The Bitch Wench's Christmas Eve

"Hey, I bet I'd have no problem moving up and down your tight little chimney," Brad retorted.

And Shayna--to show how pathetic she was--just giggled uncontrollably.

More examples?

Shayna to Brad, after a man with bulging arm muscles passed through: "Hey, Brad. His arms were almost as thick as your cock last night."

Brad to Shayna, after he arrived 20 minutes late one Sunday morning: "I'm sorry. Shayna exhausted me so much last night that I overslept. I think I had to answer the bell, what, five times?"

Shayna to Brad: "My nipples still hurt from all that sucking Brad. Can you be more gentle tonight?" And Brad responds: "Well, I have a brush burn on my groin from your horseback riding. So I think we're even."

Brad to Shayna: "I think I need to burn a little energy off after work today, Shayna." He then reached behind and grabbed her butt. "I'm not so sure you have enough energy to satisfy me, Brad," Shayna respond, lowering a finger to lightly trace the outline of his cock.

Winter Wonderland, of course, was a fantasy world for children and kids at heart. It was not a place for adult fare. But they were very careful. I was the only person who ever saw or heard them act in the manner above. But that was because they wanted me to see it. I knew that they did it on purpose to rile me.

And it worked.

I do have an average sex life, but my wife is now 54 years old. I find my mind drifting during sex. Her body can't always hold my attention. (There's a reason, of course, for Viagra and other such pills.) Two good-looking, oversexed teenagers--who aggressively shared their private life--didn't exactly make me feel better about myself in this regards.

It was bad enough as it was, but they made it worse. Perhaps seeing my pain, they occasionally directed their sexual commentary at me.

"Hey, Santa. Your look a little uptight today. What's the matter? Ms. Claus not give you any nookie last night?" Brad couldn't contain his devilish smile when he said this.

Once, after an extremely elderly man pass through, Shayna noted, "You see how shriveled that old guy was Brad? I bet his wrinkly old cock can't even get up anymore." Then, glancing over at me. "Oh! I need to watch my mouth."

Once, Brad, pretending one day to be interested in me, remarked, "So, Santa, tell me: I live for sex. But is it true that when you get older sex can kill you? Stop year heart? Man, that would be worse than death to get so old that you can't do it anymore."

Once, Shayna, musing one evening after closing, reflected, "It must suck to be Santa. I mean, you can't have sex, right? Who wants to have sex with Santa? Maybe you get a candy cane from him, but I can't imagine Santa balling anyone. No wonder he has no children."

And so this is what I endured day after day. We always seemed to work together. If they weren't mocking customers behind their back, they were mocking me. Or, they taunted me with their sexual innuendos.

Every damned day.

Winter Wonderland became a burning hell. I did make several attempts to improve the situation. I talked to them about appropriate behavior. I made it clear that I didn't appreciate their commentary. I talked about respecting our customers. But it only made matters worse, of course. Because they didn't care. They took more pride and enjoyment in their obnoxious behavior than anything else.

Disgruntled, for the first time in my career, I tried to use my power as Santa. I arranged a visit with Fred Merkle, the department store manager. I knew Fred from previous years. He was always pleased with my work and greeted me warmly. A short, heavy-set man with short-cropped hair, Fred's cheeks were always bright red. I often joked with him that he would make a fine Santa if he would just allow himself to grow a long beard.

"What can I do for you, Santa?" he asked pleasantly.

"Well," I explained. "I must say that you have a fine operation running here. A most impressive Winter Wonderland. The kids absolutely love it, and I'm honored to be a part of it. However, most evenings I close with two teenagers, Brad and Shayna. Honestly? They're pretty rotten. Especially the boy. They put on a good show for the customers, but I find them rude and mocking. I don't appreciate their snide comments. They are extremely immature, and I would rather not work with them. I was wondering if perhaps they could be reassigned?"

I did not dare suggest that they be fired. I'm not that kind of person, even with those I don't like.

Fred leaned back and looked at me thoughtfully.

After a considerable moment of silence, he uttered: "She's a bitch wench. That girl, Shayna. Honestly, I dislike her as well. And I agree that Brad's worse. They've worked here since last January. Came in just after you left last season. They've been in several other departments. Kids' wear and house wares, I think. In fact, I think I've had this same conversation several times before."

