Bad Santa

I yanked open the closet door and glared at the suit.

Could I just burn it, perhaps?

Christmas was at the same time every year - every single, fucking year - and yet I was always unprepared and always behind schedule. I took another swig of J.D.

Maybe I could lose it... Feed it to a reindeer, or something. Would anyone believe Santa's suit getting eaten by a reindeer? My old man was so good at this job and all I do is screw it up. The elves hate me, I know it. I know they talk about me when I'm not around, the little fuckers. If it wasn't for that fucking union... And for the fact that I couldn't make a billion toys on my own, I guess. Fuck.

I threw back another mouthful of my pick-me-up. Further charitable thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" suddenly erupting from my trouser pocket.

Memo to self: new ring tone.

"Yeah?" I inquired, tight-lipped.

"Kris, it's Teddy. We--"

"Teddy! How's it hangin', buddy?" I hammed it up shamelessly: Teddy was the most anal of the production managers.

"Just fine, sir. We have a problem with one of the new toys. Please come over right away."

"Teddy," I said, swirling the last dregs of my drink around the bottom of my glass and wondering where I'd left the bottle, "I'm kind of busy right now. Perhaps you could come to the house?"

"I, too, am rather busy at the moment, sir, it being 'The Night Before...' and all. I'll send one of the staff over to discuss this with you."

"Great." I slipped my mobile into my pocket and wandered back to the lounge room.

The bottle of J.D. was on the table next to the lamp. So was my stash of weed.

Hmm.

I checked my watch.

---

I had dimmed the room slightly and was settling nicely into my pipe when there was a knock at the door. I blew an impressively large cloud towards the ceiling. Well, I was impressed, anyway.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Come on in."

The door creaked open to reveal one of the newer employees nervously clutching a box. Shit, but she was all right for an elf. Around five feet tall; mid-twenties I'd guess, like a thirty-five year old human; long blonde hair with a slight greenish tinge. Nice tits – quite large for an elf. Cute nose. Beautiful, big eyes – whitish-blue, like polar ice.

"I'm sorry..." She trailed off. I watched her eyes move from the bottle on the floor to the pipe in my hand.

"Oh," she said, slightly embarrassed. She cocked her head to one side.

"Your father played the lute," she said, somewhat unexpectedly.

I tried to make sense of this. I couldn't.

"What?" I said, eventually.

"To de-stress. Before the delivery," she elaborated.

I nodded, not quite managing any reply. She entered the room, closed the door behind her, moved over to the lounge and sat down next to me. The uniforms they wore these days reminded me of fast food chain uniforms, or Wal-mart, or something. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"We have a problem," she said.

"With a toy," I nodded.

"Your idea," she continued, "of also providing toys to the naughty children was... unorthodox. There are a few elves - traditionalists - who can't easily run with the concept. Your choice of toys was interesting, too. Appropriate, perhaps, but, again, difficult to run with. In particular," she continued, holding up the box, "this one, for the eighteen-to-twenty age bracket, is causing some uncertainty."

The box featured a naked woman in the throes of what may have been a mind-blowing orgasm. The text on the box read: 'Rebel Rambler! Take your satisfaction off-road. Bi-directional rotating head and shaft guarantee the ride of a lifetime!'

"Sounds all right to me," I grinned, trying to play it cool. She bit her tongue, I think, and scratched her leg.

"For a bad girl, I mean... Appropriate," I explained badly.

"It's just that," she said, pulling the toy out of its box, "it's not quite what one expects from Santa Klaus."

The thing she held up was purple and pink. Transparent patches revealed ball bearings and batteries. It had one large horn and one small horn, like a deformed demon. My mind was, unfortunately, wandering somewhat at this point.

"Do you know what I'd really like?" I asked.

She looked at me quizzically. I blinked and re-focused my eyes. I shook my head a little. This probably made me look a bit weird.

"I'd really like to know what is officially wrong with it," I said, attempting to preemptively cut through the bullshit I knew was coming. "Has it been tested?" I asked.

She blushed, turning a light purple.

"It works fine," she offered, with a shrug.

"Has it been officially tested," I corrected myself.

"No," she repeated.

"It needs to be tested. Officially."

I narrowed my eyes at her, for the full Santa effect. She looked aside for a second.

"I could have that done for you," she said.

"However," she continued, turning to face me, "I'll need a few things first."

"Like?"

