Her First Noel

“God, that’s fucking hot.” I take her in, laying back on the table, spread for me, waiting as I step forward and grip her legs, yanking her down to the edge of the table toward me.

“Fuck me, Santa. I mean Daddy. Santa Daddy.” She whispers and I nearly let my load go right there.

I grab my cock and slap it on her pussy a few times as she hisses. Her wetness is already leaking out, coating my shaft as I smack it against her clit.

“Santa’s going to fuck you, alright. Naughty girl, teasing me. Santa’s going to fuck a special gift right into that naughty pussy, you know that?”

She nods and I grab one knee, pushing it outward as I press the tip of my cock to her soaking opening.

“Wet little girl. Visions of Santa’s cock must be dancing in your head…”

“And his mouth, his fingers…pretty much any part of him makes me wet.”

I part her folds and slide into her in one smooth motion. She’s still tight, but so wet she takes all of me in one drive forward.

When she starts to scream, I reach down and press my hand over her mouth, bringing the index finger on my other hand to my lips. “Shhhhhh, it’s our little secret, naughty little Holly.”

Her head falls back as I slide in and out. Her pussy is snug and hot, and I’m soon balls deep, the table knocking against the wall as I fuck her without mercy.

She whimpers into my hand and her face twists in pain, but soon the look changes and she’s arching her tits up. Her pussy grips my cock as her hands fly out to hold onto my forearms, her eyes wide in a silenced mewl.

“Santa’s going to slide down the chimney tonight and get some more of your cookies and milk.” I reach up with my other hand and squeeze her tit. “I’m going to sleep with my cock inside you tonight. All the other children are going to be disappointed when there are no presents for them. Your pussy is going to ruin Christmas for everyone else. You’re such a naughty girl, making Christmas all about you.”

Her legs wrap around my ass and I let her mouth go. She gasps a breath, then hisses: “Never stop fucking me, Santa.”

“Santa won’t. You’re my special naughty girl.”

There’s a knock at the door. “You okay in there?” Victor’s voice comes through.

“Yes.” I bark. “Be out in a minute.”

I wait a moment and there’s silence, so I lean down and whisper into Holly’s ear. “I’m not coming without you. Your pussy needs to milk the cum out of me. Your special gift from Santa is waiting.”

I grit my teeth as I thrust forward hard, feeling the limits of her body against the tip of my dick. My balls start to heave.

“Santa.” She yelps and I cover her mouth again as her orgasm rips through her at the same time as I let loose.

She twists in frantic release and I feel her screams against my hand as waves of my own orgasm shake me to my core, making me buck against her as I coat her insides with jets of my seed.

I hover over her, both of us gasping and panting, our eyes locked together as her thighs tremble and I wonder how I got so fucking lucky. I know she’s too sweet and young for me but I don’t give a shit. I’m keeping her.

Letting my hand go from her mouth, I see a smile so bright my heart heaves in my chest.

“Am I still on the naughty list, Santa?” She licks her lips and I lean down and kiss her softly, pulling out to see white cream dripping from her opening.

“You’re on all my lists, Candy Cane. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I pull her panties back up, stand her on the floor until she’s steady, and then put my cock away.

“You okay?”

She nods. “I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine.” I kiss her forehead. “I asked if you were okay. Let’s go get some lunch.” I pull her dress back into place, then run my hand down her hair.

“You going to go as Santa?”

I nod. “Can’t break character now.”

I get dressed and we go out the back door of the shop, walking down a short alley onto the small downtown strip.

“There’s Palmetto’s. They have good food.” I reach down and hold her hand, but she jerks away. “What?”

“Someone might see us.”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t give a shit. Who are we hiding from? It’s not like I’m married or you’re under eighteen.”

“I know, it’s just…this is a small town and people know you, and my dad. I don’t want to ruin Christmas.”

“Come on. We’re more important than Christmas.”

With some hesitation, she lets me take her hand, and we make our way down half a block to the restaurant, taking a table by the window. I’m wearing the get up, minus the beard and mustache because eating with that on would be impossible.