My hopes raised.

"But, I'm afraid they have to stay put. Here's something you don't know: Shayna is Shayna Easterly, daughter of Simon Easterly, who just happens to be a part-owner of this store, not to mention several others in the region. He pays our bills. I think Mr. Easterly knows what kind of person Shayna is, but that's our problem to deal with. Shayna and Brad wanted to work in Winter Wonderland, so that's where I was 'asked' to put them. I assume that you know that Brad's her boyfriend. It would be very unpleasant for me to have to explain to Mr. Easterly why I removed his daughter from the place she wants to work. Now, if she wasn't doing her job, or if she mistreated a customer.... You see, I need something more. You say she's rude, tough to work with. I just need more. Do you have more?"

He asked the question, but from his demeanor I could see he wanted the answer to be "no." I understood the situation exactly.

"No," I said. "But if there is a matter of concern, I will visit with you about it."

"Thanks," he said. "Do know that I understand. Tough it out. Maybe she'll finally go to college next year and we won't have to deal with her and Brad anymore."

We exchanged a few other pleasantries--I truly liked the man--before I left, disappointed.

And so I had to deal with them for the duration.

But all things do end. As I focused my attention on my visitors and ignored the bratty teens I had to work with, time ticked away. Basically, I stopped speaking to Brad and Shayna, making myself all business. They continued to poke me with their jests, but I never responded, choosing only to absorb.

I thought they might tire of their sport, but I was wrong. It seemed to only encourage them.

And so I slouched towards Christmas Eve, the last work day. Usually, I looked forward to this day not because it would be my last, but because of the pure excitement and energy of my visitors. They would tell me what they would want tomorrow, and I would tell them of my schedule that night. The immediacy of the event added much excitement.

But this year I was just glad it was over. I was mentally exhausted. For those of you who have had to go to work day in and day out knowing that you were going to spend time with people that you don't like...well, those people can identify with exactly what I'm saying. I just wanted it to be over. My thoughts kept turning to next year and a new start. I can't remember having ever looked past Christmas Eve before.

But it was a busy day. The lines were longer. The kids were chattier. And I fell into a peaceful rhythm, barely noticing my teen tormentors.

When it all ended, I was emotionally and physically exhausted. It had been a good day. We had all been so busy that the usual negativity's hadn't surfaced.

After the last visitor exited, Brad and Shayna went to shut and lock the doors. I stepped into the small office area, which was directly behind the camera and sales counter. I pulled a soda out of the fridge and took a seat.

Another year done.

I always get nostalgic on the last day. It's not easy loving a job that employs only five weeks out of a year.

"Hey, Santa!" Brad surprised me from the doorway. "You mind if I head out a little early? I finished my checkout, and I'll put the money in the safe on the way out. Got some big plans tonight and want to get to them, if you know what I mean."

"Going to church with the family?" I retorted, not actually believing that such a hateful kid could even step foot in a church.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be worshiping at the altar, man!"

"Gotcha. Go ahead, and Merry Christmas." Honestly, I was simply glad to be rid of him. There was little to do but walk the rooms, clear the area, and lockup. This was it. Tear down would begin Tuesday, the day after Christmas. But I wouldn't be a part of that. I could care less about Brad, and I wouldn't lift a finger for him, but the thought that I might have some time to walk through Wonderland one last time and enjoy it all by myself was somewhat appealing.

"You're boss, dude!" And away Brad went. No goodbye, not that it mattered.

I packed the few things I kept there on hand into my briefcase. Generally, I left my suit in a locker there, but--since it was the last night--I decided to keep it on. My car was on the bottom floor of the store garage, and I had a discreet entryway. I had no worries about surprising some child on Christmas Eve. I did notice that Sam, who worked as Santa on some weekday mornings, had left his suit on the hook. A bit odd for him. Usually he locked it up.

I left the room and re-entered Santa's house. The overhead lights were out, but the tree lights were still on. I loved the effect. It was all fake, but in the soft tree light, the room had a magical feel. There is something truly beautiful about the holidays.

I soaked in the atmosphere one last time. It had been a rough season, at times, but the beauty of this moment made that seem suddenly distant.

My moment of peace was broken by a sudden rustling in the chimney. Startled, I almost cried out in surprise. Someone was in the chimney. I froze.

