Red Handed
Tinsel sat in the chair peering at the control room speakers from between her fingers.
"Oh god. What the fuck is happening?"
A wet gurgling sound resonated in the room. In less than a minute the tiny smacks of Hope's dainty licks and kisses had turned into the wet cacophony of a ravenous deep-throating of Max's giant cock. Her jaw stretched wide to accommodate him. Spit flowed from her mouth and over his dick. She felt his thick veins running in and out over her tongue, which she did her best to curl around the underside of his shaft. When the occasional taste of pre-cum hit her lips, she mmm-ed in delight.
Max wrapped his hands around her antlers and pulled Hope into him. Unhinged moans left her vocal cords to resonate around the cockhead in her throat. He was in control now. She has never felt so used before - he had her by the horns and she loved it.
Tinsel listened.
A long series of moaning gags.
A release of the antlers.
A huge gasping breath.
Repeat.
Over and over.
When Byron and Mrs. Claus burst into the control room, Tinsel nearly fell out of her seat.
Emma's lingerie-clad body was wrapped in a robe, Byron had interrupted her just before she reached orgasm. They both stopped in their tracks at the noises flowing through the speakers.
A deep gasping breath. "Oh yes! I love your big cock! Mmmph!" Gag.
Byron and Emma turned to Tinsel in horror.
"Tinsel...are you watching porn? Are you drinking?!" yelled Emma.
"Why are you in my chair?" yelled Byron.
Tinsel fell to the floor and scrambled back to her seat leaving her eggnog behind at Byron's station. "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"
"Tinsel! What the fuck is going on?" Emma screamed.
"We were making the first delivery and then something happened!"
Byron stormed back to the desk and checked the coordinates.
"Max Flow?"
Tinsel shrugged. "Boss said he was ready. He wanted to make the coal drop first. It's an easier mission after all..."
"You just sent someone who just screamed 'guys, i have breasts' like a collegiate bimbo to Max Flow's yacht?"
Tinsel stammered. "I mean, when you put it that way it doesn't sound good, but-"
Mrs. Claus interrupted. "He has breasts?"
Byron sulked forward and pretended to turn dials. Oops.
"Byron! What the fuck is going on?"
Byron swiveled in his chair, fidgeted his hands and looked to the ceiling tiles. "We had a few unforeseen issues at launch that defied parameters set during our contingency analysis."
"Byron." Mrs. Claus rushed to stand over him. "If you don't speak English in two seconds I'm throwing you through that window."
He smiled. "I'm sorry. What I'm saying is: we will need to abandon Project Sleighless and begin financing a genetic mapping and separation project immediately."
She grabbed him hard by the collar of his green suit. "And why will we need to do that?"
Tinsel butted in. "Because Byron didn't make sure the doors were locked."