Sara's Santa Fetish

It was nearly one in the morning on Christmas Eve - scratch that, Christmas morning was technically more correct, Sara decided with a disappointed sigh as she leaned over a small round table, picking up an empty beer bottle and wiping away the ring of liquid left behind. How pathetic, she thought. What a way to spend the holiday.

"Don't bitch, Sara, at least you have a job," she reminded herself in a whisper.

The bar she tended was a small place on the outskirts of a small town. It hopped pretty good on weekends but was dead most other nights, especially on this one. The last customer drank two beers, realized what little companionship was available here, and left. She was thinking about doing the same. Her shift wasn't up until two, another hour away, but it wasn't as if anybody was going to notice.

Sara was a cute young woman, twenty-three years old with a slender, shapely, petite frame, shoulder-length brown hair, dazzling blue eyes, an adorable smile, and nice tits. At least that was how she saw herself. Above average in most cases, especially in this small town she called home.

Her body was dressed in skin-tight blue jeans with a cowboy-style belt and shiny chrome buckle with a design of a rodeo cowboy on its face. On top she wore a tight yellow t-shirt which clung to her every curve, accenting her naturally firm breasts that freely jiggled underneath. The heels of her cowboy boots softly clicked on the tile floor as she walked, not that she noticed.

Like any other girl she had harbored grandiose dreams of moving out west and living life large, but dreams and reality were rarely one and the same. So here she was, a laid-off manager at an upscale restaurant that fell victim to the economic downturn who was lucky to find herself tending bar. Life could be much better, she knew, but it could also be much worse.

A news program was droning on a wall-mounted TV above the bar, a noise she had long since gotten used to and barely paid attention to anymore. There were fourteen tables in the bar, two wood-backed chairs at each table, although when a group larger than two got together the chairs drifted, and it was her job to set things back right. Eight stools lined the bar itself, which she spaced evenly apart.

There was an obligatory pool table at the far end that was rarely used. The overhead light was functional but was hardly ever turned on. She'd dusted the table and fixture earlier and so paid it little mind on this night.

"There," she announced as her eyes surveyed the bar for anything she may have left amiss. "Another fine job you've done, Sara. What say we call it a night and go home?"

"Home?" a man's deep voice suddenly challenged. "Now why would you want to do something like that? You've got a thirsty man on your hands here!"

As she turned a man came into view wearing a Santa Claus costume. The costume was just like any other, a bright red fringed with fluffy white, and an obviously fake beard hung from his chin that was slightly misadjusted. But the sight startled Sara, and she gasped - loudly enough for him to notice.

"What, you've never seen Santa Claus before?" the man questioned.

"Of course, I just - well, I mean - I just wasn't expecting to see you out and about so late," Sara tried to explain in a halting voice.

She felt her face warm with embarrassment as she stepped around to the business side of the bar. Both of her nipples swelled as they rubbed against the fabric of her shirt which moved with her every step. A twinge of excitement pulsed through her veins as her body responded to the unexpected patron in a decidedly sexual manner.

"I'm Roy," Santa announced as he sat on a stool midway along the bar. "What's your name? I have to check my list to see if you've been naughty or nice."

Sara rolled her eyes but followed it with a warm smile. "Sara Sayers, if you must know... Roy."

As he made a motion of pulling a long slip of paper from a pocket and pretended to be looking for her name, she slid the top door of a cooler open, pulled out two bottles of domestic beer, quickly popped the tops, and placed them on the bar.

"What the hell, first one's on the house, and I'll even join you," she told him as she lifted one bottle and indulged in a sip.

"Sayers... Sayers... Sara Sayers, there you are," Roy continued his role-playing, then grinned and looked into her beautiful blue eyes with a playful wink. "Oh, Santa likes the naughty ones."

Sara couldn't say why, whether it was the twinkle in his eyes, the tone of his voice, the Santa costume he was wearing, or the words he spoke, but she felt a tingling rush through her that triggered her nipples and pussy. Her pulse immediately quickened and she found herself breathing harder for no good reason at all.

A warm hand was placed on hers. "Are you okay? I was only kidding, you'll be getting a present, I promise."

Again with that twinkle. She felt her nipples straining, as if trying to tear through the tight t-shirt she had on, suddenly making her wish that she'd worn one that fit more loosely. And there - she'd caught him fair and square, staring at the long protruding bumps as they throbbed against the yellow cotton. When he didn't look away, she suddenly realized she didn't want him to. What was going on?

"Hardly seems like Christmas without the music," the jolly older man suggested.

She felt herself getting flustered again, so she turned and used his statement as an excuse to look away. "Maybe there's something on cable."

Relieved for the brief respite, she picked up a remote control and began surfing past the channels. Just as she was about to give up Sara found a station that was showing video footage of a fireplace with Christmas music playing in the background.

"There," she said with a hint of pride in her voice. "How's that, San - I mean Roy. Sorry, you must get that a lot."

He smiled widely, and again those eyes twinkled at her. She suddenly felt quite warm and nervously looked down, reached for the bottle she'd opened for herself, and took a long drink from it.

"Roy, Santa, Santa, Roy... call me what you're comfortable with, I'll answer to just about anything," he announced with a chuckle. "I started out as Roy, but that was such a long time ago."

