Elves Gone Wild

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A Literotica 2021 Winter Holidays Story Contest submission. Please rate to vote.

All elves featured in this story are at least 100 years of age or older. More than old enough to get up to the debauchery you're about to read.

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"Is he gone?"

I squinted out the thin panes of the frost covered window and watched as that Most Famous Little Red-noser Of All guided the dilapidated, overloaded sleigh skyward, flying out of sight into the foggy Christmas eve.

"He's gone!" I bellowed.

The workshop filled with squeaky, high pitched cheers.

We'd busted our ass for three hundred and sixty-four consecutive days. And we had just under twenty-four hours before that red suited fat fuck would return. It was time to party!

Seasons greetings. I'm Willy, or as most others around here call me, ''Big Willy."

There are two reasons they call me that. The first is that I run this sweatshop, have for the past five hundred years, give or take. Santa gets all the credit of course, but his only real responsibility is reading through the endless Naughty Or Nice list...when he's not off banging whores on a beach in Barbados, that is. I manage all the actual production work.

By the way: Hate to break it to you, but Santa doesn't read your letters, kids. He throws them unopened into the fireplace that is our only source of heat in the workshop. He'll sure as fuck eat all those cookies you dumb little bastards leave out for him, though.

The other reason they call me Big Willy is that, at a whopping three and a half inches, I'm the most well hung elf in the North Pole. Only Santa might be bigger, but trust me: no one, including that ripe jolly old elf, has seen his cock, buried as it is under his bowlful of jelly, since the mid sixteen hundreds.

Tonight, I intended to dip my massive Christmas Pole into as many ho ho hoes as possible.

But first: I needed to get shitfaced.

My second in command, Hermey, came up behind me, patting me on the shoulder. "We did it, boss. Congrats on another successful season."

He handed me his flask and I drank heavily, then spat in disgust. "What the fuck is this? Eggnog??? Get this swill away from me!"

I headed back to my bunk to break out the secret stash in my foot locker.

One of the perks of working for a guy who can travel the world without the worries and constraints of borders or customs officials is that you can have just about anything smuggled in if you knew the right people.

Uncut Peruvian cocaine, psychedelic mushrooms from Spain, pure China white heroin, moonshine straight from the Black Hills of Dakota, and only the best strains of weed from Australia, Kazakhstan, the Netherlands, and the good ol' U.S. of fucking A.

I grabbed a bottle of Chivas Regal and a tightly rolled Cuban to start, then directed Hermey and his lover Twink to begin distributing the rest of the party favors to the already holly jolly staff.

By midnight, the party was in full Beast Mode.

Dinky the DJ had the tunes pumping full blast. No Silent Night or Jingle Bells here, kids. Just some of the hottest vinyl from the likes of Parliament Funkadelic, Curtis Mayfield, A Tribe Called Quest, The Roots, Public Enemy, etc. The only Christmas song allowed was the one by Run D.M.C.

Milly, Tilly and Lilly, known collectively as the BJ Sisters, were already performing a lewd, topless bump and grind on the makeshift dance floor, wreaths of mistletoe strung from the ceiling above. (Side note: Originally, the tradition was to give blowjobs under the mistletoe. You can thank the puritanical Christians who appropriated the pagan custom for ruining that for you.)

Lines were already forming to the left, middle and right of them as the guys waited, pointy ears twitching expectantly, for the girls to get high enough to begin what would become an all night bukakke party. I didn't bother waiting in line; as a senior staff member, everyone knew I could cut in and give all three of them a taste of my Yule Log whenever I wanted.

But first, I wanted to find Noel. She was my secretary, and a damn good one. She deserved a big Christmas bonus, and I planned on giving it to her personally.

I found her at the bar, sipping a frozen Margarita. Why the fuck anyone living in the Arctic would want a frozen drink was beyond me, but hey, whatever got her lubricated, right?

She was looking fine in her short green skirt and red fringed sweater. Her long blonde hair flowed from beneath her bell topped cap, and when her baby blue eyes saw me coming, a devilish grin formed on her ruby red lips.

