Katies Christmas Fuck

"Katie's Christmas Fuck"

by J.D. Savanyu

My flight finally touches down at JFK airport on a perfect Christmas eve. I'll soon be back home in Greenwich after my first semester at Oxford. I stroll right out of the first class section and onto the jetway, while many other low-class passengers have to wait in the aisles. My smart phone finally gets reception after eight hours in the atmosphere, so I immediately send a text message to my father:

Katie

: Hey Daddy, just landed in NY! Can't wait 2CU!

I sit down on a black bench in terminal eight, waiting impatiently for a reply. Hearing the dull patronizing drone of a blonde bimbo news anchor on an overhead TV. A cute twenty-something guy in a New York Rangers hockey jersey checks me out while standing in line to board a flight to Toronto. I flash my usual sweet grin at him, tossing my long golden hair like the flirty one-percenter slut I am. My phone pings a minute later:

Roger

: Can't wait 2CU either Katie. We'll have the best xmas ever.

Katie

: Does that x mean what I think it does?

Roger

: I have no idea what you think it does.

Katie

: Don't play dumb, daddy.

Roger

: What should I play instead with you?

Katie

: Any game you want. (winking face emoji)

Roger

: All righty then. (winking face emoji) I know you love surprising me, but I got a surprise for YOU tonight.

Katie

: Oh goody. Like the ghost of Christmas present, if he was a billionaire stock mogul. A sleazy forty-something Scrooge. (laughing face emoji)

Roger

: Smart ass. Stop texting and get your hot ass up here.

Katie

: Yes sir, Mister Keofferam. Byeee XOXO

I slip the phone back into my pink Prada purse, giggling loudly with a rush of arousal. I float through the terminal in a giddy haze, with a flood of memories from our six month-long incestuous adventure rushing through my mind. Every guy I see wearing a sharp business suit makes me think of Roger; hiding many perversions behind a "respectable" Wolf of Wall Street facade.

A bunch of professional drivers linger near the entrance, holding up signs with the names of their passenger clients. I find the one for "K. Keofferam," held by a guy named Jean. He leads me to a swanky town car with leather seats, and we cruise out of the airport, heading north on I-678.

The skyline of Manhattan is bathed in the flattering orange glow of twilight, eight miles to the west. Many Christmas lights gleam brilliantly in Queens, reflecting off two inches of freshly fallen snow. I gaze toward the Manhattan skyline, spotting the outline of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Pinnacle Equity Management occupies the top five floors of that art-deco masterpiece, with daddy's big corner office at the very top, facing north with a great view of the iconic skating rink.

My mind drifts back six months to a sizzling hot summer afternoon, when I took the train all the way down from the Connecticut suburbs and made a surprise appearance in Roger's office. Before I knew it, his big fat cock was sliding right down my throat. The best taboo sex we ever had, enhanced by the crazy danger of getting caught by one of his co-workers and losing his vast financial empire.

The town car crosses over the East River on Throgs Neck bridge, entering the depressing public housing tower district of the Bronx. Where the "other half" lives. The anticipation is killing me, so I pull out my phone, log onto my favorite XXX tube site, and search for "father daughter bdsm incest." The first video on the list is entitled: "Busty Barely Legal Blonde Bitch Gets Kinky with Daddy." I jam some buds into my ears and press play. A busty flaxen-haired eighteen year-old like me fills the screen, completely nude with her arms tied up against a steel bondage rack. A big picture window behind her offers a great bird's eye view of the southern end of the San Fernando valley. (The guy who owns that house must make a fortune renting it out to pornographers.)

Her father saunters into the room, wearing a black business suit. He addresses her as "Kelly" and accuses her of sneaking sips from his liquor cabinet and "sneaking around with that sleazy quarterback Billy Blake." She denies the charges, but her breaking voice and anxious body language betrays her guilt. He proceeds to whip Kelly's big tits and pussy with a thick leather slapper strap, calling his daughter a naughty fucking bitch as she shrieks in barely disguised pleasure. He finally unties her from the curtain rod, then he shoves her down against a red sofa and fucks her hard in an inverted U-shape, spanking her ass over and over. That dirty blonde keeps begging for more.

