by Candy Quinn
Well fuck that!
I’m a person too, damn it.
Oh, sure, I’ve talked to him about it before. About having a little elf of our own, about maybe not spending so much time in the barn with the Reindeer, but he won’t listen to me. He always says it’s not the right time.
But I’m not getting any younger!
I’m actually the third Mrs. Claus, as well. He wanted someone younger this time, but maybe he didn’t anticipate that the young are going to want to have fun.
And so, as Santa slumbers, I tiptoe out of our shared room with the separate beds, and into his study. I know just where he keeps his list, after all. It’s not as though he’s ever felt he had to hide anything from his little wife.
And so, my finger traced down the naughty list until I found the guy that I knew could make my sleigh bells ring.
T’was the night before Christmas, and Santa’s a louse. Doesn’t see me at all, naked ‘round the house. So I tiptoe instead, into Mr. Frost’s bed...
Mr. Frost was not a poor man, far from it! He ran a very lucrative business that raked in millions for him. Yet as fortunate as he was, with his penthouse apartment in New York, he had left a trail of unwed mothers in his wake from there to Singapore.
A big man, well over six feet tall, and in good shape from his personal gym overlooking the city. He was also packin’ some potent seed in some rather stunning male equipment. Not even the pill managed to save a couple ladies he’d been with from bearin’ Mr. Frost’s bastard progeny.
So it was on that December evening, he was getting ready to head on out for another night on the town, to find some hot lil’ lady and leave her panting, worn and pregnant as usual.
Call it a fetish of his, if you would. Regardless, that’s what got him on Mrs. Claus’ list.
I stopped him at the elevator, just as he’d arrived in the lobby. I was dressed in white and red with a scandalously short skirt and breasts that defied gravity — my personal pride and joy. Santa wanted his new wife young, so I was only 20 years old, and already in dire need of someone to stuff my stocking.
“Hey, handsome,” I purred from between my ruby lips, my emerald eyes sparkling at him with some magic as I looked him up and down. “You must be Mr. Frost.”
There’d be no denying that his interest was stoked. I was exactly his type, with those ample breasts and hips, that tucked waist, and round rear. The naughty list was incredibly detailed.
“Well look at you,” he remarked, with a big smile upon his broad, handsome face. The sort of grin that made ladies knees quiver. He ran his hand back over his long blonde hair, eying me up and down rather shamelessly.
“Hey,” he said, arching a brow and looking faux-suspicious and offended. “Did somebody open my presents early and you escaped? Because you look like exactly what I was wishin’ for this year,” he said in that rich, velvety voice of his.
My hand went to his chest, pushing him back into the elevator, my long legs scandalously bared but for the thigh-highs that complimented the white fluff at the bottom of my red dress. I licked my lips, and for a moment, wondered if maybe he thought one of his buddies bought him a hooker for the holidays.
It made me smile, even as I pushed the elevator button to bring them right to his private floor.
“The weather outside is frightful, love. You don’t wanna go outside tonight.”
Mr. Frost couldn’t help but grin at my brazenness as the elevator took them back up to his private floor. But despite it all he reached over, and unlocked the door.
“But I was so hopin’ to make some lucky ladies Christmas a white one,” he said, looking me over, arms reaching out and helping himself to grasping my ass. Such a naughty boy he was. “If I’m gonna stay in, I’ll need some special company,” he remarked in a deep husk that was almost a growl.
“Lucky you, then,” I giggled, backing into his penthouse apartment. Oh, all the naughty things he had to do to get it, to get his millions. But I wanted a bad boy. Santa was as good as they came, and couldn’t ever be naughty. I figured that was just him paying lip service at our nuptials.
I wasn’t wearing panties beneath my dress, but I was wearing a rather fabulous bra, and I licked my lips. “Though I’m still torn on what I want for Christmas,” I pouted.
“There’s so many choices, after all. A nice pearl necklace... Some snowballs... A cream pie? But I’ve been told that I’m not going to get anything, because I’ve been a very, very bad girl,” I finished, nodding my head glumly.