I bellied up to the bar beside her, my hand sliding casually under her skirt. If she'd started the day wearing panties, she sure as hell wasn't now. "Good," I thought as I teased her bunghole, "one less thing to have to take off."

"Hey, Boss," she cooed as my fingers now explored her already wet slit. "Been waiting for you." Noel kissed me, her tequila flavored lips tugging at mine as she lifted her knee and placed her hairless cunt against my crotch, dry humping my rapidly expanding bulge.

"Slow down, baby," I growled, "Daddy needs a pick me up first."

Grabbing Noel by the hips, I lifted her onto the bar, threw up her skirt and spread her legs like an angel's wings.

I pulled out a glass vial and proceeded to pour out two long, fat lines of blow directly on her bald mound. Noel held steady as I leaned in and snorted them one at a time, then licked the crystal remnants off her hot flesh.

The adrenaline rush kicked in immediately. After eight hundred years of living in a constant fucking blizzard, it was the only snow I actually enjoyed.

I poured another line directly over her cunt this time, inhaling it along with her musky scent, a curious mix of sensations. I lost most of the blow to the moisture seeping from her cleft, but it didn't matter; I had plenty. I licked it from her, tasting her slick coppery flavor for only a few moments before the coke numbed my tongue.

Noel was squirming impatiently. "You gonna fuck me, or just torture me all night?"

I pulled out a small silver spoon and gave her a toot for each nostril before reaching down to unbuckle my black leather waist belt, freeing my pantaloons to drop around my pointy shoe'd feet.

My three point five inch monster was raging like an Abominable Snowman. I satisfied it by plunging deep into Noel's dark, damp cave.

Her two turtle doves bounced furiously under her sweater as I plowed her, and several onlookers had to grab their drinks off the shaking bar to keep them from spilling as my jingle balls rocked merrily against her marshmallow ass.

Noel sang in exultation, joyful and triumphant as she began to cum like Old Faithful.

Not done with her yet, I yanked her up and bent her over the bar. I spread her snowball shaped bum, exposing her holy star. I did two more lines of coke off her ass, chased it with a swallow of the Chivas, then took a hit off the bong the cute little redheaded elf who'd appeared beside me held out. "Don't wander off," I winked at her as I puffed out the smoke that encircled my head like a wreath. "You're on clean up duty."

With that I stuffed Noel's hole like a Christmas goose. I couldn't tell what was squeaking louder: her voice or her asshole. I'd gone in dry, and it was literally like trying to fuck a balloon knot.

My chestnuts roasted on the open fire of her cunt as I came down her chimney, leaving her bowels coated in a winter wonderland of spunk. I pulled out of her with a plop, my cock covered in what looked like ashes and soot...but wasn't.

I turned to the redhead. "Tippy, right?"

"Pippy," she corrected shyly.

"Whatever," I shrugged, hitting the bong again. "Clean that mess up, will ya?"

Pippy dropped to her knees and obediently licked me clean. Her glazed, stoned eyes stared up at me as her eager mouth gagged on my bough, lips buried in my tinsel, slurping and sucking like a Hoover over a shag carpet.

When I'd decided she'd done a good enough job sanitizing my shaft, I decided to reward her with a treat and blew a hot cup of Christmas cheer down the back of her throat. Her eyes teared as her gag reflex kicked in, but I held her by her scarlet pigtails until I'd finished, then released her. She gasped and sputtered for air.

Now I suppose you're asking yourself at this point: how the hell did I manage to cum again so fast?

The answer is simple: We elves are magic. Now stop asking stupid fucking questions.

I turned back to Noel. "I'm gonna go mingle. You coming?"

Noel was busy jerking off both Buddy and Holly from the maintenance department. "Not yet," she winked as she tugged at their tiny crickets, "but maybe, baby."

That Noel, I chuckled to myself. Always quick with the double entendres.

I left my pantaloons lying on the beer soaked floor and strutted off to join the rest of the party, still naked from the waist down.

Things were really getting heated up.

