by Danielle Lux
I lined my fat cock head up with her cunt, resting it on her vagina lips. She took a deep, nervous breath, looking down at my cock with wide eyes.
“Fuck that looks big,” she muttered. “Have you got a condom?”
“I’ll pull out,” I said. “I promise.”
Of course, I had no intention of doing any such thing. I had two full balls to empty, and I wanted to unload them inside a nice warm cunt.
“Make sure you do, you big dick bastard,” she said. “I’m not on birth control, and the last thing I need is to be an eighteen-year-old mom.”
I thrust into her, parting her slopping wet lips with my glans.
“Fuuuuuuucccck!” she screamed.
I plunged the rest of my shaft in, right down to the balls—stretching her cunt walls with my fat girth. Amy reached round and scratched her nails down my back.
Then I started pounding her: slamming my cock in and out of her tight eighteen-year-old vagina, bobbing my hairy ass up and down.
Amy was yelling and screaming like a crazy woman, her cries echoing into the night sky.
“OH SANTA YOU’RE SO BIG! SO BIIIIIIG! OH MY FUCKING GOD!”
Her hairless cunt felt so good, gripping my cock like a soggy fist. I rolled her over so she was on top, and she started bouncing, her massive boobs bouncing up and down as she rode me. I reached up with my big hands and squeezed them, pinching her nipples between my fat fingers.
“YOUR DICK IS AMAZING, SANTA!” she screamed. “IT’S SO FUCKING BIG!”
We fucked all over the sleigh, using every hole. Amy’s asshole was even more lovely and tight than her pussy. She screamed uncontrollably as I stuffed my cock meat into her sphincter. Her asshole was gaping by the time I’d finished, but I still hadn’t cum: I wanted to save that for her pussy.
When I started to feel the beginnings of my orgasm, I laid Amy onto her back and fucked her missionary style again. I wanted to see her face when I came, to see her eyes go wide when she realized that I wasn’t going to pull out after all—that I was going to unload the contents of my ballbag into her unprotected vagina.
“I’m gonna cum,” I said, gritting my teeth. My huge balls were slapping against her ass as I pounded her with all my might.
Amy was loving it, her eyes rolling into the back of her head so I could only see the whites.
“Make sure… you pull… out!” she gasped. I felt her cunt walls squeeze my shaft as she came, and suddenly I was cumming too.
“HO HO HOOOOOOO!!!” I roared, as i spurted thick, hot man milk into Amy’s unprotected pussy. “MEEEEEERRRY CHRISTMAS!!!”
I don’t know why I said that, to be honest. I think it was the sudden delight at finally being able to blow my two-day-old load.
A look of horror appeared on Amy’s face.
“No no no no no!” she whimpered, sounding like a little girl again. “I told you not to finish inside me! You promised you wouldn’t!”
“That’s what you get… for being on the naughty list,” I grunted, enjoying the feeling of the last spurts of cum leaving my cock
Amy pushed me off her, my softening cock leaving her pussy with a satisfying wet plop. She sat up and started to squeeze her vagina and tummy, trying to force my cum out of her. Her cunt was gaping after the big dick fucking I’d given it, so big dollops of semen soon came seeping out. But even Amy, with her limited grasp of biology, seemed to know it was too little too late.
“Why?” she sobbed, big tears running down her cheeks. “Why couldn’t you just pull out?”
I checked my watch. Shit, I was running very late now. I slipped my cock back into my boxers and started buckling up my pants. If I could quickly drop Amy back home, I might still be able to get back on schedule.
But then I checked the sat nav and my heart fell. The reindeer had taken us miles away from Amy’s home town. I checked my watch again—there was no way I had time to take her back.
“Get your clothes on,” I told her. “I’m going to have to drop you off here.”
I brought the sleigh down to the ground, landing it in a deserted snowy street in the middle of a village.
“Where are we? she said, slipping her clothes back on, her amazing breasts once again hidden by her tight top. “You can’t leave me here. I want to go home!”
