Waiting Up For Santa

"Oh, Daddy... I've missed you so."

She voiced the words, tinged with an excited tremor, breathless and high-pitched, before her lips fell on his again. All pretense of shy hesitance was gone. She kissed her father back the way he kissed her, with the ravenous hunger of a parched and lonely lover. His hands fondled her breasts, alternately softly and brusquely, with his thick, fat fingers finding and pinching those marvelous nipples, twisting them the way he knew she loved, the way that would light a fire in her cunt and make her eager to do whatever Daddy demanded of her.

Santa moved his mouth off of her lips to the ridge of her chin, then under, then down her neck. She breathed and moaned in his firm, almost harsh grip, trembling under his touch, as he worked his mouth down her collar bone, down further to the bare tops of her marvelous breasts.

"Oooh, Daddy. Daddy..."

Through the fabric of her baby doll he took her nipple between his lips and tugged. As he did so, his tongue came out to press against the hard, resistant nub in the center, much like a finger pushing a button to activate a mechanical toy. He was rewarded with a delighted squeal of delight.

With his lips still locked on her nipple, his hands reached up to her shoulders to pull downward, firmly signaling to her what Daddy wanted now. Slowly, smoothly, but unhesitatingly his daughter slipped down to her knees. In moments she held herself there, looking up at him with a sweet, pensive expression, peeking over the protruding bulge of his round belly with wide, blue, innocent eyes.

"Do you have a present for me, Santa? A big present?"

"Unwrap it."

He said it with that deep, commanding voice that only her own father could project, the voice that struck at her innermost soul and was never, ever to be disobeyed. The depth and timbre of his baritone voice echoed in the silent, empty room. He saw her reaction reflected in her eyes and expression, as a wave of fear, and eagerness to please, passed over her face in response to his tone more than his words.

Her hands, trembling slightly, reached up to the large, square, brass buckle on his black, patent leather belt. Her eyes held his, frightened and timid, as she clumsily undid the buckle. In return he held her blue eyes with his own, stern and commanding, silently demanding that she show him no reluctance or pause.

Their eyes were their bond, their unbreakable joining, a metaphysical preface to the way they would soon merge in body as well.

In moments his cock, hard, red and angry, stuck out before her like the stiff prong of one of Prancer's antlers. Santa closed his eyes in rapture as his daughter's soft, cool, loving hand wrapped its small, gentle fingers around his shaft. He waited in the blackness behind his lids in anticipation of her hot, little mouth pressing her lips and tongue against the smooth, taut skin of his engorged cock.

As he felt the first touch of those moist, plump, warm lips pressing against and then raking across the length of his cock, Santa let loose with a moan of his own, opening his eyes to watch his beautiful, young daughter at work. To his delight her bright blue eyes now twinkled up at his, filled with their own joy, looking up at him past his belly and the shaft of the cock that was so delightfully nestled in her greedy little mouth.

Holding his cock in one slight hand, she rubbed it over her face as she smiled up at him with eyes closing in rapturous contentment.

"Yum, Daddy. I've missed you so much. I've missed tasting you so much."

Santa growled wordlessly in response, before finding the control to better voice his feelings.

"Fuck, Sugarplum, Daddy has missed you, too. Keep using that luscious mouth on Daddy's aching, lonely cock, Sweetheart. Don't stop. Ever."

WIth that he watched her mouth form a wide, precious "O", then watched some more as his cock disappeared into it like one of the presents that he delivered being dropped into his bag. The fiery bath of the insides of her mouth scorched, soaked and then hugged his cock as she sucked hard, tugging on him with all of the power her lungs and cheeks could muster.

"Oh, Yes, Sugarplum. Kristen, my darling, you are so very good at being naughty for Santa. Such a fucking naughty little girl..."

At his words, the sounds of her slurping ministrations increased. She visibly worked more eagerly at his cock, trying her best to please her daddy and to give him what she knew he craved.

"That's it, little girl. Suck Daddy's cock like the hungry little lover you want to be for him. Suck every drop of cum you can get from Daddy's cock. Swallow it all."

On command, his little girl took as much of him into her mouth as she could. He felt the soft, wet flesh of her mouth covering more and more of his cock, until its head pressed against the back of her throat and she gagged. She quickly jerked back, taking just a moment to recover, before pushing her head forward again.