"Oh, Santa!" A high-pitched girl's voice.

More rustling. And then: Dangling in the fireplace, two green Elven boots with curled pointy toes. Attached were two naked legs, visible to just above the knee.

It was Shayna! She must have been hanging down from the ladder hidden inside the chimney. It occurred to me that she had no idea that I was here. Brad should be here to help her close. Only Brad.

I smiled, enjoying the view, thinking of her soon-to-be surprise and embarrassment.

"Santa!" she called playfully, wiggling her legs frantically.

The moment seemed surreal. Santa's red velvet throne, the soft glow of the Christmas lights, the huge fireplace, the naked legs....

And then, she dropped down inside the chimney, still standing.

My mouth fell agape.

Shayna's tight, naked butt faced me. She was bottomless save for her Elven boots. Though her hips were not wide, her lower body still showed the rounding of an hour-glass female form. But what struck me most were her butt cheeks. I have never seen fleshy muscle so tight. The cheeks rounded out towards me, brilliantly toned. There was no lower curve, no overhang. The muscles simply rounded down and merged--perfectly--with her upper thighs. A deep crevice ran between her checks, created by the sharply rising and rounding flesh.

It was the butt of dreams--especially for an older man used to seeing the collapsed tissues of aged women. I had never sensed that Shayna had such a nice body. She had seemed so thin and unappealing in her baggy Elven costume.

"Uh-oh! Help me! Please! Santa, are you there?" It was Shayna, but there was no trouble. Her voice was playful. I realized that she was calling for Brad. She and Brad always closed together. She expected him to be here. So this is what they did! Sex games.

Only Brad wasn't here. There was only me.

I smirked to myself. If Shayna knew that I was the one watching.... I delighted myself with how delicious her surprise would be. I began to form the words in my mind, practicing the revelation. It's not Brad, Shayna. But Santa does love your tight little ass.

The words almost reached my lips, but I couldn't reveal myself now. Things could get better, I thought.

"Santa! I'm stuck in the chimney! I need your help!" Her high-pitched voice trembled with mock fright. She waved her tight little ass back and forth, her skin stretched so hard that it barely creased as she moved.

"Oh, Santa! I'll do anything if you help me get out of this dirty old chimney!"

With those words, she moved backwards (towards me) a step or two and partially bent over. She wasn't truly spread eagle, but her legs were apart enough to give a glimpse of her shielded delights. The protruding folds of her clitoris told me that she was ready for and wanted action.

I couldn't resist any longer. With having formed any plans, I instinctively stepped forward.

I was, though, extremely conscious that this episode would end the moment she sensed who I was. Still dressed in my Santa suit, I felt that I had an advantage. Shayna seemed to expect that Brad would go and put the Santa suit on. (It vaguely occurred to me that Shayna had probably placed Sam's Santa suit in the office area, where she expected Brad to be working at this moment.) With my gloved hands, she would not know that those hands placed on her belonged to someone else, a much older man. My thoughts grew lustier. At first, I planned to only enjoy the sights. Now, I considered touching...and perhaps more.

I took three hard steps towards her, making sure that my boots firmly hit the ground.

"Santa! Is that you! I'm so glad that you've come to help me!"

On those words, I reached out with my gloved hand and placed it on her lower back. I also extended one booted foot to the chimney entrance. I wanted her to be able to glimpse the costume.

"Ooooh! Santa!" she cooed. "Your gloves are so cold!"

Smirking to myself, I lifted my hand and extended one finger. I placed it in the uppermost groove of her butt, maintaining a firm touch. She tensed immediately.

"Santa!" she said with feigned surprise and in a pleased tone.

Here I need to say that I really stopped thinking clearly. My mind danced with naughty possibilities. My excitement building, I began to slowly lower my finger, tracing the groove of her butt. Honestly? Though the plastic glove fit me tightly, I felt nothing. There was no physical sensations at all. But my eyes were feasting on this unblemished teenage flesh. The pure thrill! The sheer naughtiness! Santa had a major hard-on.

To add to the fun, Shayna slightly rolled her hips, tightening her butt cheeks, putting pressure on my finger. Enjoying the firm touch, I wiggled my finger.

As I continued following the line, my finger dipped suddenly in, and I realized I realized that I had reached her asshole. The mere thought! This irritating bitch who made my evenings miserable, who relished mocking and ridiculing me--now I stood here with my finger on her ass--and she was loving it!