Hermey and Twink were already busy making the Yule-tide gay. I watched as Hermey tied Twink off with a rubber hose, preparing to shoot him up while he buggered him from behind. Apparently they liked to ride the dragon while they rode the Hershey Highway. I gave them a thumbs up as I passed. "Don't forget to push out the air bubbles," I cautioned Hermey.

The BJ Sisters were still center stage on the dance floor, the show now truly in session.

Milly was handling cocks like a juggler, switching hands from one to the other to the next in an absolutely stunning effort to jerk off the ten guys encircling her at once. She never missed a beat as she caught my eye. "You can jump in whenever you're ready, Big Willy."

I grinned at her slyly. "Maybe later. Looks like you got your hands full already."

Tilly was taking a more practical approach to her cum shower. One cock in her ass, two in her cunt, another two in her mouth and one in each hand. Oh, and she was stroking off yet another guy with her feet.

"You should've gotten a job at a circus, Tilly," I called out with a laugh. "You'd have made a great contortionist."

Tilly grunted her acknowledgement through stuffed lips and went back to work.

Lilly was much less busy. She was merely taking it in the ass from Bing in accounting.

"Slow night, Lilly?" I asked.

"Saving a hole for you, Big Willy," she grinned. "Got a few still available."

Lilly was the least attractive of the three sisters, but that only made me want her more, because she tended to work harder to please. She accepted my rod in her mouth eagerly, easily taking it to the back of her throat.

I found myself face to face with Bing, still plugging away at her butt. He awkwardly extended his hand in greeting, but I refused, because who the fuck knew where his fingers had been recently.

Lilly gobbled away at me like a Thanksgiving turkey as Bing spoke up nervously. "So I was crunching some numbers this morning and things aren't quite adding up on our annual budget," he puffed between thrusts.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bing," I cut him off angrily. "The one night of the year we get to cut loose and you wanna talk SHOP???"

Bing gulped in terror. "S...s...sorry, Big Willy," he stammered.

"Just blow your wad on her and get the fuck out of here," I growled. "Go take a quaalude and chill the fuck out or something."

Lilly let loose a wet fart as Bing pulled out his raisin sized weiner, squirted his measly load on her back, and scuttled off like a frightened rat.

If that son of a bitch had discovered I'd been skimming funds and cooking the books, he'd soon be sleeping under six feet of solid ice. Preferably in a spot where the polar bears shit on a regular basis.

Those pleasant thoughts were interrupted by Lilly's frantic struggles. Apparently, in my anger, I'd grabbed her head and pushed my cock so deep she couldn't breath. Her face had turned a frightening shade of purple.

I released my grip and she came up for air, gasping like a drowning penguin. (If you've never seen a penguin drown, trust me, you don't want to. It's not a pretty sight.)

I'd just finished painting her face in a Bob Ross-esque winter landscape when the door to the shop flew open with a bang.

There, standing in the doorway, snowflakes swirling around her as the wind outside howled, was Mrs. Claus.

The room went deathly silent as her eyes scanned the den of sordid debauchery.

"Where's Big Willy???" she barked.

I smacked my cock on Lilly's face a few times, shaking off my last drops before I responded. "Maggie! It's about damn time!"

The music started playing again as everyone resumed their debased activities.

Mrs. Claus...Margaret to her friends, (I was the only one who could get away with calling her Maggie besides the scraggly bearded candidate for a heart attack she called a husband) sauntered over and bent down to give me a warm hug.

"Sorry, my love," she purred, "but I was putting the finishing touches on the last batch of those 'special' cookies you like. A couple of the boys should be bringing them over shortly."

Let me tell ya, kids: you haven't been TRULY high until you've tried one of Mrs. Claus' Psychedelic Sugar Cookies. I made the mistake of ingesting two of them once and wound up comatose for over a week. But the shit I got up to before I blacked out has become the stuff of legend. I was seriously considering trying three of them tonight.

Mrs.Claus bent at the knees and grabbed my still raging boner. "Tell me you saved some for me, Willy," she said in a voice so sultry I exploded another wave of cum right in her hand. "Don't sweat it, Mags," I grinned, devil may care, "you know me. I still got plenty in the tank."

