint dick between her lips I know what she meant now. She knew the real Santa Claus and she wasn't going to sit on any old man's lap just because he was wearing a red velvet jumpsuit. Her dirty words were only going to be whispered into the ear of one gift bearing fat man and they were going to play out her whole fantasy together.

The closer it gets to Christmas I sense a nervous charge in her. The first few Christmases I wasn't sure what it was, but ever since that first time seeing them together a few years ago I've noticed it more and more. It wasn't until last year that I realized she's nesting for him. She's giddy with excitement and nervous anticipation whether he'll like what she's done. The entire Christmas obsession is to make him happy.

I never took my wife for a submissive woman. She's nothing like the trad-wife that makes her husband's lunch and has dinner ready when he gets home while asking how his day was. She has her career and I have mine and we mingle our family responsibilities with the kids and household. We're happy together that way, but whenever the Christmas season kicks up she turns into a 1950s housewife and she's doing it all for Santa Claus. If she didn't spurn the idea of the mall Santa I would have just guessed it was her having a thing for guys in uniform. I don't get it.

As I sit here watching her eagerly bob her head up and down on Santa's cock I can't understand what the obsession is. He's got his pants around his ankles and his large belly still encased in his red velvet coat. His cock is meaty and thick but not overly long, just enough length in it that she's having trouble taking it all the way to the base and with enough girth that it's filling her mouth. I have a perfect view as they sit at an angle and Santa's knees are dropped wide.

The biggest shock of the entire scene, of each time they've gotten together on Christmas Eve actually, is Santa's lewdness. His voice is deep and echoes as he tells my wife that she's got such incredible suction on those wonderful dick sucking lips. This usually spurns her to bob her head up and down faster and Santa throws his head back and moans.

"Oh, mmmm, oh god. Ho, ho ho."

He will usually continue, taking her hair up in his hands and holding it in a ponytail on the top of her head.

"There you go, princess. Suck Jolly ole Saint Nick's dick. You want to taste his cream filling? It's sweet like sugar and goes down easily. Show daddy Santa how bad you want to get off the naughty list. If not you'll get a buttplug made out of coal to wear all year."

Throughout the years of my wife fucking Santa on Christmas Eve I've witness them do many things together. She always sucks his dick and they always fuck, usually her riding him on the couch. One year, the second year after I discovered this, she met him completely naked by the fireplace. She told me to sit in the chair, as I do every year now, and not say a thing. She stripped her clothes off and folded them neatly on the table and sat frog-legged by the fireplace.

He came around the same time at night every year, about a quarter until 1am. She set up ten minutes early and we waited in the silence of the night. There was a Christmas night light candle and the tree lights were on that illuminated the living room to where it was easy to see most of what was going on in the room. As she heard the hooves on the roof my wife got excited and shivered. I stared at the roof as the footsteps walked across it to the chimney and then back to my wife. Her backside started wagging as if she were an excited puppy and she jutted her tongue out panting in the same manner.

When Santa appeared in the opening to the chimney he came with a gust of wind but little else. There was no soot or mess to clean up and no sparkling or twinkling lights. It was just the large man in his red and white suit standing with a sack of toys next to him.

He surveyed the room, locked eyes with me and smirked with a nod of the head. This made my dick shrivel up and almost feel as if it became inverted, but I left no expression to let him know what effect it had on me. When his eyes met my wife's he reached down with his white gloved hand and caressed her face. She nuzzled into it and whimpered softly. Santa tapped his palm against her cheek and bent down to one knee and pulled something from his bag. He placed it around my wife's neck and stood back up, holding a leash that connected to it, a collar, and gave it a tug.

"Come here, puppy. Santa needs his dick drained by a good little pooch."

With that he undid the belt around his belly and let his pants drop to his ankles. This was the first time I had a good look at Santa's dick and was surprised by its thickness. My wife, still on all fours and playing out the act of being a puppy, raised herself up and pressed her face into Santa's cock. She pressed her face in firmly and began to lap at his privates with her tongue, eventually suckling one of his balls into her mouth and moaning deeply. Santa patted her head as she cooed.

"Good girl. You're such a good girl. Santa loves his good girl."

I had never seen my wife act like this before, it was so out of character. We were mostly vanilla sexually but on occasion we would try different positions and even have sex in different rooms of the house. Some of the best sex we had ever had was when we took showers together and fucked in the steamy bathroom as the hot water fell on our bodies. But this? She seemed like a completely different woman.