Her eyes were red with tears now. I felt sorry for her, but I had a job to do—I couldn’t let all the good boys and girls of the world go without presents for the sake of some brat. No, she’d been a naughty girl this year, and this was her punishment. At least that’s how I justified it to myself.
“Sorry little girl,” I said, gently pushing her off the sleigh, “Santa has a lot of presents to deliver tonight.”
“But this isn’t my home!” said Amy, her eyes welling with tears. Suddenly she started shivering, no longer protected by the sleigh’s magic. “I don’t even know where I am!”
I glanced at the sat nav.
“Germany,” I said. “Only about forty miles or so from Berlin.”
“Germany!” she wailed. “You can’t leave me here!”
I did feel a bit guilty, leaving her alone in the cold, so I had a quick check of my list.
“You see that red house over there?” I said. “A very nice family called the Schmidts live there. They have three children on the good list, so I’m sure they’ll take care of you, help you to get home safely.”
“But I’m in fucking Germany! I live in Florida!”
“Ho Ho Ho!” I yelled, pulling on the reigns. “Merry Christmas!”
And off the sleigh flew into the night, leaving Amy shivering below.
I’m not a complete monster: while making my deliveries I checked my magic telescope, to make sure the Schmidts let Amy in. She’d have a job explaining to them and her parents what happened, but at least she was safe. And, more importantly, my balls were finally drained.
It was only when I got back to the North Pole that I realized I’d forgotten to give Amy a present. Aw well, I thought, I’d have to give her something extra special next year.
Christmas Day is always a big celebration in the North Pole. For all my wife’s faults, she makes an amazing Christmas dinner, and it’s the one day of the year I give the elves off.
By late afternoon, Mrs Claus had fallen asleep in front of the TV. I was full of turkey and quite drunk from all the sherry we’d drunk, but I was feeling horny as well. I made my way through the snow to the tiny cobbled streets of the elf village. It was like something out of a postcard, with beautiful lights, snowmen and a big Christmas tree in the middle of the village green.
I knocked on a door, and a middle-aged elf with a bald patch opened it.
“Mr Claus!” he said, both surprised and terrified. “It’s, er, so good to see you, sir. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Carl,” I said. “Is your daughter in? I’d like to speak with her.”
“Tilly?” he said. “What do you want to speak to Tilly abou—”
Suddenly his face went pale as he realized what I really wanted with his daughter.
“Sir, Please, Tilly is only eighteen, She’s a good girl—”
“I want to speak to Tilly,” I said, in a voice that told Carl that this wasn’t up for debate.
He disappeared, and a minute or so later the female elf that my wife had made cry came to the door.
“Mr Claus,” she said nervously, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, Tilly. I wanted to apologize for yesterday. For when Mrs Claus made you cry.”
“Oh, it’s my fault,” she said.
“No it’s not,” I told her. “You did nothing wrong. You’re a beautiful, kind girl, and you deserve better than that.”
“You think I’m… beautiful?” she said, blushing. Her smile was adorable.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” I said. “A nice Christmas walk.”
As Tilly and I walked off down the path, I looked round and saw Carl peering sadly through the window—pain
fully aware of what was about to happen.
Five minutes later, Tilly and I were kissing in one of the empty workshops.
“Oh Santa,” she gasped, “rubbing one of her little elf hands up and down my shaft. “I want you.”
“I want you too,” I said, unbuttoning her tiny green shirt.
“But please be gentle,” she said, “this is my first time.”
“I will be,” I lied.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’ll pull out. I promise.”
A year later I found myself climbing down Amy’s chimney once more. At first I didn’t recognize the house—when you deliver to over a billion houses in a year everything gets a bit blurry—but I realized where I was when I saw Amy standing by the Christmas tree, arms crossed and looking furious.
“Ho Ho Ho, hello little girl!”
“Don’t you ‘hello little girl’ me!” she snarled. “Do you know how long it took me to get back from Germany last year? You left me stranded there on Christmas Day!”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, my child.”
