What Came Down Sara's Chimney

Santa slid down the chimney at 82 Parkside Lane at approximately 1:52 AM EST December 25th, and walked right into her trap.

Totally unaware of and unprepared for such vile deception, he spent a precious moment lovingly admiring the tree decorated with tiny colored lights and fragile glass ornaments, and then he surveyed the stockings hung off the mantel, stuffed a few goodies in each, and left a package under the tree, settling it in with the others already there so it wouldn't stand out. He loved leaving surprises.

Before the night was over he'd leave more surprises there than he'd expected, and get one or two of his own.

On the dining room table sat a round pewter tray covered in a glass dome. Under the dome sat a tall glass of milk and three cookies decorated in green and red sparkles. Unable to resist the treat, Santa gently lifted the dome off the tray.

Doing so set off an alarm in the bedroom just off the top of the stairs, waking the house's sole occupant, Sara Teasdale. With incredible glee Sara slipped naked out of bed and into her robe and descended the stairs.

Santa stood before the fireplace, looking quite dumbfounded. Lifting the dome had also engaged a lock on the glass doors, sealing the fireplace off.

Sara stood at the bottom of the stairs and grinned as she saw him standing there, trapped.

"I can't believe it worked!" she said.

Santa, hearing her voice, turned around.

He was pretty much as she had imagined he'd be, a bit shorter perhaps. He was round and solid and all dressed in red with white faux fur trim (the real stuff had gotten him in trouble with PETA, who were already upset with his reindeer exploitation), with a wide black belt and heavy black boots. His face was lost in cascades of white beard and hair, like a grossly overweight Arlo Guthrie.

Santa placed a finger across his lips and shushed her. "You mustn't wake the children," he whispered.

Sara smirked. She was twenty-five, pretty, although at the moment a bit tousled from being in bed. Tall and slim, she had dark hair and deep eyes that absolutely shone as she observed her prize.

"There are no children," she told him, suppressing the giggles.

"But I saw the toys in the yard," Santa said. "And these stockings."

"Bait," she said. "I live alone."

Santa sighed. His list had said there were no children at that address, but when he saw evidence of them as he passed overhead he figured it was another glitch. He'd been running into problems like that ever since they computerized.

"Well, this won't stop me," he said, indicating the barricaded fireplace. "I can just as easily go out the door, you know."

Sara shook her head slowly. "I've done my research," she said.

Impatiently, Santa asked her, "How do you suppose I get in and out of all those homes that don't have fireplaces, eh? I'm Santa Claus, not Captain Kirk!"

Sara moved in closer to him, walking across plush carpet on bare feet.

"Those are the houses where you plant the ideas of what to get in the minds of the parents," she told him. "That way the gifts still come from you, although they really don't."

He stared at the locked glass doors and his shoulders slumped.

"You can't keep me here," he said. "I have a very busy night ahead of me."

She smiled and said nothing.

"If you're expecting a ransom I'm afraid you're going to be quite disappointed," he told her. "I'm not a leprechaun. I can't lead you to a pot of gold. What nonsense. We don't even use money. Money is a human contrivance. If you hadn't noticed, I'm an elf."

"Oh, I noticed," she said, coming even closer. "I've studied you all my life. Ever since I was a little girl I've wanted to meet you."

"Well, you've accomplished that," he said, puffing his chest out proudly. "The pleasure is mine. Now, if you don't mind?"

She stopped mere inches from him, and ran a slender hand down the front of his red coat.

"But I'm not a little girl any more," she said.

"As I noticed," he said. "Congratulations."

"Just meeting you isn't enough now," she told him.

He sighed. "An autograph, is it? You want me to sign your present for you?"

Sara shook her head again.

"Not even close," she told him. "Ever since I was about sixteen I've wanted to be with Santa Claus," she said. "In the biblical sense."

"Well, that's your first mistake," he told her. "Mixing me up with the bible. All that Saint Nicholas stuff, I have no idea where that started."

"This is no mistake," Sara told him in a soft voice. "I've wanted to fuck Santa Claus ever since I found out what fucking was."

Santa gasped. "I hope you got therapy for that," he said.

She shook her head again, slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

"How absolutely absurd," he said. "We're different species, my dear, don't you see? It's practically bestiality! Although, I'm not sure for which of us."

"It's close enough," she said, and pressed against him.

Santa backed away. "This won't work," he said. "There are certain ... anatomical differences that won't allow it."

"Really?" she said, and she opened the top of her robe, revealing her breasts of which she was very proud. "Elves don't have these?" she asked.