"Like your signature," she replied, pulling an RF-31(c) and a pen from her pocket.

I signed the form.

"What else?" I asked.

"A shot of J.D.," she said. I raised an eyebrow and gave her one.

"And a whiff of that," she continued, pointing to my pipe.

She toked, closing her eyes as she inhaled deeply. Her rib cage expanded and made her gorgeous breasts swell. While she sat, unmoving, my eyes glued themselves to the curves of her chest, absorbing the gradients of light and shadow, picturing delectable nipples and imagining how the soft weight of her flesh would feel, cupped in my hands.

She held the smoke for a few seconds then blew a long cloud up through the lamp-light. She handed the pipe back, sat for a few moments, breathing deeply, then stood up, dropped her shorts and flicked on the toy.

She held it loosely, moving her hands over the angled thickness of the shaft, exploring the clit stimulator, feeling its vibrations.

"Looks nice enough. Feels comfortable to hold. No excessive heat build-up so far. Suitable for left- or right-handers."

Was she expecting me to take notes? Crazy.

I made a note of that.

She moved the thing down between her legs and let it tickle her thigh. She shook involuntarily. The Rambler pulsed over her smooth mound, pressed against her clitoris, trundled gently down and up her labia as she made herself wet.

"Its operation is quite agreeable," she said haltingly.

"But does it turn you on?" I asked, impatient with the undying Elf officiousness. "Does it make you yearn for strong, deep penetration? Do you (I went out on a cultural limb) feel the need for seed?"

She pulled the monster toward her and her pussy slurped it up. She moaned and her breathing broke. Leaving the Rambler buried inside her, she quickly removed her blouse and undid her bra.

"I might need some assistance if I'm going to test this properly," she said, glancing in my direction. I leaned my smile over towards her and slipped it over a nipple, tickling the column of tight flesh lightly with my tongue and gently scraping up its length with my teeth. She grabbed her other nipple with her free hand and pulled hard.

Holding my head to her chest, she wormed the Rambler around inside her, side to side, up and down, then pulling it halfway out, pausing to absorb the sensations and pushing it slowly back in again.

Female Elves (I had heard it said) could take quite a bit of punishment during sex before it actually started to hurt and I was witnessing that first hand. She was tugging and squeezing her nipple harder than I would have dared, pulling her breast out into a long, conical shape. She pinched it hard between her fingers, even switching to her nails. She seethed and snorted like a tiny, angry bull. Her other hand was as rhythmic as a jackhammer, fucking her pussy with the whirring tool while she ground her hips into the cushion of the lounge.

I started biting her nipple harder than I usually would have, but every time I went that little bit further than I thought I should have, I was rewarded with groans of pleasure and a toss of that beautiful blonde head. Whenever she opened her eyes, all I could see what that overwhelming icy whiteness, her pupils dilated to tiny specks of black.

I leaned back and replaced my mouth with my hand, pinching and squeezing her bright red nipple, while I pulled my engorged penis out of my pants and starting masturbating furiously. She had her eyes open now and couldn't tear her gaze away my cock. Her mouth was open as she gasped for air and every time she probed herself with the Rambler she let out a loud moan.

I struggled up and turned myself around, kneeling on the lounge with my dick aimed at her chest. I watched the rotating shaft disappearing inside her again and again, fisting my cock madly at the sight of this hot Elf quickly approaching climax at her own hand.

With one final grind she started coming, her body quaking and bucking as she continued to stroke herself harder, fucking herself faster and faster, wrenching hot, quick orgasm after orgasm from her body. Her teeth were clenched and her head was thrown back, apparently trying to burrow down between the cushions, putting her beautiful body on taut display.

With a crazed groan, I began spurting come over her belly and chest. She was still coming with abandon and I shuddered another wave of my juice over her, decorating her breasts in a somewhat festive style. I groaned again and kept going as best I could, determined to give as good as I was receiving.

I gradually slowed and squeezed my cock harder, teasing the last remaining drops out, painting her belly a portrait of lust, rubbing the head lazily over her soft skin. She had finally collapsed, chest heaving, arms limp by her sides, Rambler buzzing away faithfully. I leaned forward, kissed her on the lips and turned it off.

"So the toy's okay, yeah?" I asked, thwapping her thigh playfully with my dwindling erection.

"Haah," she managed.

"In that case," I smiled, "Merry Christmas: I hope you like it."