Santa's Little Helper

Santa's Little Helper By Rachel Boleyn *** A SWEET NOTHINGS PRODUCTION

Santa's Little Helper Copyright © 2011 Rachel Boleyn Cover Design by Rachel Boleyn Published by Sweet Nothings This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. The material found in this eBook contains sexually explicit situations and is intended for a mature audience only. All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.

Table of Contents

Santa's Little Helper Excerpt from Santa's Slut Excerpt from Mrs. Claus's Christmas Wish

SANTA'S LITTLE HELPER

It wasn’t that Jaime didn’t like children. They were fine when they smelled like baby powder and had clean hands and faces. They were even better when their parents were standing close by and she could easily hand them back and get on with her life. But working in town at Santa’s workshop while she was home from college for the holiday season had shown her a whole new face for children, a face that had surely caused her vibrant young ovaries to shrivel up and die inside her and she was glad! In fact, if she happened to live through Christmas, she was seriously considering checking herself into the hospital and having her tubes cut, burned and tied to spare her the trouble of ever having to hear the words, “MINE!” and “NO!” as long as she lived. Maybe that was a little harsh, she thought, glancing over at little Stacey Parker sitting on Santa’s knee. She’d cupped her tiny fingers and leaned up to whisper her Christmas wishes in the big guy’s ear, and Bruce Schuster, who’d been playing Santa in town since Jaime herself was a little girl, was eagerly nodding and smiling, the twinkle in his bright blue eyes so believable it was no wonder none of the kids ever realized who he really was. She hadn’t realized it herself until she was almost thirteen, though by that point she’d long since stopped believing in Santa Claus, but that was the year her crush on Bruce Schuster ignited, even though he was more than thirty years older than she was. He was handsome, especially when he wasn’t wearing the extra padding and red suit, but even then he was still pretty freakin’ hot! And the fact that he seemed to never lose his patience, even with the brat patrol racing through the place tipping over craft supplies and smudging their chocolate-covered fingers all over everything in sight, was a definite bonus, Jaime thought, eying him from her position next to the Christmas tree. “I swear to god, if one more of those little punks wipes their grubby little hands one me, I’m gonna seriously lose my shit,” her co-worker, April Dean huffed. “And that little shit over there better hope I never see him in a dark alley,” she pointed to DJ Bailey, her long, thin finger trembling with rage. “He crushed up half the candy canes on the table and blew them into my hair like fucking pixie dust! I have never been this sticky in my life.” “Why don’t you ask Santa if you can leave early?” Jaime suggested, tugging the garland back into place. “It is Christmas Eve and most of the parents will be coming to get their kids in the next half hour. I can make sure everything is all cleaned up by

myself.” “Seriously?” April’s spirits brightened. “That would be awesome! Let me go wait my turn to sit on Santa’s knee. Hopefully he won’t have a problem with it.” “I’m sure he won’t,” Jaime shrugged, watching the other girl strut across the workshop in her elf costume like she was on a New York City runway. April looked surprisingly hot, the short, fluffy rim of her skirt snugly hugging her thighs as she sashayed. She’d been wearing that costume day in and day out since Black Friday, and until that moment she hadn’t realized how provocative it was. Smoothing her hands down over her ass, she wondered for a moment if she looked even half as good as April in that ridiculous elf getup, but her reflection was quickly shattered by a trail of racing children headed toward the snack table. “Ho! Ho! Ho! There’s not running in Santa’s workshop!” Bruce boomed, rising from Santa’s chair across the room and patting Stacey atop her head before shooing her into the crowd. “Not even on Christmas Eve.” Jaime glanced up at the clock and saw it was just quarter ‘til four. “And speaking of Christmas Eve, don’t you think it’s time we passed out presents to all these good girls and boys so you can get ready to head back to the North Pole. We wouldn’t want to make Santa late, kids.” “Jaime’s right,” Bruce agreed with a nod. “Your parents will be coming to pick you all up very soon, so what do you say we all make a big circle around the tree so old Santa and his little helper can pass out gifts for you to take home.” With the whole lot of them wound up on sugar and holiday cheer, Jaime was surprised how quickly they fell into line, making their last forty-five minutes at work the smoothest of the year. The children suddenly became little angels, saying please and thank you as Santa and his helper passed out gift bags filled with tiny Lego sets for the boys and little dolls for the girls. When their parents began to arrive, Jaime actually found herself sad to see them go, especially when Blake Rennie ran up to give her a big hug, saying, “I hope Santa brings you everything on your wish list, Jaime,” before following his father out the door. As the last child left, she walked over and locked the door, turning back around to survey the mess. “I think I’m getting too old for this,” Bruce laughed, reaching up to take off the red

