Author's Note: The events described herein happened when I was eighteen, and a virgin. Yes, that dirty old man St. Nick turned me into a trick. He made me ride his "north pole" like a cowgirl and he slid down my hot little chimney. But I never did get all the presents he promised me for being naughty and nice. And the necklace was pearl, not diamond. Actually, being seduced by Santa wasn't all that bad until I found out who he really was and his checks bounced. I really got screwed that year. It was almost like having your birthday on Christmas. I'm just glad I didn't believe the dude had a vasectomy like he said. As if! I mean, where the hell did all those little elves come from? But this Santa really did come from somewhere cold because his dick sure was stiff. But dammit, I should have went to midnight mass that night and I wouldn't have ended up being that bearded whoremaster's Christmas Eve piece of ass. Well, on with the story.
* * *
I always wait until the last minute to finish my Christmas shopping. I'm not sure why but it's true I do procrastinate about many things. Finally, that Christmas Eve I finished and lugged the shopping bags filled with presents all the way through the mall, heading for the far side where I had come in. I really wanted to sit down for awhile. My feet were killing me. The mall had mostly cleared out and the stores would close soon.
This Santa sat all alone in his chair. He motioned for me to come over.
"You look tired, miss."
"Oh yeah, shop till you drop. That's me."
"Would you like to sit down?" he inquired.
"I sure would."
"Why don't you sit on my lap and tell Santa what you want for Christmas?"
"Huh?"
"On my lap, sit on my lap. Santa doesn't bite, you know."
"Well . . . uh . . . I don't know . . . I . . . uhβ"
"Didn't you ever sit on Santa's lap before?" he interrupted.
"Yeah, but that was years ago."
I was really tired and he looked and sounded rather harmless. Well, I couldn't tell for sure in that stupid suit and fake beard.
"Don't even try to feel me up," I cautioned.
"Who me? I'm a very religious person. Now come here and sit on my lap, please." So I did. "I see you've bought a whole bunch of presents. For your family and friends, I assume." I nodded. "Did you buy anything for yourself?" I shook my head, indicating no. "Would you like something for yourself, from Santa?" I shook my head, indicating yes. "And what would you like for yourself, missy?"
"Well, I saw this black LaROK vest I really liked . . ."
"How much was it?"
"$178."
"Wow, that much for a little vest?"
"Nice things are expensive, dude."
"You deserve nice things, missy. You are a very attractive young lady."
"Thank you. But I can't afford that kind of stuff. I shop cheap, for myself. I'm a freshman in college and barely have enough to buy certain feminine products, which are quite essential. I maxed out all my credit cards buying presents tonight. It'll take me years to pay them off."
"That's a shame. Well listen, Santa would like you to have that vest. The real St. Nick gave to the needy many, many centuries ago."
"Well, I certainly am needy. In more ways than one." For some strange reason, I was getting horny. It may have been because I was thinking about some expensive new clothes and accessories. "You really would like me to have that vest, St. Nick?"
"Will you take a personal check? Santa doesn't carry much cash because Santa got robbed. Right here at this very mall."
"No! Who would rob Santa?"
"A guy with a gun, that's who. I coughed up the dough real quick." He pulled his checkbook from his pocket, asked my name, and wrote me one for $178. "Sarah, now I'd like you to do something for me. Well, more like something for yourself. Santa likes to make people feel good. Please go get one of those big candy canes off that tree." I did and came back and sat on his lap again. "I want you to please yourself, Sarah. With that candy cane."
"Huh?"
"Please yourself. Masturbate. You do masturbate, don't you?"
"Uh . . . well . . . uh . . . Iβ"
"C'mon, you can tell Santa. He knows who's naughty and nice. What do you usually masturbate with?"
"Um . . . uh . . . I . . . usually . . . uh . . . my fingers. My father is a minister and if he or my mother ever caught me with a vibrator I'd be excommunicated, or something like that. Occasionally, I . . . uh . . . use things like vegetables and fruit. Bananas are good if they aren't real ripe." I giggled. "Once my mother came into my room as I was sucking on a cucumber I just had stuck up my pussy. I was practicing giving blow jobs. She said, 'You really ought to peel or slice that thing, or something.' She didn't have a clue."