This time Santa reached down with his hand to hold her head in place, adding pressure to show her that she needed to take him more deeply into her mouth, whether it was comfortable or not. The darling girl had never learned to truly deep throat on her own, but that didn't mean that she couldn't or shouldn't continue to try.

And right here, right now Santa had a burning urge to thrust his cock as far down her throat as he could. It took all of his self-control not to ruthlessly fuck her mouth now, just like he wanted to fuck her hot little cunt. He had to hold himself back, and to make it last, as much as he wanted to virtually rape her sweet little mouth and body right away.

She gagged again as he held her in place, listening to hers gurgling sounds as she struggled to control herself, and to breathe. After a few moments, before she could panic entirely, he released his hold on her, letting her pull back. Her hand came up to wipe the spittle from the corner of her mouth as she gathered herself, but being the attentive, obedient daughter that she was, she returned immediately to her task, looking up at him as if pleading for forgiveness even as her beautiful red lips parted and consumed his cock again.

Santa smiled at her, adding a touch of wickedness to his natural, jovial air. He wondered exactly how his sinfully merry twinkle looked to her at this moment, with his cock in her mouth, before she closed her eyes and set her mind wholly to the task of pleasing her father.

To help subdue his urge to take things too far too quickly with his beloved Kristen, Kris Kringle let his gaze wander around the room. He found the coo coo clock on the wall, formed like a traditional birdhouse with a tiny, blue door above a swinging pendulum shaped like three bronze leaves. The time said 1:03.

He couldn't spare too much time from his night. The population of the world had exploded to 7 billion people. They didn't all believe in Christmas, and even the ones that did believe didn't all get presents, but that didn't matter. Belief had nothing to do with giving, receiving, wanting, needing or deserving.

Or course he didn't have time to visit them all, nor would he try. If he delivered presents to everyone the jig would be up. Instead, he had to pick a chosen few, delivering little present here, something extra and unexpected there. As often as not no one noticed his addition amidst the riot of gifts, but for the person who received it it meant something very special. Sometimes, if others did notice, Mommy thought that Daddy had bought it, while Daddy assumed that Mommy had included it. Or they all just put it down to good luck, something that inadvertently wound up in one of their shopping bags, and they didn't think about it again.

That was part of Santa's Christmas Delivery Magic.

One way or the other, Santa left something special for hundreds of millions of people, young and old, around the world. Every year he touched in little ways the lives of hundreds of millions of deserving souls in need of just a little magic.

Kristen sucked hard on his cock again, then pulled it from her mouth to run her lips and tongue up and down the length of his shaft. He loved it when she did that, and she knew it. Santa stopped his train of thought to watch her at work. She was such a marvelous cock sucker. This was exactly what she had been doing, just this way, the day that Mrs. Kringle had caught them at it.

Santa closed his eyes. Kristen sucked her daddy's cock. Christmas Bells, the girl could suck daddy's cock. He felt the cum building in his shaft. She'd barely been at it at all, and already she had her daddy so close to the edge. He felt no need to hold back any more. They had enough time to do so much more, especially if he cheated this year and kept his southeast Asia stops to the bare minimum, and cut back on some of the tedious frills like adjusting ornaments on trees and such.

"I love you, Daddy."

Her words pushed him to the very brink. His hands again fell to her hair, where he gently but firmly guided her mouth back onto his cock. He pushed it between her lips and then controlled her pace as she bobbed, back and forth on his shaft, coating it with her wet, shining spit. The sight and feel of it became more than he could take.

"Take Daddy's love, Sugarplum. Swallow all of Daddy's love!"

He bellowed the words as his cock exploded in her mouth. It stiffened and jerked, followed by a blast of liquid love shooting straight into her hot, little mouth. She pulled away, as she so often did, so that his second spasm sent a ribbon of gleaming silver-white semen across her closed eyelid and the bridge of her nose. Her mouth opened wide, head tipped back, to catch her daddy's third streamer of cum across her greedy lips and tongue.