“Well you’re in luck,” he said to me as he followed me into his penthouse, the lights coming on around us automatically. “I specialize in bad girls, and giving them exactly what they need,” he declared, pursuing me on in with that hungry, lusty look to his face. He was a predator!
“Starting with a nice stiff… drink,” he remarked, veering off towards the bar, where all the makings of eggnog awaited him.
I followed after him in my towering stilettos, my long legs carrying me easily. I knew I was pretty hot, when I wanted to be, and when I wasn’t bundled up in a parka. Santa had good taste, if nothing else.
I licked my lips as I watched him pour up the eggnog with a hefty dose of bourbon in it, glancing around his expansive apartment. It was nice. Too nice for one bachelor, but I wasn’t going to complain.
“No cookies left out for Santa?”
“Well, y’see the thing is,” he offered me the drink, taking a sip of his own eggnog, “I kinda like to save all the delicious treats for myself.” And then he gave a rather pointed, randy look to me that made it quite clear what sort of cookies and treats he had in mind.
“You’re a damn tasty lookin’ treat as is, aren’t ya?” he remarked with a smack of his lips, walking back around the bar to lean against it and size me up.
I took my drink, sipping it with a prolonged look at him over the rim of my glass, my emerald eyes still sparkling with sugar plum fairies.
“Mmm, you have no idea,” I said seductively, licking around the rim of my mouth as I stared at him, my hand once more going to his chest. “I’m made of sugar, spice, and everything oh-so-nice.”
He looked me over again, and just couldn’t seem to take it. With a shake of his head he gave a deep laugh that shook his rock-hard chest beneath my hand.
“Just who sent you anyhow? Was it Mr. Betrand? Or was it—” his look shifted, and he downed the rest of his drink, laying it aside on the bar before he stripped off his jacket. “You know what? Never mind. Who gives a fuck? You look like a party girl who’s ready to make her lord cum, am I right?”
“Mhm,” I said, fingers running along his chest, feeling him out. “But I’ve been a naughty little girl. You might have to punish me first. My husband doesn’t know I’m with you.” I grinned, though. Santa had to know. He knew everything, and if he really wanted to, he could help.
But he’d picked me to be his bride for a reason. He picked me from the naughty list, after all.
He looked down at me steadily as he reached to his belt, unbuckling the fine Italian leather instrument and pulling it from its hoops around his waist. He reached to my hands and guided them to the bar as he got around behind me.
“Stay right there,” he said firmly, using his foot to guide my heels apart. “Don’t move, or else your lashings are gonna have to get worse, huh?” He said so saucily, snapping the leather together in threat that made me twinge with the threat of what was to come.
He lifted my skimpy little skirts, and the first smack of that black leather came fast and hard across my two ass cheeks. A loud crack that filled his spacious apartment.
Even I was surprised at the spark, the jolt that went through me.
Oh, yes!
I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this. My legs spread, my shaved pussy peeking at him as I bent over. I could already feel myself growing wet, the silver bells tingling behind my gaze. It was sublime, and I pushed my round ass towards him, increased punishment be damned!
“You a
re a very, very naughty girl,” he remarked, eying my bare slit with such lust. “No wonder you ended up at my door,” he whipped my ass again, the leather lancing pain across both cheeks as he followed it up with another. Then another.
“Mm, no,” he began, licking his lips as his black pants tented with arousal. “Only way a naughty girl like you is getting a present this Christmas is by being even naughtier still.”
And oh, I so wanted to unwrap his package. Even on the naughty list it was supposed to be legendary, and even as I cried out from the lashings, I was getting wetter. So wet. Thoughts of him pushing that cock into me started dancing in my head, making me moan so lewdly.
My ass was already turning red, the strips of his belt leaving their kiss against my flesh.
He ran his palm over my stinging ass, feeling out the heat that had only grown with his lashings. He licked his lips and landed a spank there, adding to the heated pain that ran through my flesh.
“What a red little ass you’ve got now. Let’s hope it lights our way tonight, huh?” He said, letting his fingers curl down to slide over my puffy cunny lips, feeling the slick warmth that had built up over that scandalously bare slit.