He laughed. "Most everyone masturbates. It's nothing to feel guilty about."
"That's not what my father says!"
"Practicing blow jobs you said. You do fellatio?"
"Never have yet. But some of my girlfriends do it at frat parties for a big foamy glass of beer and a shot."
He smiled. "You're going to look great in that new vest, I'm sure. Did you see anything that might go good with it?"
"A grey Chaiken wool knee-length skirt. It was $242."
He wrote me another check. "Now please stick that candy cane up that little red skirt you're wearing now and do yourself. And don't slip your panties down. Cum in them and give them to me and I'll buy you something else nice."
I did as he suggested. Soon I began to moan softly. I laid my head back against his chest. He put his hands inside my open coat and began to fondle my breasts through my blouse.
"Oh . . . I . . . ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . I'm . . ."
He nibbled on my ear, and whispered, "C'mon baby, do that little sugar bush of yours. I'd love to see it. I bet it's as red as the hair on your head."
I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle a scream as I had a really good orgasm. My best one yet and the first ever in the presence of someone else. And he did help a little with his feeling and licking, although that fake beard tickled.
As soon as I pulled the candy cane from under my skirt, he grabbed it and began to suck on it. "You know, this doesn't even taste like peppermint now. And where's the panties, my dear?"
"Hey, where's my check, dude? I saw a white Afshin Feiz blouse that would go great with the vest and skirt. $400."
He wrote me another check. And he got the panties. "Oh, red panties! They match my Santa suit!" Immediately he began to sniff and lick them. "Santa likes panties. But Santa likes what's in them even better. Now, is there anything else you saw in the boutiques you liked?"
"The panties aren't exactly red, dudeβthe color is advertised as 'Sugar Melon.' I could use some new boots. Sigerson Morrison. Black with spiked heels. $495."
"I don't really care what color the panties are as long as they're juicy." Out came his checkbook again. He wrote the check but wouldn't let me take it. "Only if you let me lick that hot little pussy of yours."
"Huh?"
"Dive for tuna. I want to go down on you. Cunnilingus."
"But . . . but . . . we can't . . . do that . . . here. People will see us!"
"So you'd let me eat you if I buy you the boots?"
"Well . . . uh . . . I do like those boots, but . . . nobody ever did that to me before. Eat me, I mean."
"Getting off with my tongue is no different than getting off with yours fingers, or a cucumber, or a candy cane. You're just masturbating, but with something a little different."
"Yeah, I suppose so. You're very persuasive, Santa." I grabbed the check from his hand. "But not here. I couldn't relax enough to get off I don't think."
"I have the key to the janitor's closet. It's a huge room and they have all kinds of stuff in there. After the stores close I clean the mall. I saw some big foam pads in there. Don't know what they use them for, but they'd make a nice mattress."
I shrugged. "Let's go. We have to hurry. Now I have more stuff to buy before the stores close."
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I lay naked on my back on one of those foam pads. And he had his head between my legs. He insisted on keeping on the Santa suit and beard.
"Dang it Santa, you're tickling me!"
"You'll be way beyond caring about the tickling in a moment, my dear. I'm going to get your cooter nice and juicy so you can jump on my joy stick."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. We'll negotiate that part later. I'm going to make you squirt like a split hose, little darlin' of mine."
"I'm not your little darlin', dude!" I protested. But then I groaned as he began to "minister" to me, in a way my father the preacher never had.
Santa spread my legs further and stuck two fingers inside me with his hand cupped over my mons. His fingers went in and out as the ball of his hand pressed hard against my vulva. He tapped gently on my clit with his fingertip and got me off very quickly. I stifled a scream and just whimpered and sighed because I didn't want him to know how much he turned me on. He definitely could do me better than I could do myself.
And then he stuck his tongue out and me and made lewd motions with it. Oh my God, I had never seen a tongue like that! "Did you like that, Sarah?" he taunted, as he licked the juice off his fingers and smiled wickedly. "I can do that much better with my tongue than I can with my fingers, you know. I want to eat you, my sweet little horny slut. Would you like that, Sarah? I want to put my tongue right between your long, lovely stems and taste your honey box. I want to make you squeal and squirm and beg for more. Would you like that, Sarah, you hot, tight little cunt?"