WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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This is the tenth in my “(insert holiday name) Birthday” series. This time, Mr. Marcus is solicited to help convince a Bible-toting young lady that sex is a normal part of growing up. Mr. Marcus remembers that it is better to give than receive, and is only happy to give Loretta’s niece a lesson. But first, he has to play Santa.
* * * * * * * * * *
Scene One
“Daddy, it’s for you. But make it quick, huh. I’m expecting a call.”
Anna, my daughter, is always expecting a call. I wasn’t.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Mr. Marcus, this is Betty Blanton. Marci’s mother.”
Ah yes, Marci, my sweet Easter treat who fucked like a bunny while I was in my rabbit suit.
“Yes, Mrs. Blanton. How are you?”
“Fine. I hope you haven’t forgotten about your promise.”
Promise? I didn’t remember making a promise. She’d interrupted our foreplay and caught me like a deer in headlights with my erection stuck in her daughter’s tight pussy. Only Marci’s short bunny helper skirt hid the deed.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“You told me you were practicing with Marci for your Santa Claus portrayal. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten.” Long and firm. “Yes, of course, Santa.”
“Well, I was just calling to make sure. I’m in charge of preparing your schedule of appearances. You’ll use the suit we purchased a couple of years ago. It’s been freshly cleaned, not like that Easter Bunny outfit. Pheeew, it stunk to high heaven. I don’t know how you tolerated it.”
Fucking her daughter while wearing it helped. “Thanks for the reminder, Mrs. Blanton.”
“Betty. You’ll pick it up from Loretta Gunford. Her husband played Santa last year.”
Loretta was Sally’s mother. I’d met her the night I’d violated Sally’s friend Ruthie. Small, tight Ruthie. My erection didn’t fade, then or now.
“Right, pick up the suit from Loretta. Bye.”
At least young women like Marci or Ruthie aren’t likely to show up, wanting to sit on Santa’s knee, asking for an erotic present. The crowds would help, too. This might turn out okay, without incident.
“I’m off the phone, Anna,” I shouted.
“Thanks, Dad,” she called back.
“Who was that?” my wife Harriet asked.
“Betty Blanton, Marci’s mother, reminding me I’d volunteered to be Santa this year.”
“You did? I don’t remember that. Well, maybe I’ll get what I want this year for a change.”
She ran her hand up between my legs. She smiled at what she found. Did she think I was responding to her?
“Harriet! What if Anna walked in?”
“Oh, she probably knows more than we think.”
Yes, and some of it she learned from me during the Betty Boop incident. “You’re probably right.”
The phone rang again. It was useless to try and get to it before Anna.
“Daddy! It’s for you again. Since when are you so popular? Hurry, huh?”
“Okay, sweetie.” I grabbed the instrument I’d just put down. “Hello?”
“Harvey, this is Loretta Gunford. You remember me, I hope?”
Who could forget her flick of my belt buckle?
“Of course I remember. What can I do for you?” Or to you?
“I have the Santa suit ready for you. And, need a favor. Could you come over this evening? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Uh, sure. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Harvey.”
“Now what?” asked my wife.
“Loretta Gunford, Sally’s mom, wants me to pick up the Santa suit now.”
“What’s her hurry? Oh, you might as well get it over with.”
#
Scene Two
I make the quick trip and parked in an empty driveway. Loretta met me at the door.
“Thanks for coming, Harvey.”
“Sure thing.” I followed her swaying hips into the living room. A large box overflowed the edges of the coffee table. She sat down on the loveseat, so I joined her. Her blouse was half unbuttoned and her skirt slid up on her thighs as she crossed her legs.
“Do you want to try the suit on? To make sure it fits?”
“Nah, it’s just a matter of figuring out how many pillows to make up the difference. You said something about a favor?”
Loretta leaned back. Her skirt slid higher, exposing the dark color at the tops of her pantyhose. Her black bra was in clear sight, supporting a nice pair.
“I don’t know where to begin.” She wiggled around on the short couch, pulling her skirt even higher. “I know what you did that night, when you watched Sally and Ruthie.”
“You do?” Those kids! I never should have trusted them to keep their mouths shut. I was going to jail for sure.