“And you can stop with that whole jolly Santa act as well!” she snarled. “There's a baby upstairs who’s never seen his daddy—your baby!”
Oh shit.
“Well, I’d better be going,” I said. “Here’s your presents.”
I handed her a pile of gifts.
“These are all for my brother,” Amy said. Suddenly her fury was gone and she looked upset.
I checked my list.
“It says here you’re on the naughty list,” I told her. “For having a child outside wedlock.”
“What?” she said. “But that was your fault!”
“Ho Ho Ho,” I said, quickly running for the chimney. “Have a Merry Christmas!”
Amy shouted and cursed and lunged at me with a fire poker, but I was too quick for her. I clambered up the chimney, got on my sleigh and rode off into the night.
THE END
My Friend’s Big Dad
For as long as I can remember, I’d always had a thing for my friend Kate’s dad.
Unlike most men his age, such as my dad, Mr Miller kept himself in shape. He was tall with huge muscles and was very handsome, with a well-trimmed beard and a few specks of silver running through his thick black hair. He looked like a lumberjack or a wrestler, but he actually worked at a law firm. Kate had explained what her father did once, but I hadn’t really understood it.
Anyway, ever since I’d become eighteen my crush on Mr Miller had developed into something more. Often at night I’d end up touching myself, imagining him taking me in his big arms, and I’d often come up with the flimsiest excuses for going round and seeing Kate, just so I could ogle her dad.
Kate’s mum was, naturally, incredibly beautiful. Mr Miller could have had his pick of any woman, so it was only natural that Mrs Miller was drop-dead gorgeous: a former model with long legs and a huge bosom. She was really lovely as well, which just made me hate her all the more: even though she was in her forties she had a better body than me, bigger tits than me and she was married to the man I was obsessed with.
I’d heard of other girls in my year who’d had affairs with older men and married men, but I knew that my fantasies about Mr Miller would never come to anything. From the stories I’d heard, most of the men who chose to cheat on their wives with eighteen-year-old girls were married to dried-up old women, not stunners like Mrs Miller. Why would Mr Miller ever want to cheat with a plain little girl like me?
So I stuck with my fantasies, accepting that that was all they would ever be: fantasies in my head. However, I couldn’t have been more wrong…
For her eighteenth birthday, Kate chose to have a sleepover, inviting me and a few other close friends.
“Aren’t you girls a bit old for sleepovers?” my mom asked as I was getting my stuff ready.
“You know Kate,” I told her, “she’s very young for her age.”
“Oh, and you’re the mature one are you?” my dad joked, sticking his head round the door.
“More mature than you!” I said, throwing a pillow at him.
My dad smiled, catching the pillow.
“I would have thought David Miller would have made her have a dinner party or something like that,” my dad said. David was Mr Miller’s first name—though to me he’d always been Mr Miller. “He likes to think he’s so sophisticated, with all his fancy cars and posh clothes.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” my mom teased.
“Why would I be jealous of David Miller?” my dad asked.
“Well,” said my mom, smiling, “because he’s gorgeous, rich, has a great sense of style, went to Harvard… should I go on?”
My dad threw the pillow at her.
“Very funny,” he said, grinning. “You have a good sleepover, darling,” he said to me. “Just make sure you pour water on David’s suede shoes when he’s not looking, take him down a few pegs.”
I smiled, pretending to enjoy my dad’s joke, but really I was anxious. It had been a long time since I’d stayed the night at Kate’s, and the thought of sleeping in the same house as Mr Miller gave me butterflies in my stomach. It was stupid, I know—the chances were that I’d barely see Mr Miller all night, but it made me nervous nonetheless. Everything about Mr Miller made me nervous.
Kate only lived five minutes walk away, but I still got there forty minutes later than I was supposed to. I’d just been so anxious about what to wear and how to look. It was only a sleepover, so I couldn’t exactly wear a fancy dress, but I didn’t want Mr Miller to see me in in scruffy pajamas either. I settled upon wearing a pair of comfy shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. That way I could still show off my legs, but I didn’t look like I was making too much effort. I put on a bit of makeup too, but only a tiny amount.