Mrs. Claus stood to her full height and, with a wicked smile, stripped off her red with white trim dress.

Don't let all those old lady pictures of her in books fool you. Mrs. Claus is a bonafide M.I.L.F. (Myth I'd Like to Fuck.)

Her massive double D breasts were supported by a cupless underwire red bra, nipples standing out like two crimson Christmas bulbs.

Her red fishnet stockings were held up by straps attached to the crotchless panties that framed her full, pure white winter bush, perfectly matching the shade of her luxurious, flowing locks.

Her ice blue eyes fixed on me with determination as she pushed me down to the filthy, sticky floor and straddled me in one swift motion.

Mrs. Claus was a full fledged Dom, and the only female in this part of the Northern Hemisphere I'd let push me around and take control.

"You better," she growled, "I've been waiting all goddamn year to get laid. That pitiful excuse for a husband of mine hasn't been able to get it up for me since the Great Depression."

I thought about telling Maggie about the cartons of Viagra we had shipped in special for Santa's Barbados excursions, but thought better of it. She probably knew anyway; she knew everything around here, including my money laundering schemes. A few more decades and we'd be able to free ourselves from this frozen hellscape of indentured servitude and buy our own private island. Somewhere tropical, where it never...fucking...SNOWED.

But for now, we settled for our annual tryst. Maggie positioned her plump pussy over my stump and planted herself on it with an angry groan.

"You call that a cock?" she hissed, smacking my face. "It's barely the size of a holly sprig!"

Confused? Of course you are. But I'm not surprised. I pegged you for a Short Bus passenger the moment I saw you, scrolling through these pages with your dead sheep eyes. But okay, I'll explain. In small words.

My cock IS huge. For an elf. But Mrs. Claus is a regular sized person. Get it now?

Dumbass. Anyway...

Maggie bounced on my, to her, pathetic excuse for a cock with a lustful rage, her blood red nails digging into the pale white flesh of my thighs as she berated and abused me for her pleasure.

I didn't mind. She was literally a Goddess, and my pain was her pleasure.

"Don't you dare cum in me, you little freak," she commanded, "I don't wanna have another one of your little freak babies!" (Don't ask. Long story. Didn't end well.)

"Yes, Mistress." I ceded all control to her as she ground herself against me, attempting to stimulate her fat, swollen clit at the base of my shaft to achieve orgasm.

She finally came in a hot gush of ejaculate, running down my balls to join the sticky mess already soaking into the cracked wooden floorboards.

"I guess that will have to do for now," she said sternly, lifting herself off of me with a wet plop. "I give you permission to cum. Jerk it for me, now! Cum for your Mistress."

I flogged my overcooked noodle like Santa flogged those poor fucking reindeer in order to get their sorry asses off the ground. My cum erupted in a geyser of spunk that landed on my stomach and chest.

Mrs. Claus scooped it up with her fingers and shoved the gooey mess in my mouth. "Eat it, you pathetic worm."

I swallowed my baby batter with an exaggerated gulp, opening my mouth after to show her I'd obeyed.

Her face softened a bit. "Good boy. Knew I kept you around for something." Then she spit on me.

Just then the doors flew open again, and Maggie's kitchen minions came marching in, carrying tray after tray of her special cookies.

Mrs. Claus watched them enter with a hungry look on her face, then turned back to me. "Oh Tannenbaum," she said softly.

It was our safeword, and it meant our little role-play was over...for now.

Maggie pulled me up off the floor with a compassionate smile. "I need a drink," she sighed. "And one of those cookies. See you in the dungeon later?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course, Mags," I grinned. She smiled and tottered off towards the bar.

I pulled out my vial and spoon and gave myself a heaping double dose of nose candy, then headed over to direct the idiot kitchen servers. "One... cookie... per person," I instructed them slowly, like the morons they were. They nodded stupidly, then scattered around the room to serve the eagerly awaiting throngs.

I pulled one server aside and grabbed my own cookie and then, looking around to make sure no one was watching, pocketed two more.

Nibbling at a cookie, I went off to see if I could find Noel again.

It was gonna be a LONG night. But definitely not a silent one.