hat, white curled wig and beard that disguised his true identity. His dark grey hair was mussed and stuck up in random horns around his head, but Jaime thought it only made him look sexier. “You, too old?” she shook her head. “Hardly. And besides, there isn’t a man in this town who could play Santa even half as well as you do.” “Why thank you, Jaime.” His slow smile rose up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Even if you are just saying that so you can get out of helping clean up and head home early to spend Christmas Eve with your folks.” “Are you kidding me?” she giggled. “My folks are in Orlando for the holidays. I’ll be going home to a virtually empty house and the promise of Marie Callendar’s chicken pot pie for dinner tomorrow, so I’m here as late as you need me to be, Mr. Claus, but I’m sure you’re itching to get home too. It is Christmas Eve.” “No,” he shook his head. “I haven’t got much going on this year myself. Dana’s in Tibet, and the house feels extra lonely now that Shelly’s gone.” Jaime had almost forgotten about Mrs. Schuster’s passing. She’d died two years earlier, widowing Bruce and sending their daughter Dana halfway across the world in search of answers she’d probably never find. “Well then,” she grinned, “it looks like it’s just the two of us with no place to go. I’ll start gathering up all the garbage and get the floor swept if you want to fill the bucket so I can mop after.” “You’re a good girl, Jaime,” he said as he nodded and left her alone to start cleaning up. While she walked through the shop with a garbage bag picking up used up craft supplies, paper plates and empty juice boxes, she thought about Bruce and how lonely he must be. Even worse, it must have been real hard on him keeping Santa’s Workshop open every year for the kids, considering he and his wife had started the business together shortly after they’d married twenty-five years earlier. She glanced across the shop and watched him draw the bucket into the room, standing up straight to stretch the muscles in his back before heading into the office and leaving her to her work without a word. She could see him through the window, sitting at his desk and running fingers through his hair as an unheard sigh escaped him. He must be so lonely, she thought, sweeping her arm across the debris littering the

last table. She stepped back and looked into his office again, her heart beating a little heavier in her chest. Now was her chance. She was old enough now to act on the crush that had carried her all the way through her teen years. She was in her second year in college, and though the circumstances behind it weren’t exactly happy, he wasn’t married anymore. Twisting the garbage back into a knot, she began to walk it toward the trash cans to drop it in. Coming back out, she paused by his office door. Her stomach was tied in an anxious knot, fluttering with the possibility of rejection as she forced herself to step up to the door. “Santa,” she said sweetly, leaning against the doorframe. “I just realized I didn’t get my turn on your lap yet.” Bruce glanced up at her, his eyes widening at the suggestive hint in her tone. “Don’t you think you’re a little old to sit on Santa’s lap, Jaime?” he tilted his head, a thoughtful smile drawing at the corners of his mouth as she pushed the door open and started toward his desk. “I don’t think a girl’s ever too old to sit on Santa’s lap.” She walked around the desk until she was standing in front of him, her hands resting on the tops of her thighs just under the short hem of her skirt. He’d taken off the fat suit that filled out his red furry outfit and hung it on the back of the door. Without, it was easier for her to see him for who he was, the handsome man she’d been crushing on since she was just a kid. “So what do you say, Santa? Do you want to hear what I want for Christmas?” At first she thought he was going to reject her, send her out of his office with a stern glare and her last paycheck, but after studying her for what had to be at least a full minute, Bruce wheeled his chair back from the desk and turned his lap toward her, his grin spreading all the way to his eyes just before he patted his lap and said, “Have a seat.” Jaime licked the gloss from her bottom lip and made the plunge, easing herself into Bruce’s lap and lifting her legs up over his as she squirmed and wiggled into a comfortable place. “Would it help you with this illusion if I put the hat and beard back on?” he asked. She grinned and reached over to grab his accessories from the desk. She slipped the hat on and secured the beard in place, adjusting the elastic until it was just right. Then

