Father Christmas' Great Red Coat Ch. 01

Malcolm did not draw the curtains but just climbed into bed, his penis still leaking as it subsided. He would clear up his window glass in the morning. He kept 'Windolene' to hand -- an unusual thing in a bedroom.

Does a voyeur really wish to participate? Or is the pleasure simply in the watching? The safety of observation from a distance and not having to perform. Faced with the reality, the invitation to join in, would many voyeurs find themselves not up to the challenge, their penises failing to rise, not maintaining 'wood', or simply falling away too soon and unfulfilled. Would the reality of the invitation -- please do intrude -- be too much of a shock? Fantasy easier to cope with than reality.

Malcom awoke from sweet dreams and drew his curtains -- not to open but to close them. A voyeur does not perhaps wish to be seen! And he was naked. Despite retirement he still undertook some work -- and this year, as last, he had indeed been employed in a role suitable to his appearance -- Father Christmas at the local department store. Very much a seasonal job. And he did not need to wear a false beard!

Let us not imagine Malcom was some creepy old man taking sexual pleasure in having children sit upon his knee. No, absolutely not. Young women maybe -- quite a different matter and, almost certainly, he would relish that; but what young mother did that and sit upon his knee? Young men would not go amiss either. Malcolm could certainly imagine fine young men upon his knee - and did.

His twinkling and roving eye certainly took in the young mothers, and he stored the memory for 'bedtime' when he could imagine a scene somewhat different from the 'Santa's Grotto' made of tinsel, crepe paper and papier mache at the local department store. His thoughts took him to a rather more realistic grotto or even a cabin away in the wilds of Lapland or somewhere. A snowy landscape through the window and him sitting on a firm wooden chair with a fire burning merrily in the grate. Upon his knee a pretty young woman, maybe a young mother, maybe a pregnant young mother -- Malcom rather liked their rounded tummies and what it implied they had been up to. Perhaps getting each to tell him, uncle like, all about it -- the impregnation as, maybe, he stroked their 'bump'.

Naked, well why not, or at least a pretty light dress with little underneath, the young bottom warm upon his knee.

"And what would you like as a present for Christmas?"

"A nice dildo please. My boyfriend just doesn't satisfy me."

How good to produce one from his sack, despite the wrapping paper its shape obvious. "You can unwrap it now."

The girl tearing at the paper, opening the wrapping at the knob end, and then drawing the pretty paper down as if it was a foreskin. Malcolm liked to imagine the dildo as very realistic. Just the sort of cock he would like to hold and play with.

"It looks a bit big," just the sort of words Malcolm liked to hear -- well he had put them in her mouth! "May I try?" The delightful fantasy would go on.

Malcolm bathed and breakfasted and got ready to head for the store. A nine to five job which he was very pleased with. It was a pleasant way to spend a day, giving joy to all those children and he had a nice and easy patter. He was very happy in his work. The more so when he discovered who his new assistant, his 'elf' was; the previous girl had been OK but had another rather better paid job to go to and he knew the store had found a replacement. What he had not expected was it to be the girl he had been watching through binoculars the night before, a girl he had seen in her entirety many, many times, a girl whose boyfriend's hand he had watched busy in her sex, the girl he had ejaculated to, very considerably ejaculated the night before -- it was Sylvie.

Sylvie was less surprised to see him. Malcolm, after all, was perfect for the role -- not that Sylvie with her small frame did not fit the popular conception of an elf. Sylvie had rather more on than she had had the night before. She was not just coming out of her bathroom. Already dressed in costume -- a nice little green pinafore long dress with a red shirt underneath. Long red socks. She had put her hair into pigtails and a bright red woolly bobble hat surmounted her head. It was all rather pleasing, certainly to a rather randy old gentleman like Malcom.

Dressed in his long red, white faux fur edged coat and black shiny boots Malcolm sat upon his 'throne.' He started the day with the hood up as the 'management' expected but that soon came down. The store was not so much warm as hot, certainly in the 'grotto.' Malcolm had quickly realised that wearing trousers, shirt and even jumper underneath was not a good idea. Not one bit. He had become steadily less dressed beneath the great red coat as the days had progressed. Somewhat unusual perhaps but are not ladies near as naked under a dress, so it was hardly different... really. His coat so long there was not a risk of bare knees showing. It was comfortable.

Sylvie was really good with the mums and dads and children. Perhaps particularly good with the dads. The day went like clockwork, and everyone was happy. Nice too, to eat lunch in the staff canteen with Sylvie. Great amusement always with the shop assistants and office staff having Father Christmas and his elf waiting at the servery with their trays. So enjoyable to talk to Sylvie.