I let out a little squeak, my body writhing as I tossed my brown hair over my shoulder so I could look at him. Watch his face as he fingered me, teasing out more and more of that sweet juice as I took another sip of my eggnog, licking my upper lip free of the white taint.
And then he moved his hand upwards, landing another spank on my ass, the crack resounding through the apartment and making my heart race.
The added wetness of my pussy to his fingers made that last smack sting even more, but down he went again, to rub at my cunt so lewdly. He was as shameless as I, and he licked along his lips with excitement.
“Mmm, yeah. You’re definitely a naughty girl… I’m afraid there’ll be no condoms for you this year,” he said as he retracted his hand and sucked my honey from those fingertips right before he began to undo his pants, letting that bulging manhood jut out through his boxers.
“Oh, but I’m not on the pill,” I cooed, but I knew he wouldn’t bow to my resistance. I’d barely even managed to take back half of my eggnog, but my head was light, and I could barely think straight. I was drunk on the prospect of his cock, of him going to town on my fertile cunny.
He smacked his hand across my ass again, rougher this time and it made me cry out. His hand’s imprint left on my cheek as he then discarded his belt entirely and dropped his boxers, letting that big beast of a cock spring forth. And oh boy! It was going to be a merry Christmas after all, because that was the biggest and best present I could have ever asked for.
“Well then, a lump of coal is the least of your worries, isn’t he?” he retorted at last, that big, beefy dick throbbing behind me. Its prominent veins jutting out as he got in behind me and slapped that hefty dick against my cunt.
I was glad that I was at least stirring his loins tonight, and I arched my body towards him, wanting more than anything for him to shove his north pole in me. I looked over my shoulder at him, biting down on my lower lip as I purred.
“You’ve been such a naughty boy. Santa’s definitely going to pass your house over tonight,” I said with a grin. I knew my husband wouldn’t catch me.
Whatever other plans he had for that evening were put on hold, because it was me who was raising his Christmas tree. And oh! What a yule log it was!
When he sank that pole into me, I finally knew what it was like to feel true Christmas cheer! He spread me open so wide to accommodate that raw girth, I felt like I might break. But I didn’t, my wet little cunny stretched taut around his thick shaft, and I was moaning loud as he began to pump his powerful hips, rocking into me.
The sounds of his groin striking my thick ass cheeks became like the backbeat of some drums. He was my big drummer boy that night.
I pressed my ass into him, moaning and writhing along his meaty shaft, my head dipping forward. Each thrust sent my breasts upwards, and I was teetering in my heels, but oh sweet bliss. I was expecting a bad boy, but oh, he was so good at it.
His body pressing against mine, thrusting into me. He was still mostly dressed, and my own outfit was merely gathered along my hips. I felt like we were fucking before a roaring fire, with how hot he was making me, and one of my fingers dipped between my legs, brushing against that sweet little gumdrop.
Those heavy, cum-laden balls of his slapped at my fingers noisily, as if trying to drive them off. But it was just the rhythmic parump of his roasting chestnuts swinging with each thrust of his dick. He was ravenous, a big beast of a man who lived to spread his seed around, and my womb was his next target.
He had strong, hard hands that grasped my waist, and he thrust rough and fast. Spreading my wet folds open wide as he plumbed my depths with his plum-coloured crown. The sounds of his husky moans filling the air so dark and deep.
He brought his hand down on my ass with another hard crack, sending a shock through me as I cooed. He was so good at that. Making sure my mind was always in the present, fully absorbed in the sensations.
I shot a look over my shoulder, my emerald eyes still dancing even as they narrowed in warning.
“Naughty,” I purred.
“Me?” He said, sounding offended as he then plucked that big meaty shaft out of my wanting cunt, leaving me so empty, gaping and wanting. “Look who’s talking,” he said as he undid the buttons of his shirt, shedding that garment to show off his rock hard pecs and abs.
Yet it was the sight of his glistening cock, ribbed with such hard, jutting veins that stole the show and grabbed my sight.