she leaned back to admire him, resting her hand against his fake whiskers for a moment. “What would you like for Christmas, little girl?” “Well, Santa,” she began, “I’ve always wondered what it might be like to kiss you.” His eyes widened again, as if he hadn’t seen where her game was going, and then his gaze softened as the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “How old are you now, Jaime?” “I’ll be twenty in February,” she said. “Twenty,” he nodded. “Old enough to know better.” “Don’t you mean old enough to know what I really want?” “That too,” he nodded. “So what do you say, Santa? Can I get a little kiss?” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. His eyes still opened, he seemed to be searching her for permission, for her request to be real, and then he closed his eyes. The curls of his fake beard tickled as he came down to brush his lips against hers, but Jaime didn’t mind. She quickly lowered her arm behind his neck to draw him close and opened her mouth to invite his tongue inside. Bruce was hesitant to accept that invitation, as if in the two years since his wife had passed, he’d forgotten how to kiss a woman, but as Jaime’s mouth closed over his a spark seemed to ignite inside him, reminding him just how it was done. He pressed in harder, taking her breath away when his forearm slid in against her back to draw her closer. Their tongues wrestled, lips meshed together in a way Jaime had only ever daydreamed they might one day be, and as she slid a little further down Bruce’s lap, she could feel the potential for their kiss to turn into something much naughtier. Jaime’s hand glided down Bruce’s shoulder and rested on his chest for a moment while he kept kissing her. She let it slowly travel lower, passing over his stomach until her fingers curled around the stiff erection bursting at the seam of his pants. He gasped as she crawled her fingertips up over his waistline and slipped them in against his warm skin. She didn’t hesitate at all, but quickly found his eager cock and began to gently stroke its length as she focused her eyes on his. “Santa,” she raised her eyebrows, her tone playful and scolding. “It looks like you’ve got one package left to deliver.”

“Jaime,” he muttered. “I don’t know if we should…” “Come on, Santa,” she cooed. “You know you want to.” She didn’t need to be psychic to hear his unspoken answer, it was clearly written in the hungry way his gaze hovered over the nest of cleavage nestled inside her fur-lined jacket. She may have only been twenty, but she knew she’d been blessed with a pretty hot pair of tits. In fact, most guys found those long before they found her eyes, and the way they often licked their lips while sizing up her double Ds made her stomach feel warm and tingly. She didn’t let him say another word, but pulled her hand out of his pants and scooted off his lap so she could kneel down on the floor in front of him. Once situated on her knees, she lifted her big, innocent hazel eyes to his and blinked twice before reaching her hand back inside his pants and pulling his cock out to have a look. It wasn’t huge, not like a few of the guys she’s been with at school, but in her experience size had never been all that important if the guy had no idea what he was doing anyway. She had a feeling Bruce Schuster knew exactly how to use what he’d been given, but before she found out, she wanted to make sure he knew just how serious she was about letting Santa barrel down her chimney. A small drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip of his head, which seemed to wink at her just before she ducked her head down to accept that salty offering with a quick swipe of her warm tongue. The taste of him exploded in her mouth, salty with a hint of bitter, but she wanted more. She opened wide and gobbled him inside, all the while delighted with the eager, but almost terrified sound of his gasps as she gripped him at the base and squeezed. Blow jobs were one of her specialties, probably because he’d had a lot of practice since she’d gone to college. She’d dated a guy her first year who couldn’t get enough of his cock in her mouth, so she’d learned fast to get him off. Over time, Jaime had come to love the feel of a man between her lips, the jerking strokes of him eagerly pushing in deeper until he was practically fucking the back of her throat, and she soon learned that it didn’t matter how old the man was. Even Bruce’s hips responded, anxiously bucking forward as she glided her saliva-coated lips down his shaft until he was nearly balls deep in her mouth and knocking at her tonsils. Dribbles of spit slipped down her chin and dripped over her fingers, and she lubed