Kelly's wild bondage romp gets me so damn horny. I push a button on a small control panel in front of my seat, closing a privacy panel between the front and back sections of the town car. I hike up my $300 blue, hike down my pink $125 pink panties, and work my throbbing clit in slow circles, above my black lacy vintage stockings. Watching Kelly's father treat her like a kinky whore, and picturing my own father doing the same thing to me. I reach the edge of orgasm several times, but skillfully hold it myself back. I've been dreaming about Roger's huge dick and macho aggression for the past six months, on many cold lonely nights in a drafty gothic dorm room while my very ginger Irish roommate snored loudly nearby. Cioban O'Sullivan never suspected I was a freaky father fucker.

The huge city fades into the sprawling suburbs, with many more colorful lights gleaming off the snow of front yards with stupid gnome statues and pink flamingos. The driver turns off I-95 and swings west on Putnam Avenue in Riverside. I shoot Roger one more text:

Kelly

: I'm twelve blocks away, daddy!

Roger:

Ho ho ho! I can almost hear the bells on Santa's sleigh.

Kelly:

Can't wait to open my presents, and take off my gay apparel. (winking face emoji)

I can't believe we're about to resume our incestuous affair, after swearing to leave that immature craziness behind and "turn into a real woman." This feels like one of those bad NC-17 indie flicks where a pair of adulterous lovers keep returning to the same mountain cabin to fuck each other's brains out in front of a crackling fireplace... until the flame finally dies down. I fondly recall the 'aquaphile adventure' we had back in August, at Roger's huge retreat in the Maine boondocks. Having lots of wild sex under a waterfall, like many other stupid movies I've seen.

Jean swings off Sound Beach Boulevard and pulls up a short driveway, stopping next to Roger's kick-ass $370,000 Range Rover SV. I grab my luggage and hurry up to the front door, punching in the security code I know by heart. 3021; the February birthdays of his only child and his ex-wife Leni, who ran off to Chicago last year with another stock jockey.

I open the door, revealing a big living room decked out with garrish holiday decor. "You're a Mean One, Mister Grinch" by Boris Karloff is playing on a high-end stereo system. My eyes are drawn to a brilliantly illuminated pine tree in the southeast corner, with several gift-wrapped boxes underneath. Then my eyes are drawn to my favorite antique red velvet chair, occupied by...

"Santa Claus?"

"Ho ho ho,

Merrry Christmas

!" beams my 45 year-old father, shaking a big fake belly full of jelly underneath a standard red-and-white costume.

"Wow, this

is

a pleasant surprise," I giggle sweetly, prancing toward him like the little girl I still am at heart; trapped in a bodacious adult body.

"That's right, blondie, come sit in Santa's lap. I missed you

sooo

much, Katie-Lou Who."

"Oooh, a little Dr. Seuss reference from a Grinchy Claus," I giggle sweetly, plopping my big tight ass down on his muscular legs.

"I'm no Grinch, bitch. I'm Saint fucking Nick," he grunts indignantly. "Tell me honestly: have you been a good girl over in merry old England?"

"Hell no, Santa. I've been shagging plenty of bloke sods in the Oxford history department."

"Oh

my

," Roger chuckles deviously, twitching his big fake Santa beard. "I'm definitely putting you on my naughty list."

"But that's not the worst thing, Santa. I also committed incest with my billionaire father before I left for college. I fucked and sucked him about five hundred times!"

"God

damn

, blondie!" he exclaimed comically, with his dick getting hard against my left thigh. "You're way freakier than Mrs. Claus was, during her sorority days."

"You divorced that bitchy old bag, and now you're 'on the market' at the North Pole. I know you want to recapture your youth by banging a teen cutie like me."

"Seducing Santa Claus at work, eh? You deserve much worse than coal in your stockings, young lady. You deserve a good hard thrashing."

"Fuck yeah, Santa. Whip my ass like Donner and Blitzen."

"Ho-ho-

hooo

!" he laughs heartily, grabbing my shoulders and legs and bolting out of that vintage velvet chair. I laugh giddily as he carries me across the luxurious living room and through a library room full of rare books, including a first edition of Homer's Iliad from 1776. He swings left in the kitchen and carries me down a flight of steps to the basement, passing the large whirlpool where our illegal "relations" started on my eighteenth birthday, in the dead of winter. A little horseplay in the hot tub snowballed into hardcore aquaphile action. Our flaming passion kept raging all the way through a long hot summer on the Gold Coast. Carefully guarding our dirty secret from financial bigwigs at Roger's swanky cocktail parties.

Daddy takes me directly into his big "playroom," with a wide variety of whips, chains, ropes and bondage platforms. "Get naked, blondie. But keep those hot vintage stockings on."