She held herself there, prettily posed, with his rivers of cum stretched across her face, as well as small pools of it on her lips and tongue and teeth. It had been a very long time since Santa had come, so there was a lot of it for his sweet little girl to wear. She smiled contentedly, eyes closed and relaxed, looking beautiful and sexy for her daddy with her daddy's cum so copiously spread across her face.

"You decorate me so well, Daddy, like only Santa could," she said, with ribbons of cum hanging from her nose and chin like strands of tinsel on a tree.

She laughed then with a sound like the bells on his sleigh.

"I missed you so much, Daddy."

She said it, quickly, then set her tongue to licking across her lips, ostentatiously gathering what cum she could easily reach to pull it into her greedy, sexy mouth. Wide, innocent blue eyes looked shyly up at his, with a strand of white goo stretched across her brow and nose. The lights of the Christmas tree and the fire together flickered within that sinful mirror.

"You're such a good little girl, Kristen."

She beamed a happy, proud smile at him.

"Thank you, Daddy. Am I on your nice list now?"

He had to fight to hold back his trademark "ho, ho, ho," giving her a warm chuckle and a long, loving gaze instead.

* * *

Santa glanced at the clock, which still read 1:03, while he listened for the sound of water as Kristen turned on the tap in the bathroom. It would take her just a few minutes to clean the cum from her face, then he and she could sit down at the table and catch up on things. He was so eager to see if this year had worked out better for her than the last. She'd been so sad and lonely last year, he didn't think she could last much longer.

While he waited for her to get cleaned up he figured he could visit at least twenty or thirty thousand homes. He'd head northwest, then arch south, then sweep back in a quick, short circuit.

He did the whole nose twitch thing, the tedium of which had at one time started to piss him off, but by now, after all of so many centuries of mindless repetition, it was just something that had to be done. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself for the twisting, warping sensation that was the exact and still unbearable reverse of his arrival. His body morphed and changed, and to him the world morphed and changed around him, so that his stomach felt more than just queazy. It was as if it were suddenly outside of his body, as if he'd been turned inside out, upside down, and left-side right all at the same time, while being impossibly stretched and squashed and twisted, again paradoxically all at the same time. He was here, moving that way, and his stomach was there, staying right where it was while at the same time moving that way, and then suddenly it was shooting past him and he was struggling to keep up.

Sometimes he really wondered why he didn't lose his milk and cookies each and ever time he did this, and yet he did it countless times in one night, year after year. In fact, that was the reason he needed the milk and cookies. It had a mollifying effect on the damned unsettling, sickening nature of chimney transit.

A moment later he was falling up and then out of the top of the chimney, ready to spend a few weeks visiting homes, falling down and up chimneys, and delivering presents before he returned to his beloved daughter as she exited the bathroom.

He returned 23,753 houses later, feeling a little tired and harried, but with a cock that had recovered and was eager to bed and please his loving daughter as soon as their conversation allowed. He did the whole fall-morph-almost-puke thing until he stood, once again, in front of Kristen's fireplace. He brushed off the small patches of soot. He wished he could fine-tune the magic, but the soot was an added cosmetic touch, for style rather than substance, and there was no easy way to vary it.

Kristen's clock now said 1:06. He moved to the kitchen to get out a carton of eggnog, two glasses, and a round tin of cinnamon cookies. The water in the bathroom stopped running, then moments later the door opened. She beamed a smile at him across the room, looking every bit a lovely, sexy, full-grown — if young — woman who glided towards him, emanating love and lust and admiration for him as she approached and took her seat at the table.

He smiled contently as they sat together to snack and talk.

* * *

"Have you met anyone, Sugarplum?"

Kristen's eyes rose to search his own. She looked sad. He couldn't tell if she was hurt by the question or the answer she had to give, but he knew in his heart that it was a little of both.

"No. Why, do you want me to?"

That particular response surprised him. He hadn't really expected her to be hurt, as if she were jealous, or doubted how much he loved her or being her lover.

"No. And yes. Of course I want you to be happy. I hate thinking of you out here all alone."

"I'm not all alone. I've got the toys at the store."

"Toys aren't friends, Kristen. Or lovers. Or husbands."

"I don't need a husband, Daddy."

He stared at her in silence for a while as she pushed her glass of eggnog around on the table, just as she'd done when she was a little girl.

"Your mother wants grandchildren."