her hand with it, jerking quickly up his length each time she pulled her head back. She was only able to sneak a few glances up at him, and each time she did she saw his eyes blissfully closed under the shadow of his Santa hat, his pink lips pursed tight together as he “mmmd” and “ahhhd” in response to her careful skill and attention. His cock was dripping wet, and each time she brought her tight squeezing hand up, the sticky sound it made gave her goosebumps. She popped her lips off his bulging purple head before gulping him inside her again and sucking the sensitive mushroom until she thought he would surely explode. He was nearly hanging off the edge of the chair, with nothing but her body blocking him from falling off, and she imagined that inside his shiny black boots, his toes were curling and uncurling when she slid her lips and tongue downward to pay some much deserved attention to his ball sack. She rolled them between her fingertips before sucking the left one between her lips and lashing her tongue gently over the raised skin until he moaned so loud it almost frightened her. Bruce gripped her chin in his hand as was rolling up his shaft again and brought her in to meet his lips. With her bent knees nearly buckling before him, she was pleasantly surprised when he gripped beneath her thighs and hiked her up onto the desk in front of him. He peeled the tight hem of her skirt upward, bunching it until he was easily able to spread her thighs apart and take a look at the sopping crotch of her white cotton panties. He hesitated a little when his hand stretched forward to brush against those panties, his eyes searching hers to ensure he had her permission to touch him. Jaime licked a drop of spittle from her lower lip before biting down softly and nodding once to give him the go-ahead. Bruce traced the wet patch down to her quivering hole, then drew it back upward to tease at the hard, sensitive nub above and then he leaned forward and kissed her through her panties. His tongue slipped out, tasting the tang of her juice from the cotton before he closed his lips around the outline of her clit and began to flick it with his tongue through her panties. Jaime gripped the edge of the desk, completely oblivious to all the papers that scattered to the floor behind her when Bruce pushed her back further and yanked her panties down like a pro. Much as she had done when viewing his cock for the first time, he leaned back and admired the glistening treasure between her spread thighs and smiled in admiration before dipping one finger into the honey pot and pushing it deep

inside her. He didn’t waste any time diving in to taste her, his slippery tongue dancing through her folds before swirling up to circle around her swollen button. He sucked her into his mouth, pinching her nub between his lips just hard enough to make her cry out in pleasure. Most of the guys she’d been with weren’t nearly so generous. They wanted their cock sucked and then they wanted to bury it in her pussy. They rarely gave her the pleasure she craved, but Bruce was down there lapping away at her pussy like a thirsty dog in the desert and she knew that from that day forward he would be who she thought about whenever she fingered herself. She’d never known such pleasure, the warmth of his slick wet tongue teasing and tasting, gliding down through her folds to prod at her finger-filled hole before sliding back up to suckle and please her. Jaime found her hips rocking forward, pushing her pussy against his face until she nearly smothered him, but Bruce didn’t seem to mind. He gladly buried his face in her, silently refusing to stop until she was squirming and shuddering on his desktop. She leaned up on her elbows to try and watch as he devoured her, but the excitement was too much, his mouth felt too good, and she slowly dropped back onto the desk and let him eat her until she couldn’t hold back anymore. The tight muscles in her stomach and womb began to loosen and warm, tingling waves of wonder rushed through her body, Jaime’s hand shot down to the top of Bruce’s head to push him harder into her snatch. He didn’t stop, and seemed to have no intention of doing so until ever last gush of sweet cream rushed from her. He dove down deeper, pulling his dripping fingers from her slit and replacing them with his eager, hungry tongue. He lapped and slurped, gobbling up her offering like a man starving, and didn’t stop until her final shudder was a barely noticeable jerk of her hips. When he lifted his face, the fake beard was hanging down below his glazed chin and grinning lips. He hoisted himself up off the floor, his rock hard cock still jutting like a pole from the top of his pants. “I want you inside me, Santa,” Jaime purred, leaning up on her elbows again to watch as he dropped his pants to his ankles and stepped forward. She was so dripping wet, he needed only to slide the bulging head of his cock