“Yes, and I was relieved. For some reason, I couldn’t do it myself.”
How was Loretta going to take Ruthie’s cherry? Was she a man in drag? I looked close at her crotch for a bulge. No sign.
“Sally told me that your sex talk with them really helped.”
Talk?
“Oh, I’d gone over the basics with Sally, birds and bees stuff. But Sally told me you talked to them about technique in a way I’ve never been able to. You really made an impression.”
Yeah, about eight inches deep. “Well, I’m glad you’re not angry. Some parents would be, you know?”
“On the contrary. I need for you to do it again.”
“Again? But they already heard the, uh, lesson.”
“My niece Christina. She’s a hard case, that one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Somehow, Lord knows why, she’s become a conservative, Bible-toting introvert. She’s missing out on her youth, for Christ’s sake! Someone needs to do something. My sister Irene is at her wit’s end. I thought that you might give it a try, seeing as how receptive the girls were to you that night.”
Receptacle was more like it.
“So, what do you say? You can come by to drop off the suit after your last appearance. I’ll make sure we’re out to dinner and Christina is home alone. That won’t be tough. She doesn’t celebrate the holidays and is a vegetarian. So will you, please?”
Loretta uncrossed her legs, leaned forward and put one hand on each of my knees. I looked directly into her deep cleavage, then scanned down. The skirt was useless as a covering, retreated to her upper hips. “I’ll be very appreciative.”
As I studied her face, she licked her lips. Her hands moved up my legs towards my solid erection.
“Afterwards, maybe you could tell me about those techniques. Arthur isn’t very good about those things.”
Just as I started to raise my hands and take her demanding breasts into my hands, I heard a door open.
“Ma, I’m back.” It was Sally.
Loretta quickly sat back, pulled down her skirt and fumbled with her buttons. I pulled the costume box into my lap.
“Oh hi, Mr. Marcus. What’s in the box?”
“I’m playing Santa this year.”
“Great! I’ll come by and sit on your lap.”
If you do, I’ll cum.
“You’re a little too old for that sort of thing.” said Loretta.
“You’re never too old to believe in Santa Claus,” Sally responded. In a flash, she was gone.
“I guess we’re done. Thanks in advance for talking with Christina. I’m sure you’ll make a difference.”
“Just how into the Bible is she?”
“Oh, she’s quoting it all the time. Seems everything anyone says has a relevant Bible passage. Really gets on my nerves!”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And, Harvey, afterwards, I’d like to say thank you personally.”
#
Scene Three
I sat in a large wooden chair in a stuffy Santa’s house, finishing up an exhausting shift with an infinite line of young children, all of whom wanted the latest and greatest toys that had been pitched to them on TV. I almost knew the names by heart, names that were anonymous the day before. It was just about closing time. My elf helper, a young man embarrassed to be wearing tights and pointed shoes, was about to shut the door when two females entered, in matching lamb shearling-lined suede vests over frilly white blouses, short pink ruffle skirts, and black patent leather shoes.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” said my elf.
If it hadn’t been for the older companion, I would have agreed with the elf and shooed them away.
“Ho, ho, ho, I can see these last two.”
“But Santa, I have to get to, uh, the toy workshop.” The elf tapped on his watch.
“Ho, ho, I can close up. Go on, and let the other elves know I’m counting on them to keep all the promises I made today. Ho, ho, ho!”
My elf departed without hesitation.
“Come here and sit on Santa’s knee.” I hoped the older one would take me up on my offer. The young girl, probably five or six, eagerly approached. I helped her up.
“And what is your name?”
“Allison.”
“And have you been a good girl, Allison?”
“Oh yes, Santa. Very good. Haven’t I, Tara?”
Tara, her older twin, was in her teens. With the short skirt and make-up, it was difficult to be precise.
“Yes, you have, Allison. Now tell Santa what you want. We’re already late to meet Mom,” Tara said.
So they were sisters. Allison leaned over and whispered a familiar doll’s name in my ear. Not very imaginative, but consistent with the day’s requests.
“Ho, ho, ho, I’ll order an extra shift so I don’t run out.”
I lifted Allison from my knee. She ran over to her older sister. I started to stand.
“Your turn, Tara,” said Allison.