"Oh, Santa! You are so naughty!" she huffed. I would like to tell you that she said this in a sultry, sexy voice, but--honestly--it was in that annoying, nasally monotone. And she was a terrible actress.... But who cares! I didn't.

I considered simply ramming my finger up her ass as far as it could go, but I was forming other plans. A few more presses and I dropped my finger down to the crème de la crème: Her heaving pussy.

I could not feel her wetness through the glove; however, as my finger began to slide more easily, with little resistance, I knew she was ready. I repositioned myself to get a better view. Protruding folds intermixed with brown hairs. (Ah, the natural color revealed!) She was fully aroused by the game. Gently, I slid my finger up and down and around her clitoris, only lightly touching the outer lips. I wanted to excite her as much as possible. This did come across to me as ironic. I hated this bitch, but here I was taking the time to maximize her pleasure.

Shayna had grown quiet, with heavy breathing. She began push her hips back against me, trying to force my finger into her. Gads! If only she knew! I resisted her advances and continued my light external touching.

"Oooooh! Deeper, Santa!" she begged, or more accurately grunted.

With quickness, I removed my touch altogether, looking on wickedly. She again inched her legs (and butt) towards me. Smiling, I placed my right hand on the small of her back and extended only the middle finger of my left hand. Without touching her body, I positioned that finger at the point of entry and...wham! With the full force of my left hand, I shoved the finger into her pussy. Full penetration was instantaneous. She jumped forward with the force. Without hesitation, I began to push in and out as fast as I could. She showed her pleasure by pushing back into me. And so it went: As I pushed in, she pushed out. As I came back, she went forward. The force of our impact echoed in the chimney. I kept my eyes, of course, on that delectable little rear.

As the plastic-gloved finger penetrated again and again, a wet squishy sound filled the room. It sounded uncomfortable. It may have felt uncomfortable, as well.

"Santa," she heaved, with difficulty. "I want to feel you. I want your naked cock."

I had no qualms, no qualms at all about taking her incognito. I felt the pressure in my loins. As much as I despised her, I wanted that body. She was young, but experienced. I lightly reflected on legal ramifications, but I never heard of a charge of rape when a person asked for sex. Besides, she wanted Santa--she said so--and that's who I was. It also occurred to me that this was the daughter of my employer. But I had never met the man- and never would. Besides, if he wouldn't hire me next year, someone else would. You might be surprised how little this mattered to me.

I did have a real concern: What if my touch differed from Brad's? I had no idea what women felt. If there were different sizes, then I guess there would be different feelings. What if she felt that I was different and turned to face her fucker?

I didn't have time to think of the possibilities.

"Now, Santa! I need you know!" She shook her little butt up and down excitedly. It was so tight that the flesh barely moved.

With minor difficulty, I unhooked my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and dropped them to my knees (my Santa pants had no zipper). My cock was thick and full--like the old days. I hadn't felt so strong in years. Though I still enjoyed sex, I admit that my wife's aged body rarely excited me to the maximum. But tonight!

With my hands still gloved, I grasped her right hip with one hand and positioned my cock at the entrance of her pussy with the other. With an admitted gulp, I entered her.

How to describe? Tight! I had to push with unexpected force. Having made love only to my wife for the past decade, I can't say that I ever remember having to emit such energy only to enter an aroused pussy. Shayna grunted hard as I did so. The engulfing warmth of her vagina sent immediate tingles up through my body. I realized, hopelessly, that this was going to be quick.

"Brad! I've never felt you so big!"

It was the first time that she broke character. My pulse quickened but my resolve was untouched.

With heaving force I thrust forward, and then followed suit again, and again.

"Brad?" She spoke again. This time her voice uncertain.

I tightened the grasp of my hands on her hips and continued.

"Brad!?" Her doubt was clear. I sensed her trying to move forward, but I held her tightly in position.

I listened intently as I pounded away. I could hear only heavy breaths. Then...she pushed back, into me. Not in an attempt to escape, but to engage more deeply. I pushed back with a harder thrust, sincerely trying to knock her through the chimney. In seconds we established a powerful rhythm. As I moved back, she moved forward. When I came forward, she moved back. Sounds of slapping flesh permeated the room.