through her slippery lips to lube himself before positioning himself at her gaping hole and pushing slowly through her tightly clenched walls. Jamie took him with a sigh, falling back onto the desk again and scooting her hips forward to meet him. Bruce grunted softly when he was fully sheathed inside her tight little pussy, his cool balls dangling just above her ass and then he began to draw his hips back so he could plunge into her again. He moved slowly at first, as if savoring every inch of himself inside her. Jaime watched his face, his closed eyes, head tilted slightly upward as he eased in and out, and she wondered how long it had been since he’d been inside a woman. “You feel so good inside me,” she said, and he opened his eyes to look down at her. A slow smile edged at the corner of his mouth, and as they stared into one another, Bruce picked up the pace. It took a few minutes of him plunging in and out to build a good, strong rhythm that made her ache with the kind of powerful tension that only came with potential vaginal orgasm. Jaime had only ever had one vaginal orgasm, and it had been with her college roommate’s dildo. Even then, she was pretty sure that had only happened because she was flicking her clit with her free hand while driving that dildo in and out. Bruce had hiked her hips slightly upward, changing the angle of his reach, and if he fucked her hard enough, Jaime was pretty sure she’d come with his cock inside her. What a Christmas present that would be, she thought. “Fuck me harder, Santa,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Fuck me so hard.” Her vulgar plea seemed to inspire him, and Bruce happily obliged, drawing back slow and then hammering down hard through her walls until his bulging head banged against her cervix and sent shocks of sweet bliss rippling through her. “Oh yes!” she gasped. “Yes, just like that. Just like that, Santa. Hard. Fuck me hard, Santa!” Bruce bucked like a wild bronco, shoving through her with such force it was impossible not to cry out every time he slammed into her. The desk rocked underneath them, papers scattering, the phone crashing to the floor with a clatter that neither of them cared about even when the loud busy signal of an off-the-hook phone echoed through the office. She ached inside, a feeling she’d never fully known before, having been nothing

more than an outlet for the guys she’d been with to fill until they were satisfied. For the first time, Jaime felt and amazing tension building inside her and the promise of release that would surely follow if he could just keep going. And Bruce did not disappoint. He crammed himself in and out of her, stuffing her like a holiday goose with wet slaps of his heavy-hitting balls tickling her ass every time he slammed home. Jaime tightened her legs around his hips and wildly spasmed, crying out in long, quivering moans as the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt pulsed through her like an electric shock. “God! Oh god, yes! Yes!” she wailed. “Please, please, please,” she whimpered, though she wasn’t sure what she was begging for, she just knew she didn’t want him to stop until long after that wonderful feeling began to ebb. She half-expected Bruce to blow his load as soon as she came, but he was no amateur. He kept fucking, pounding his cock in hard and fast, his wild hips pumping and pumping as he moaned and grunted. Jaime leaned up, her muscles squeezing him tighter when she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down onto the desk with her. He was heavy atop her, crushing her with his body, but it felt good. Her breasts ached, smooshed beneath his chest. She kissed him as she gasped for breath, their mouths missing, but the gesture enough to drive the passion higher. “You feel so good,” she whispered, her lips grazing his cheek before finding his in a sloppy kiss. Every word she spoke seemed to push him deeper into her, as if the sound of her voice alone was enough to set him on fire and only her body could quench the burning. She writhed with him, matching his stroke and rhythm perfectly. “Yeah,” he muttered, his mouth searching for hers again. “Yeah, girl.” Bruce slowed, grinding down deep into her to savor the comfort between her thighs as long as he could make it last. Jaime lifted to meet his kiss, her tongue dancing with his as his powerful lips crushed hers. She’d never felt so intimately connected with another person before, and even though she was sure that connection would break when their bodies separated, she didn’t care. She was living a fantasy; her greatest Christmas wish had been fulfilled and she’d never dreamed when she’d taken that job at Santa’s Workshop after Thanksgiving that she would find herself underneath Bruce Schuster, feeling him plough through her like a farmer tilling a spring field.