My wife dipped her head down so she was looking up at Santa's cock. She opened her mouth and in one swoop gathered it in her mouth and was pushing it deeper past her lips. Her butt was wagging back and forth in the air as she bobbed her head back and forth on Santa's dick, him having not made it more than a step or two past the fireplace before engaging in sex acts with my wife.

After a couple of minutes of treating his cock to a tongue bath my wife pulled back off Santa's cock and sat back on her heels. Her perfect, perky tits looked incredible as her soft cheeks rested on her heels. She was sitting up and waiting for her next command from Santa, who yanked the leash and started walking over towards me.

"Come. Come," he said.

When they reached me he pulled her up, reluctantly at first, to standing and then gave her ass a hard, firm slap with his gloved hand.

"Bend over, puppy. Place your hands on his legs and look him in the eyes."

She obeyed and I tried to not obey at first, looking away as to not make eye contact with her as I didn't know what would happen if I did. Eventually my eyes found their way to hers and she stared at me as if she really were a sex pet, not my wife. She looked into my eyes as if this were only a game and the moment it stopped it ceased to have meaning. I stared back into her eyes as her face twisted into pleasure because Santa had just slid his dick inside of her pussy and was slowly pushing until her cheeks met his thighs.

He fucked her, slow at first but eventually he gained speed and fucked her with force. Her perfect breasts, the part I found the sexiest about her, were bouncing before me and I felt my cock start to grow from its initial retraction to pulsing with need.

"Lick him, puppy," Santa barked from behind her. His face was sweating and he was panting between each word because he was out of breath.

My wife began to lick my face as ordered. She dragged her tongue along my cheek and over my eyes. She licked my neck and my ear. Sometimes she found my lips and I tried to push it into a kiss but she quickly retracted her tongue until she was licking somewhere else on my face wildly. I was so incredibly hard and I wanted to stroke my own cock but it felt so awkward having this, whatever he was, entity/god/elf/spirit fucking my wife in front of me I couldn't make myself do it. I couldn't make myself do anything.

Santa orgasmed in my wife shortly after. He gripped her hips tightly as he thrust into her one last time and she turned her head back to watch him as he groaned along with his orgasm being spilled into her. She moved away from me and pushed her backside into him, it was as if I wasn't there again. My erection was still throbbing but it would go unnoticed until later that night when I masturbated into the bathroom and spilled my orgasm into the toilet before slinking into bed next to her, already sound asleep.

Tonight has gone fairly vanilla for both of them. Neither has acknowledged me and Santa had pulled my wife off of his cock before he unloaded down her throat, telling her he wasn't ready to be done yet.

"Not yet, princess. I've got a long night ahead of me and I'm not ready to give up my entertainment."

My wife stood up next to him, looking up at the large man with the big white beard and she stroked it while lazily stroking his dick.

"Do you want to breed my pussy, San'na? I love the warm feeling I get when you fill me with your hot, sticky cum. It's like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, only it tastes so much better when I run my finger through the cream afterwards and taste it on my lips."

"Ho, ho ho. I can see how you ended up on the naughty list, princess. Such a dirty mouth for a pretty face. Maybe Santa should cover it with his hot and sticky cum instead, hm? Maybe you could share the taste?"

They both look over at me and she smiles. It's the same smile she gave me when she told me the mall Santa wasn't the real one. The knowing, mischievous, bright smile of a woman who would do anything to make her man happy. Her man, in this case, was San'na.

As they walked over to me I couldn't move. I wanted to but I couldn't. Ever since the first time I found them fucking on the couch I was unable to do anything whenever he was around. He had control over me the way he could make parents sleep so deep they didn't hear hoofprints on their roof and that he could make little kids forget they saw him the night before when they snuck downstairs. Everyone was left in a hazy, dreamlike state where they couldn't tell if it was real or not afterwards but while it was happening it was clear as a summer's day.

My wife sat in my lap and pressed her back against my chest. I was getting hard and she was teasing the erection out of me by grinding her hips gently downward against my lap. Santa stood in front of us both and my wife dropped her head down, bent at the waist and gathered his cock into her mouth with an eagerness few people showed for such an act.

Santa grabbed her hair again, holding it up in a ponytail against the back of her head as she opened her throat and let him slide as far in as she could let him before gagging. The gurgling sound of my wife choking on Santa's dick was something that was so bizarre it made me blush with embarrassment when I became more aroused the further he pushed in and the louder she became.