Kristen looked up at him, again searching his face before letting a small, wry smile creep over her own.

"Well, that doesn't look like it's going to happen soon. Unless you do it, Daddy."

She didn't say it, but Santa could hear the "please" at the end of the sentence. He was ready for this. She'd touched on this idea during last year's visit, evoking utter, stammering shock at the time, so it didn't catch him entirely off guard now but even so he sat up a little straighter.

"Yes, well, we both know we can't do that. You need to find a boyfriend, a husband, and have babies with him. It would help your mother a lot, I think, to see happy, laughing children about again. A lot of happy, laughing children."

He twinkled a smile at her, trying to make light of her suggestion, as if neither of them really were seriously considering it, even though he knew she most certainly was. He received a stern look from her in return.

"Well, that won't happen if I find a husband here, Daddy. It's not like I can bring him and the kids back to your workshop to live."

He opened his mouth to tell her that of course she could, but she was right. How was that going to work? She'd just tell him one day that her father was Santa, and they had to move up to the North Pole, where there's no sun for half of the year? Just so Grandma and Grandpa could see their grandchildren?

As it was, he and Mrs. Kringle never should have raised her up there, with no one to socialize with except for silly, jovial, hard-working, toy-centric elves. Now that they had, and she was here in the "real" world, she was ill-equipped to live on her own, to make friends, and more importantly to meet that special someone.

* * *

"Lie on your belly under the tree."

Kristen hesitated, not because she didn't want to, but exactly because she wanted to make Daddy cross, and to have him angrily make her do as he wished. She loved it when he got angry, and forced his formidable will on her. It only took a moment for him to change his mood, and to demonstrate it with his words and his tone.

"Get down under that tree!"

Kristen bit her lower lip. As Santa moved to take a step towards her, she finally freed herself from her timorous pose and moved, quickly, to do as he bid.

"Lie down!"

Kristen knelt, facing the tree, with her back half-turned towards her father. She looked pensively over her shoulder at him.

"I said lie down. Lie down and lift that pretty, little ass up in the air."

His voice was deep and stern and loud. His voice was very loud. Kristen was moved, now, almost against her will to instantly do as she was told. She leaned forward, immediately but slowly, until her chin and shoulders touched the cold hardwood floor. Her tree was covered with bright, colorful lights, almost too many for the tree to bear, and the tree itself was already so very large. She focused her eyes on their reflections, completely covering the expanse of brown, shiny, oiled hardwood floor like the fading, scattered remnants of a dozen shattered rainbows.

"Wiggle it."

Kristen closed her eyes. She pictured her daddy behind her, watching her ass and her exposed, bare pussy, as she gyrated it from side to side and around and around, like a baby bird searching for a worm to eat. Daddy's worm. Daddy's big, hard worm.

She heard his footfalls as her daddy approached, knowing that she was about to be wonderfully, forcefully fucked. She was so wet for Daddy, so very, very wet. She could sense him kneeling behind her. An electric thrill ran through her as she felt the soft, tickling whiskers of his mustache and bushy, gray-white beard brush between and against the cheeks of her ass as he moved his mouth close to her dripping, lonely cunt.

"Daddy is going to fuck your tight, young cunt, Kristen."

The rumbling words seemed to flow through her, into her exposed pussy, up into her womb, through her tingling breasts and from there through her own throat and up to her ears from the inside. Her daddy filled her with his sexy, intrusive, commanding words, the same way he was about to fill her with his thick, forbidden, pleasure-giving cock.

"Is that what you want, Kristen?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The words had barely left her lips when they were trailed by a high pitched squeal as she felt her daddy's beard and jaw spreading her ass cheeks, to be quickly followed by the feel of her daddy's tongue pushing its way into her open, inviting slit.

"Tell Santa what you want, little girl."

His words were muffled by her own wet cunt covering his mouth.

"Fuck me, Daddy."

He growled into her body as his mouth and jaw went crazy. His lips tugged on her labia. His tongue pushed its way inside of her. It hunted around, twisting and arcing this way and that, in search of her swollen, sensitive clit. When he found it Kristen smiled in happiness. She lay there for what seemed like hours as Santa pushed his way into her cunt and her heart with his lips and tongue, preparing her for her daddy's cock.