He was pumping faster again, pounding down hard into her pussy and drawing that tingling tension back into her belly once more. Every muscle inside her was tightening, her chest heaving and rising as she gasped in anxious, excited breaths and circled her hips upward over and again. “Cum for me, Santa,” she whispered. Her urging spurred him on, and he fucked harder, their hip bones slamming together almost painfully, but Jaime didn’t care. She wanted him to cum, to feel the hot spray of his seed painting the insides and tops of her thighs. “Come on, Santa,” she pleaded, “cum.” Bruce’s thrusts became almost sporadic, as if he no longer had control over the muscles in his body. His hips bounced off hers, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as he backed out of her and gripped his swollen, wet cock in his hands. He stroked quick, squeezing and jerking himself into a frenzy as he ground his teeth together and drew in repeated gasps of excited breath. His moans grew louder, almost as if he’d been holding all his tension inside for so long that finally letting it flow free was a relief. Jaime sat up and watched, the purple head of his cock seemingly winking at her in the second before he exploded and shot molten streams of bliss streaming toward her bare thighs. On contact with her skin, its warmth gave her chills, and she felt her skin prickle with gooseflesh. “That’s it,” she said, her eyes wide with excitement. “Yeah, just like that. Just like that.” She reached out her hand, curled her fingers around his and helped him jerk the final spurts of cum onto her legs. She got some on her hand, and immediately lifted it to her lips, sweeping her tongue out to taste the thick, gooey cream. Bruce watched her, his eyebrows raised with delight as she cleaned it from her knuckles, and then he leaned in to kiss her again. That final kiss was slow and full of appreciation, as if her willingness to ease his holiday loneliness was more than he ever could have asked for. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she told him, scooting off the edge of his desk to stand before him on the floor. “Like… always.” “Really?” He seemed surprised, as if in the years of his marriage he had only

reserved his eyes for his wife, and had allowed himself to forget there were other women, other girls out there who might find him desirable. It was sweet, that kind of devotion, and even if it never amounted to anything else, Jaime was glad she could bring the sparkle back into his eyes. “Yeah,” she nodded, her grin becoming coyer as she reached to pull the bottom of her skirt down over her ass again. “I always thought you were the hottest guy in town.” His grin widened and he stepped back to tuck himself back into his Santa pants while she finished situating herself and cleaning the cum from the tops of her thighs. “Thank you, Jaime.” “Thank you, Santa,” she winked. “I hope you have a nice holiday,” she said, walking toward the door to head home. She’d lied to Bruce when she’d come into the office. Her folks really hadn’t gone to Florida, and they were probably wondering why she hadn’t come home from work yet so they could sit down and eat Christmas Eve dinner together. Maybe it had been a really naughty thing to do, but it had certainly put her at the top of Santa’s nice list. “Thank you, Jaime.” Bruce didn’t move, but watched her walk through the door and out into the workshop to pull into her coat. She waved to him from the front door before the sound of tinkling bells announced her departure and she stepped out into the night whistling a happy holiday tune.

Thank you for reading Santa's Little Helper by Rachel Boleyn A Sweet Nothings Production. For more information on the author, visit her website at http://www.rachelboleyn.com The following are excerpts from some more Sweet Nothings titles, including Santa's Slut by Kelly Haven, and Mrs. Claus's Christmas Wish by Rachel Boleyn.

