I never expected that this is how things would go when I pulled that little prank on him. I just wanted to know that I mattered to him.
Now, I really know the answer to that!
Mrs. Fertile Claus
Book Themes:
Cheating, Cuckolding, Exhibitionism, Breeding, Creampies, and Impregnation
Word Count:
4,478
Mrs. Claus.
That’s all they ever know me by, as if I wasn’t a person with wants and needs and desires. Every Christmas, it’s the same thing. My husband works way too much, and I never get to see him, and I’m expected just to smile. To be cordial and polite.
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.