Kate’s mom opened the door.
“Hi Amy,” she said. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you Mrs Miller,” I said, feeling my cheeks glow red.
“Come on in, the girls are upstairs in Kate’s room, watching a film.”
I went upstairs, but as I reached the landing I almost bumped into someone—Mr Miller.
“Sorry, I’m sorry!” I mumbled. I felt my cheeks glowing red again. Mr Miller was dressed in jeans and a shirt, his top two buttons open, teasing his muscular hairy chest underneath. God he was gorgeous. I stood there like an idiot, looking up at all six foot something of him.
“It’s ok, Amy,” Mr Miller laughed. “No need to be nervous. I won’t bite.”
“Ha, er, thanks,” was all I could think to say. My face must have been bright red by now. Why did I have to be so awkward around him?
I walked down the hall towards Kate’s room, but just before I opened the door I looked round—and saw Mr Miller at the top of the stairs, watching me. I quickly turned away, but there had been a strange look in his eyes that I couldn’t work out.
He must be angry at me, I thought sadly.
The night proceed like a normal sleepover, with move watching, gossip and lots of snacks. At one point the other girls teased Kate about how hot her dad was, but I just kept quiet. I didn’t trust myself not to say something I’d regret. Eventually all the other girls drifted off, but I couldn’t get to sleep, replaying in my head how I’d made a fool of myself in front of Mr Miller.
I got up to go to the toilet, hoping I’d be able to sleep better after having a pee. All the lights in the house were off, but I managed to find my way down the corridor with the light from the moon out of the windows.
I sat on the toilet, thinking miserable about Mr Miller, about how perfect Mrs Miller was and how I was just a silly girl. Then I washed my hands, and left the toilet—and walked right into someone. I was so surprised that I was going to scream, but someone but a big hand over my mouth. It was Mr Miller!
Mr Miller backed me into the toilet and locked the door. He had a look on his face, the same one he’d
had earlier at the top of the stairs.
“I’m sorry, Mr Miller,” I whispered, “I wasn’t looking where I was going, I—”
He raised a finger to his lips and I fell silent.
Then he dropped his pants.
My mouth fell open. Mr Miller was standing there, his pants and boxers around his ankles, the biggest, fattest snake of a cock swinging between his legs. And it wasn’t even hard!
I looked up at his face. Was this a joke? Was I dreaming? He just put his finger to his lips again, and moved towards me.
“You… you want me to…” I thought I knew what he wanted, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. Surely this was just all some big practical joke?
He nodded.
I got down on my knees. I felt like I was in a trance. Mr Miller’s cock was ridiculously huge, a thick piece of meat that almost reached his knees.
I put a hand around it, marveling at the way my fingers couldn’t even touch around his girth. It was so heavy too, and soon started to grow in my hand, getting longer and thicker and harder. I let go and it slapped against the front of his nightshirt. I reached for it again and started to jack it off, with one hand to begin with, then a second one of top of the first. If I’d had more hands there would have been room for three of them!
Mr Miller groaned, the first noise he’d made since our little midnight rendezvous had begun. I pulled his cock down and began kissing it.
I’d only ever given one blowjob before, to Billy Mathersford, a guy my age I’d dated for a while back in high school, but his cock had been tiny compared to Mr Miller’s gargantuan rod.
My only knowledge of how to suck a cock had come from the few things Billy had taught me and from gossiping with my friends, so I had no idea if I was doing the right thing—but Mr Miller was making all the right noises, so it looked like I was doing a decent enough job.
After kissing along his ridiculously long shaft and doing my best to suck on his balls, I moved my head back up and started to suck, taking as much of Mr Miller into my mouth as I dared. I tried to deepthroat him, but only managed to get a little over half way before I started gagging and had to take his cock out of my throat before I puked.