Santa's Slut By Kelly Haven

He sat on his ass, rubbing his head and looking at the package in front of him. What could it be? There was no way a woman was in there waiting for him. A sex toy, perhaps? He guessed a part of him knew that there was no way that even Santa Claus could fulfill his wish, so maybe he had dropped off something else instead? Wait, though. If he dropped off that, then it meant he was real, and if Santa was real… Samuel scurried forward, anxious to see what was inside the box. It was wrapped in pink and blue wrapping paper and tied with a white ribbon. It was the most elaborate wrapping job he had ever seen, despite its simplicity. Not a corner was out of place, not a crinkle was apparent. It was perfect. The perfect present. Sammy put it to his nose and sniffed. Not only did it smell like Christmas, with its familiar scent of pine needles and peppermint, but there was something else there as well. Something Samuel hadn't breathed in a very long time—women's perfume. It was intoxicating. "I don't believe it," he whispered. And that's when it happened. A sound like a million twinkling fairies filled his ears as the package began to sparkle. It shimmied and shook on the floor in front of him and he fell back on his ass in surprise. Rocking back and forth, the package finally leaped into the air and twirled around faster and faster and faster until finally it exploded in a huge puff of pink smoke that made Samuel's eyes water. Not in sadness or from irritation, but from the fact that he was real. Santa was real, and he had delivered unto him his one Christmas wish. When the smoke cleared a beautiful woman stood before Sam, who was still sitting on the ground, staring on in wide-eyed wonder. His eyes traveled up and down her body, and he realized that not only was she a woman, but the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. She stood with her hands on her hips, which were cocked to the side so that he tiny ass stuck out a little. She was wearing pink panties; underneath which her long legs came to a halt and her treasure could be found. Instead of a top, she wore a pink bra to match

her underwear, and underneath that her tits hung like grapefruit. Her hair was golden blonde and came down to the small of her back and she had the cutest dimples. She was smiling at him, her chest heaving up and down in unison with his. Their breathing as one. "Hello," the woman said, her voice as soft as an angel. "I'm Emily." Sammy swallowed—hard—and she giggled. "It's okay, there's no need to be shy. I'm here all for you. Santa received your letter, and sent me to take care of you." Somehow he managed to make it to his feet, his hands a clammy mess. "He…he's… he's real?" "Of course, silly," Emily said. "Who did you think you were writing to?" "I…I don't know. I just didn't think—" "Be careful what you wish for, Samuel." At that he let out a nervous laugh and took a step forward, blinking his eyes to make sure the figure before him was not a figment of his imagination. "Oh I'm real," she said. "And I'm all woman." Emily reached around and unhooked her bra. It tumbled to the ground like thin paper and Sammy gasped at the sight before him. Her tits were perfect. Round orbs of flesh with tiny pink nipples that were already erect. "Do you want to touch them?" Emily asked. Sammy swallowed again, and nodded. As he stepped forward, she reached down and took his hands in hers, and placed them on her breasts. He cupped them ever so softly and she moaned. When he ran his thumbs over her rock hard nipples, she licked her lips and smiled. "Mmm, that's nice." He gently squeezed them before leaning down to suckle one, and then the other, leaving a thin sheen of saliva where his mouth was. Inside his pants, Sammy's cock was already hard. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman, but after he had written his letter to Santa, he had been mentally preparing for this moment, despite his brain trying to tell him it would never happen. He didn't want his cock to explode in a geyser of cum before he even got it out of his pants, so he used alternate methods to distract him; like thinking about his ex-wife and how much of a bitch she was for taking their only daughter away from him. Emily reached down and rubbed him through the fabric of his track pants.

"Oh my, you're so big, Samuel." He laughed. "Call me Sammy." "Sammy," she repeated, letting the name roll over her tongue like butter. He removed his shirt and pressed up close to his Christmas present, feeling her warm flesh against his. They kissed, and his tongue found hers while his hands traced her back before moving down and cupping Emily's ass. To continue reading Santa's Slut Please purchase a copy from one of the following retailers: Amazon US Amazon UK Barnes and Noble All Romance eBooks Bookstrand Smashwords