He began to fuck her mouth and she bounced back and forth against my body as he did so. One of his hands held under her chin and the other held her hair. She sat still and slack jawed and let him use her mouth and throat for his own rough pleasure. He slammed his dick down her throat and she choked and gawked loudly. This caused her eyes to grow watery and the make up she did herself up in for him at the start of the night began to run down her cheeks leaving a messy, filthy looking whore who was due for a face full of cum.

I couldn't help myself though, it was all coming together in an imperfect culmination of perverted perfection. My own body was betraying my mind. Her body being fucked against me, rubbing and grinding along with the sounds coming from her mouth had driven me too far and even as I sat fully clothed I couldn't resist when he began to tell her that she was his favorite mouth to use and how he loved smelling of her cunt for the rest of the night. It was too much, I couldn't hold back. My cock started to spasm and I let out a roaring moan as I ejaculated in my pants, soaking my cock and staining my underwear.

My body shivered and shook. I jerked forward and my mouth fell open, then I slumped back against the chair. The entire time my hands remained calm against the arms of the chair. My legs never twitched or moved, only my pelvis and chest reacted to my orgasm. My wife made no reaction either, as she must have felt my orgasm shoot and spasm in my pants with her ass pressed tightly against it. Santa continued fucking her throat as he had been as if I wasn't even there.

I was weak against the back of the chair. My body was jostled along with my wife's as Santa continued to aggressively jam his girthy dick down her throat. She was a ragdoll and he was pumping his way into her. It was messy and wild and raw. I found my mind wandering back to the first time I caught them together, when this all started. How I wandered down late at night after getting up to use the bathroom. I heard noises downstairs and it sounded like my wife's voice but different and there was someone else.

"Who the fuck would be here this late?" I said softly to myself as I crept down the stairs.

As I made it to the bottom of the stairs I had a perfect view of the living room where my wife was standing, half naked from the waist up, and a large man in a Santa outfit with his face buried in her breasts.

"Oh, ho ho ho, you have the best tits I've ever touched, princess," the man said to her in a deep, echoing voice.

My wife giggled and pulled his face back down to her chest and he suckled her nipple into his mouth and groaned loud and hungrily in a perverted way.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" I yelled out as I came into the room.

My wife jumped back, startled, "what? How?"

She looked at the man in the Santa suit and he turned to me smiling.

"Don't worry about him, princess. You know how you sat on Santa's lap and told him what you wanted for Christmas? This is it. This is your present for being such a good girl for Santa."

I looked at them both, confused. My wife chewed her lip, trying to put it all together and Santa just smiled at me. I hated the look of his face. I wanted to rush over and throw him out but I couldn't.

"So, he's going to be a good husband then? And he'll let me have this?"

The look on her face was wary but hopeful. She was talking to him as if I wasn't there and wasn't even a consideration.

"No, princess. He's going to be the perfect Christmas husband for his perfect Christmas wife. You get to do all of the things that make you happy and enjoy Christmas to its fullest and he's going to do what a good husband does and let you enjoy this time of year to your heart's content, only along for the ride and to help carry bags or assist with any specific details."

She was still chewing her lip, unsure about all of it.

"But, what about tomorrow? When it's over? How will everything go back to normal?"

Santa smiled and grabbed her hand. He pulled her close and bent down, flicking his tongue lewdly over her nipple while they both stared at me. His gloved hand ran between her ass cheeks and pressed against her tight hole. It made her squeak and jump forward. Her chest was starting to heave and Santa gritted his teeth against her nipple and she yelped.

"He won't remember. It will be like a dream, hazy and missing the middle parts of it that connect it at all. There will be something, like deja vu or when you think you heard something on the roof in the middle of the night but you fell back asleep. He'll forget all of it enough to make any accusation but there will be enough of a memory of your love of this time of year that he'll know something about it gets you going. He just won't remember it's my dick until we're sitting here on Christmas Eve. That's when all of his memories of this night will come back, each time remembering how you fucked me and how he just wanted to be a good husband at Christmas for his lovely wife."

Santa took her hand and placed it over his crotch, squeezing her hand around his dick. He groaned as he pulled his hand away while my wife continued to knead and massage his cock through his loose fitting red velvety pants. They had been doing this every year. Every god damn year she has been fucking Santa Claus on Christmas Eve while I slept upstairs. I wanted to yell and scream and ask how long it's been going on but I was powerless to do anything. All I could do was stand there as he undressed her fully and groped at her body.