"Yes sir, Mister Keofferam," I giggle, quickly removing my criminally overpriced shoes, dress, bra and panties. "Time to pay back the interest on our little 'offshore account.'"

Daddy sighs longingly at his daughter's perfect body. Goosebumps rise all over my pale flesh, despite the good heating system in our big mansion.

"Get your ass down on that cross table, you slutty little elf," he orders, pointing at a self-explanatory platform with leather buckles awaiting my wrists and ankles. I hop right on the black-painted metal, bracing myself for erotic 'punishment.' He fastens me firmly in place with his strong hands, covered with silly white gloves.

"I'm your

kinky

little elf, Santa. Making lots of naughty toys for grown-ups."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," he growls, smacking my big bare breasts and making me yelp. "Damn, those big fucking tits are making me thirsty for milk. Sit tight, I'll be right back."

Daddy marches out of the playroom and up the basement steps. I hear him rummaging about in the kitchen while gazing up at the bland white ceiling. My pussy throbs with intense desire, demanding a good hard whipping and a good hard fucking. I fucked twenty young men at Oxford over the past three months, doing BDSM with thirteen of them. But they couldn't pleasure me nearly as much as Mister Keofferam. Older men know exactly what they want, and they always do the job right.

Roger returns to the basement a few minutes later, holding a red velvet sack just like Santa on a rooftop. "Ho-ho-ho! I come bearing gifts," he chuckles, pulling out a metal jug and a box of high-end artisan cookies from a bakery in Cos Cob.

"Ooh, my favorite. Rinaldi's Chocolate Chunk Decadent Delights."

"They're Santa's favorite too," he muses, opening the carton and taking a bite. "Mmm, dee-lish. They go great with warm milk on those cold nights at the North Pole." He unscrews the lid and takes a big swig, dripping white fluid on his fake white beard.

"May I have some milk, Santa?

Pleeeasse

?" I beg adorably in bondage.

"Yes, you may... but not in your mouth."

Daddy raises the jug over my tits, and pours warm moo juice all over them.

"Oh

shit

!" I shriek in kinky delight, arching my back sharply upward, with my pink nipples rising to full mast. "God, I love how you used to do that!"

"We'll drink a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne," he remarks, aiming lower and soaking my blonde hairy crotch with warm pasteurized homogenized goodness.

"Fuck yeah, right on my pussy, Daddy!"

"Your little kitty has caused a lot of mischief," he remarks, pouring another pint on my slit. Referencing the time he came home from work and found me wearing nothing but a skimpy cat-themed bondage harness, with my private parts fully exposed. I strutted around on all fours like Bombalurina, and sucked milk off Daddy's big fat dick. Then he tied me up in a marble bathtub and had a lot more sloppy kinky food fetish fun.

"Damn, that creamy mess looks so hot on your porn star body," Roger groans. He yanks his dick out of his fluffy red pants and strokes it slowly. He grabs a cookie with his other hand, rubs it all over my milky vagina, and shoves it in his mouth.

"I wanna suck your candy cane, Mister Claus."

"Not yet, you naughty elf. You have to

earn

your dessert."

He goes over to a shelf and grabs a hose with a metal nozzle at the end. I moan gutturally, knowing exactly what he's about to do.

"Not the riot hose, daddy!" I groan, even though I always loved it.

"That's right, bitch. I'm gonna blast your ass like a sixties hippie."

He screws the other end of the hose into a water outlet above a sink, then he squeezes the metal nozzle from ten feet away, unleashing a warm powerful jet that hits my milky breasts like a liquid bullwhip. I shriek loudly, with masochistic pleasure surging from head to toe. He moves the spray off to the side for a moment, then sweeps it back in against my tits, making me shriek even louder. The milky water gurgles through a grated drain below the cross-shaped platform.

"I know you love that, Miss Keofferam.

"Fuck yeah, daddy. I'm still your dirty water bondage junkie."

Roger sweeps the spray downward, hitting my clit like a hurricane. I shudder violently on the platform, quickly reaching a massive squirting orgasm. He keeps the powerful jet trained right on my sweet spot, driving me insane with sweet pain. Just like the "old days." I always fantasized about Daddy's wet dominator routines during all those cold rainy lonely nights in Saint Edmund Hall on Queen's Lane, after studying plenty of British history.

He finally turns off the hose, leaving me moaning pathetically with rivulets streaming down my supple curves. Trembling with abject submissive lust, starving for more dark incestuous indulgence. He goes over to a shelf and grabs a black leather toy with XOXO engraved in big red letters.