Mrs. Claus's Christmas Wish By Rachel Boleyn

Soft beams of light emanated from the tips of his fingers, penetrating the snow that comprised her body without melting it. It traveled through her cheeks and down into her neck, reaching out to awaken every inch of her perfect, beautiful body. Jessica bounced on her heels as she watched the beauty before her slowly come to life. The streams of snow that made up her hair broke away and as she stretched and awoke, long waves of auburn hair rustled as she shook her head. “Merry Christmas?” she asked, her wide green eyes looking between Santa and Mrs. Claus for their approval. “That’s right, my darling,” Jessica beamed, stepping forward and wrapping the afghan around her Christmas wish. “Merry Christmas.” “I love Christmas,” she said. “You are Christmas,” Santa Claus told his creation. “Made from the love and spirit of the holiday itself, so we will call you Chrissy, for short.” “I like to be called Chrissy,” she smiled. “That’s a good girl,” Santa laughed. “Are you cold? Would you like to come inside for a cup of cocoa?” “Oh yes, please! I like cocoa.” “Well then, come along my dear,” Jessica slipped her arm around the other woman’s shoulder. “We don’t want you catching cold out here.” As they made their way back to the house, she turned over her shoulder and said to her husband, “She’s very pleasant.” “And agreeable,” Santa noted with a wink. Jessica liked the sound of that. She set Chrissy up near the fire and went to put the kettle on for cocoa. While she bustled around humming her favorite Christmas Carol as she worked, her imagination went wild. She’d never dreamed that her husband would go to such lengths to make her happy, but the proof was in the snow angel, and what an angel she was. Chrissy was one of the most beautiful women Jessica had ever seen, her pink mouth kissably pouty and her eyes the bright green of holly leaves, and even though it had been dark out when she’d first met her Christmas wish, there had been a definite smattering of soft freckles

against her creamy, snow white skin. And her body… Jessica couldn’t even think about those long, perfect legs and perky breasts without a furnace of desire igniting in her belly. She had no idea how she was going to sit through cocoa! She’d be bouncing off the walls if she couldn’t have her soon. “Patience, my dearest,” Nick snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don’t need to be a mind reader to hear the racket going on in that brain of yours.” “You scared me half to death,” she squeaked. “Sneaking up on me like that! You ought to be ashamed.” Leaning down, he nibbled on her outstretched neck, leaving a soft trail of kisses along the curve until he reached her sensitive ear. She was already incredibly horny, and the mere act of him flicking his soft, moist tongue against her earlobe sent her into overdrive. “She is beautiful, though, Santa. You’ve really outdone yourself,” Jessica said. “I can’t wait to play.” “She’s perfect in every way,” he agreed. “Though not half as beautiful as my wonderful wife.” “Oh, Santa, you old romantic,” she turned to face him and lifted her arms around his neck. She was nuzzling her lips against his when Chrissy wandered into the kitchen and just stared with wide, innocent green eyes at the sight unfolding before her. “I like kisses,” she announced. “They feel like tingly snowflakes on my lips.” This made Jessica laugh as she stepped back a little and held her arm out to invite Chrissy to join them in their embrace. She tentatively stepped toward the couple, but relaxed as Jessica’s arm rested on her shoulders and drew her near. Jessica first planted a tender kiss on Chrissy’s cheek, but almost as if on instinct, Chrissy turned her cheek and met Mrs. Claus’s lips with her own. The inferno already raging in Jessica’s belly exploded, spraying tingling excitement all throughout her body as she felt her lips part to accept the gentle prod of Chrissy’s warm tongue. She tasted like Christmas, like peppermint and sugarplums and freshfallen snowflakes that melt on the tip of the tongue and the feeling her lips evoked inside Jessica reminded her of the excitement children must feel as they tossed and turned in their beds, waiting to hear Santa’s sleigh as it landed on their rooftop. Chrissy’s hand lifted slowly to rest on Jessica’s cheek, a sign of endearment that only seemed to increase the warmth spreading throughout her body. She couldn’t believe she

was finally going to see her secret fantasy to the end. Chrissy pulled back and smiled shyly. “Am I good as kissing?” “You certainly are, my dear.” “Thank you, Jessica,” she said. “You’re very good at kissing too. It makes me feel fuzzy in my tummy when your lips touch mine.” “I could make you feel fuzzy all over your body, if you’d like.” Her eyes widened at the prospect. “I’d like that very much.” “Then come with me.” To continue reading Mrs. Claus's Christmas Wish Please purchase a copy from one of the following retailers: Amazon US Amazon UK Barnes and Noble All Romance eBooks Bookstrand Smashwords