“Unless you want a blue Christmas,” he said to me, licking his lips. “You’re gonna have to make up for your insolence. A nice dance for starters. A lil’ Christmas carol,” he remarked with a wry grin upon that handsome, cocky face of his.
He backed away from me before sinking into that plush suede sofa of his, his thick, muscular thighs spread as his heavy balls laid against them, and that big dick stood up, pointing north.
I was offended, a little bit, by my sudden emptiness. My eyes narrowed, but I stepped towards him and stood just a couple feet away. I knew how to dance. And so I started, swivelling my hips. Nice and slow, licking my lips seductively as I watched him. It was hard gazing away from his pillar, but I did manage to catch his eyes once or twice.
My hands went over my hips, tugging up my skirt, showing off my bare slit, already so pink and puffy from his fucking. I spread myself lewdly between two fingers as I crouched down before I let my hands rub up to my bra top, making the tits bounce before his eyes.
“You have a lot of bastards, don’t you, Mr. Frost?” I purred.
He had been eating up my whole display like it was Christmas dinner, but my words tore his gaze from my thick, bouncing tits. He stared into my eyes, gazing at my rather intensely as his cock bobbed before him in his lap.
“Yeah, why? You aiming to add another to the world?” he said, rubbing a hand back over his glorious, golden hair. “You might just have to get down on your knees and suck my candy cane to get that far though,” he added on with a sly smirk.
Oh, what a sickeningly sweet prospect. I kept moving, though, not yet taking his bait.
I brought my thumbs to hook into the skirt, letting it drop around my hips with a slight flourish, stepping out of it as I walked over to him. My knees pressed to either side of his hips, my breasts thrust into his face as I slowly unclasped the bra, letting the white, furry trim tickle his nose.
“We’d make the sweetest gingerbread boy,” I promised, licking over my lips.
That made his lips curl into an uneven smile, and more importantly: his dick throb. But as he watched my display, seeing my thick, heavy tits right before him he spoke — delayed a while as he buried his face in those ripe mounds to kiss and feel their smooth flesh — to me in a rough voice.
“I’ll give ya a triplets babe, but don’t go thinkin’ it’ll work to win you
any cash,” he said to me so coarsely. Such a bad boy indeed.
I looked around his huge apartment, as if considering his words, even as I gripped one of my breasts, offering my nipple up to his mouth before silencing him with my mound.
“Oh, baby, all I want is your Christmas icing on my cake,” I purred, grinding his cock between our bodies.
His eyes rolled back into his head as I stimulated his throbbing dick, and a low, rumbling groan came out betwixt his lips from that broad, well-sculpted chest of his. He grasped my hips and helped move me atop his cock, speeding up my grinding with his raw strength upon my flesh.
“Eager lil’ slut. You must be the naughtiest girl there is,” he rumbled. “Most ladies don’t come lookin’ for trouble like you do,” he said, licking his lips in anticipation, his cock spurting precum out against me and down his shaft’s length.
“You like that?” I asked breathlessly, my head dipping to his so that I could whisper in his ear, my hair tickling his cheek. “Me begging for your cum as my Christmas present? So you could have me swell up with your kiddo, never to be seen again?”
God, just saying the words made me feel wickedly good, and I licked along the outer shell of his ear.
“You want me to beg you to get me knocked up? To fuck me raw, and hard, and make this a very merry Christmas for both of us?”
“That’s right, I do,” he said so firm and hard, slapping a hand to my still red and stinging ass cheeks. “Maybe I’ll make you ride my dick and milk that virile cum right out of me, since you’re so damn desperate for it,” he said so cockily, his dick swelling and spurting more of that precum along his deep, purple tip.
Those two heavy nuts of his were ready to crack and burst a big load in me, I knew it.
“Mmm, you don’t tell most girls what a virile load you have in that sac of yours, do you?” I said, licking my lips. “You naughty, naughty boy.” I bit the lobe of his ear, tugging it gently. “But I love naughty boys with a full sleigh of presents for me.”