Santa blinked a few times. "Not that size, they don't," he said. "We're elves, after all." He quickly regained his composure. "But don't think I haven't seen the likes before. I see you when you're sleeping. I know when you're awake. I know when you've been bad or good, and so forth, like the song says."

Sara smirked again. It was not her best look but she couldn't help herself, being so close to her goal.

"You naughty man," she said.

"Elf," he quickly corrected.

"And I suppose," Sara said, turning around and pulling her robe aside to expose her ass, "elves don't have these?"

Santa adjusted the glasses halfway down his nose and studied her a few seconds. "Very nice," he said. "Round, firm. What a shame it's broken. There's this big crack running right up the middle."

When Sara didn't react he added, "Joke, you know. Really, it's very nice, but..."

Sara turned around again and opened her robe altogether, and she leaned back on the dining room table and spread her legs.

"And don't they have these?"

Santa choked momentarily, and drank some of the milk. "Lovely," he said breathily.

Sara was, indeed, quite a sight down there. Her mound was trimmed into a narrow triangle, and below that she was shaved clean as the proverbial whistle. Her labia shone pink and enticing between soft, alabaster thighs.

"Lovely indeed," Santa repeated, "but a bit small."

Sara was taken aback. "Small?" she asked.

"Yes," Santa said. "The one area where elves have it all over humans is in the genitalia. By comparison we are somewhat equine, I suppose."

Sara's face hardened. "Show me," she demanded.

"I won't," Santa said indignantly.

"It's the only way you're getting out of here," she told him. "Think of all those children disappointed when they find Santa never came. You haven't any choice. I won't unlock the fireplace until we do it, so, come on, let's see what you've got."

Santa sighed. He reached for the black belt surrounding his girth. "I'm telling you, it won't work," he said. "The experience could be massively traumatic to you. I should hate to have that on my conscience the rest of my days."

Her eyes were riveted to his crotch. "I'll take my chances," she said.

Santa sighed again and opened his coat. Another belt held up his red pants, and he reluctantly opened that as well.

"You could be marred for life," he warned her.

She grinned in anticipation. "I've not gotten this close to be denied now," she said lasciviously. "Do it."

Santa opened the front of his pants. "Oh, well," he said sadly. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

He dropped his pants.

The top of his boxers bulged forward and out flopped the most massive cock Sara had ever seen. His diminutive stature made it look even bigger than it was, but when she came to him and held it in her hands she was amazed at the size of it.

"It won't fit," he told her. "I tried to warn you."

She knew it wouldn't. Not only was it twice the length of the longest she'd ever seen, it was easily as wide as her leg.

"There are other ways...," she said, and sunk to her knees in front of him. She puckered her ruby lips and kissed the purple head of Santa's dick.

Santa flinched. "You shouldn't do that," he said.

She ignored him, and began to lick it and suck on as much of it as would fit in her lips. Santa rolled his eyes back.

"I think that's enough," he told her.

Sara laughed as she continued to lick his cock, holding it in both hands. "Not nearly," she said. "If I can't have it one way, I'll have it another."

"You really don't want to..." he said.

She stopped sucking him long enough to say, "Oh, you better believe I do," and then she went back to pleasuring him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he mumbled, and stopped talking because what she was doing felt far too nice to have her stop now anyway.

She could feel the pressure building inside his massive shaft and started licking him even harder.

"Come for me," she urged him.

"You'll be sorry," he said.

She attacked him, sucking and licking and she pumped his shaft with both hands.

"Ho-ho-ho my God!" Santa said.

Sara felt cum rushing up the shaft like water through a fire hose. She placed her mouth over the opening to accept the first shot.

That first shot knocked her right back on her pretty little ass.

In no time she was drenched in cum. It washed over her, white and thick. She swallowed and choked and still more came and drowned her anew. Still, she held on to his dick and milked him dry, and then she sat up, painted white head to toe, sputtering and licking her lips.

"It tastes like eggnog," she said incredulously.

"It is eggnog," Santa told her. "Where do you think the blasted stuff comes from?"

Sara sat up and fed herself palms full of his cum. "It's delicious!" she declared.

"It better be," he said, stuffing himself back in his pants. "In the off season when we're not so busy making toys we make eggnog."

She couldn't believe it. Her mind sparkled with the imagery of how that might be accomplished. "Absolutely incredible!" she declared.

Santa snorted. "You think that's impressive?" he asked her. "Wait till I show you where fruitcake comes from!"