Sara was watching him and she couldn't help but notice the thick white eyebrows. The department-store variety didn't have those, she thought. The tell-tale beard, sure, but not the - oh my God, had she just assumed the beard was fake when she first saw him? It had looked askew, but now it looked - could something so large, thick and bushy be real?

She felt his hand on hers for a second, the thick fingers gently caressing the soft skin. His eyes brightened and he laughed loudly, deeply, sounding just like a person would expect Santa to sound like, not the cheap impersonators, but the real thing. The real thing, she thought with a smirk. Get serious, Sara, there is no -

"Santa Claus?" he suddenly interjected.

The breath caught in her throat as he completed her sentence... no, her thought, she next realized. Was he seeing everything she was thinking? How could he do that? Since when was Santa a mind-reader? That was never part of the fantasy - tradition, tradition, damn it Sara, stop doing this to yourself!

He took a sip, returned the bottle to the table, and laughed that jovial laugh once more, his bark resonating through the empty bar. Overhead there were several loud thumps that caught her off-guard and gathered her attention.

"Don't mind them, they're just anxious to be on their way, but I'm not ready to go quite yet. There's still one last gift to be delivered."

Her gaze lowered to his warm eyes and she stammered confusedly, "But, but... you can't be... this can't be..."

"I know what you've been thinking, I know for what you long, and tonight's a special night indeed, because Santa isn't wrong," he spoke, rhyming the words as if singing a verse from Santa Claus is Coming to Town. "I know when you lay in bed at night, your body longs for me, and tonight I'll make your dreams come true, Sara I'll set you free."

The words, so eloquently spoken, left her breathless and confused. His reddened cheeks and twinkling eyes were thoroughly bewitching, and without uttering a single word in protest Sara allowed him to guide her to the end of the bar and to the pool table at the far end of the room which was shrouded in shadows. And as if acting out a well-practiced event, she allowed him to sit her on the edge.

She was putty in his hands. He could've done anything he wanted. The fantasies flashed in her mind like movie trailers of the oft-repeated nights she lay in bed at night, thighs wide, fingering her clit while rubbing a wig or other such prop against her inner legs as if to replicate the feel of facial hair, a beard... Santa's beard. She'd thought of the things he'd do to her, of the pleasure he would bring, but - but -

"It's happening, Sara," he promised with a soft, belly-shaking chuckle. "Lean back and enjoy this very special gift."

And so she did. As if by magic her boots fell to the floor with a loud bang, the tight jeans seemed to simply unraveled at the waist, and with a single tug she was naked from the waist down. Sara dared not look for fear she'd awaken as if from a wonderful dream, but rather slid her legs wide apart in a silent offering of all she physically possessed.

"Oh!" she weakly cried out.

Her heart raced as she felt the whiskers of his silky-soft beard stroking her inner thighs. It was a sensation unlike any other, and she quickly realized all of her efforts to duplicate the feel of Santa's beard with feathers, wigs, of all order of things, had all been woefully inadequate when compared to the real thing.

Her weakening legs twitched and her hips bucked as he kept moving back and forth along her shapely legs. In her mind she tried to memorize what it felt like as the whiskers ever so gently rubbed back and forth, tiny sparks of magical electricity firing through her, warming her loins, filling her with such youthful excitement and incredible hope that anything was possible, anything at all!

Once she had grown accustomed to the wondrous sensations, he added a second dimension when he began placing the softest of kisses upon her quivering skin. Starting at the knees and advancing inward, lips and tongue traversed her inner thighs, awakening the woman inside. Sara could feel her body responding, pussy moistening with feminine wetness, clit swelling with want, with need.

He seemed to know exactly how long she could manage without relief. As her heart exploded and breathing turned labored, his mouth set upon her. Furiously. All parts. Tongue, lips, heat, saliva, and those slight erotic shocks that never failed to twitch her muscles.

As the tip of his magical tongue touched the top of her clit, was dragged across its length, Sara clenched hard and shuddered as the most intense orgasm of her life rocked her world, and rocked it hard. Her sexy form tensed and shook, crazily at times, as the sexual need from her was released.

"Oh, God!" she gasped at the end.

"No, Santa," he spoke, reminding her as he bellowed laughter. "But we are great friends."

By the time she came to her senses, Santa, Roy, was gone. She felt a weight on her chest and glanced down to see a gold chain dangling from her neck, and a thick, quarter-sized gold charm attached to the chain and resting on her t-shirt between her heaving breasts. Lifting the charm she saw two engraved words; I BELIEVE

Looking skyward she heard a loud thump on the roof, and then jingling bells that quickly faded away. Her lips formed the widest of smiles as grateful tears spilled down her rosy cheeks.

"Ho, ho, ho! M-e-r-r-y Christmas," a deep and boisterous voice shouted out, "and to all a good night!"

*

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many thanks to you for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed it. I would appreciate your vote, and welcome any comments you might be willing to share. My best to you and yours, and I sincerely wish you all the best this magical holiday season. Say a prayer for those who daily place their lives in harm's way so we have the freedom to indulge in fantasies such as these. My love, respect, and undying admiration goes out to my fellow veterans and the families left behind.

I salute them all!