"Oh god

yes

, my favorite spanking paddle! Whoop my pussy

up

, Santa!"

"I'm gonna torture your big tits first, blondie. Like all those biergarten waitresses I flirted with in Vienna."

Roger swoops right in and spanks my boobs nice and hard. I squeal theatrically, just the way he likes it. Just the way Leni used to like it; hearing her award-winning 'performances' every night through my bedroom wall. He keeps whacking my big boobies, growling fiercely with pent-up energy. The harsh stinging sensation makes me feel so alive. I inherited my heaving bosoms from my Austrian mother, along with her high pain threshold and insatiable erotic appetite.

"Come on, Daddy! Stop fucking teasing me. Punish my naughty pussy!

"Righty-o, lassie," he beams in a mock English accent. That heavy leather strap pummels my sensitive pink folds, sending shockwaves right up my spine.

"

Oh

yeah, fucking

hard

, daddy. Make me your good rich girl!"

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

"Fucking right, you filthy college bitch. That twat is still

mine

!"

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

This is the best pussywhipping I ever got from Daddy. That old cliché expression is quite true: "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

"Oh god, oh god, oooooooohWAAAAA-HA-HAAAAA!"

Another massive geyser blasts out of my urethra, hitting the black leather strap and splattering all over us. Daddy laughs proudly, with his soaked naked daughter groaning like hell.

"Holy

fuuuuuck,"

I murmur throatily. "Stop fooling around, Santa. Take off that stupid costume and fuck me

hard

!"

"Yes ma'am. Time to get down to business," he snickers, putting down the spanker and unfastening my left wrist buckle. "I'm gonna strap you into my 'sleigh,' and ride you like a reindeer."

Daddy frees me from bondage and scoops me off the cross platform, carrying me across the room to a big padded "barrel horse" with leather straps and metal loops underneath. He drapes me face-up on the curved surface, and locks my wrists and ankles into place on the metal base, stretching my lean athletic body into a tight

Urdhva Dhanurasana

pose.

"I love this yoga position. It's so energizing," I utter sweetly, watching him remove that cheap mall Santa outfit with my head pointing down. My blonde hair drapes against the concrete basement floor. He rips off that fake bowl full of jelly, revealing ripped muscles and a thick eight-inch prick. Daddy's been keeping his body in boot camp shape, and so have I. He grabs my firm hips and hawks a loogie on my dripping wet cunt, lubricating it even more.

"Hell yeah, a fresh dripping wet teen twat. Way better than Mrs. Claus' dried-up old snatch."

He slams his big stick right in, making me scream. Pounding away on his dirty blonde daughter, spanking my ass aggressively with both hands.

"Oh god, I missed your big fat cock. Fucking

break

my pussy, daddy!"

His ballsack keeps whapping against my clit, every time his rock-hard hips crash against my yoga-toned glutes. I love how his dick hammers my g-spot deep inside, with my body tilted at just the right angle for optimum stimulation.

"I'm gonna whip your ass back into shape, you disobedient sub. Teaching you way better than those 'woke' professors at Oxford."

He reaches down and spanks my breasts over and over while fucking the shit of out me. Stinging up those natural DD wonders. Drool pours out of my mouth as I groan dreamily, oozing along my upside-down face and into my long blonde hair.

"Good girl, Miss Keofferam. I wish I fucked you like this at 30 Rock. Pretending I was Jack Donaghy."

"You're way fucking better than Jack, daddy. You're the best dilf in the

world

!"

I reach two more climaxes over the next three minutes, squirting all over his pistoning prick. Mind-blowing kinky sex on my first christmas eve as a grown woman. He finally pulls out and steps to the other side of the barrel platform, gazing down at my spit-drenched face while jerking his johnson.

"Skullfuck me with that big cock, daddy."

"Don't forget your manners, Katie Lou Who. Always say the magic word."

"

Please

skullfuck me with that big cock, daddy. And cum all over my face!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Roger chuckles warmly. He gets down on his knees on the concrete, grabs my drooping golden bangs, and rams his huge rod through my pursed red lips. Gagging me right away. Daddy keeps pumping that prick right down my throat, making a lot more spittle slide down into my nose and over my big blue eyes. He smacks my cheeks lightly, and I squeal even louder against his thick penis, squirming in tight bondage with goose bumps rising all over my wet naked body.

"Thirsty for a cup of cheer, Katie-Lou?"

"Mmm-hmm," I murmur against his thrusting manhood.

"I can't hear you, blondie. Do you want my fucking cum?"