It was a few days later, right at the end of the day when the managing director came into the grotto to talk to Malcolm. His approach very much management by walking around. He was effective. Sylvie edged away leaving the two men talking. The manager was pleased and talked for some time.

It was not quite like a theatre at the store, but Malcolm did have a dressing room. The building old and with rather a lot of spare space behind the retail areas. Father Christmas' dressing room came complete with a shower -- which was rather good at the end of a hot day. Malcolm walked back to his room from his talk with the MD. His hand reached and turned the door handle and he saw what, in reality he had seen many times before, though Sylvie was not -- most certainly not -- to know that. It was a rather lovely, brown skinned elf presented to his eyes. Obviously, an elf because of the long red socks reaching to her knees but absolutely nothing else. Sylvie without clothes, Sylvie turning in shock but not before Malcolm had seen and admired, as he often did, her lovely bottom.

She turned hurriedly so her bottom was not on view, a hand reached down and covered her fur whilst another came up to cover breasts.

Malcolm was not in the wrong changing room.

"I... I was just going to borrow the shower. I thought you'd be ages yet and I locked the door." It was not, of course, her changing room. She was not to know the lock did not work.

Malcolm stepped through the door and closed it hurriedly so that no one passing could see in. He turned deliberately away from Sylvie towards the door.

"Oh dear, Sylvie, that's a bit of a shock for an old man! Go on, have your shower." There was no shower in Sylvie's room.

"I'm going out this evening, straight from the shop, I thought..."

"Go on, no harm done. Have your shower." He stood staring at the door and did so until he heard the shower door close, and the water start. Slowly he turned and there through the frosted glass of the shower cubicle was Sylvie, her naked body heavily obscured but clearly naked -- she was, after all, in the shower.

Malcolm undid his wide black belt and the buttons of his robe and hung it on a peg. He stood looking at the pleasing sight of Sylvie' something more than outlined body, showering through the obscured glass. Perhaps he might see more of her before bed through his binoculars. In her shower she was not to know that 'Father Christmas' was standing there naked but for almost knee length black boots and with a full erection, a very full erection, even if she might well think he might be staring at the glass. Malcolm stroked for a few moments thinking just how good it would be to get into the hot shower with her. What would it be like to rub his cock against her wet, soapy, and delightful body?

When Sylvie came out Malcolm was just doing up his tie. Trousers on and completely respectable. He turned away so she could unwrap the towel and dress.

"Have a good evening," he said, pulling on jacket and overcoat. He left, opening the door a bare minimum, and not looking back.

"Did you have a good evening?" Malcolm asked the next day.

Sylvie went a delightful shade of red that matched Malcolm's red coat. He was once again fully dressed as Father Christmas and his elf was in her costume. He had not seen more of her that night. He had been asleep by the time she and Elvin had returned home. Malcolm had not had to use the Windolene in the morning. His semen remained in his balls -- balls that were at that moment dangling freely under his coat, below his thickening cock.

He very much remembered the sight of Sylvie in the flesh and not through binoculars. What a lovely little bottom.

Sylvie had had a good evening but was profuse in her apologies. Malcom of course said she was welcome to use his shower any time. It was not a problem.

Would it be a problem if, incredibly, unbelievably something came of all that. If Sylvie perhaps suggested for speed, they showered together. The thought of her perhaps lathering him, paying especial attention to his penis and balls -- his large penis and balls. Malcolm knew they were larger than Elvin's. Considerably larger. Would that please Sylvie -- please her a lot?

"Do your knees get tired with all those children sitting on them hour after hour?"

It was a quiet moment one morning. No queue of mothers and children. Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. They are not that heavy and with feet firmly on the ground it doesn't tire. Would do if it were the mums -- um, especially... that last one!"

"She was rather large!"

Sylvie in her green pinafore dress, red shirt and green long socks came over and sat on Father Christmas' knee. She was not large. Not large at all. It would have made a good photograph for advertising the store.

"Not a lot of weight to you, Sylvie." Not generally, but her chest was fairly weighty and sitting there with the girl on his knee and his white bearded head rather by her chest, Malcolm could rather see down her cleavage. Malcolm knew both of her boobs by sight, knew them very well through his binoculars. Had admired them wet from the shower or bath or in Elvin's hands, being very considerably manipulated. Even so, with the young woman on his knee he felt a familiar stirring under his robe. He hoped Sylvie would not feel the involuntary action.

"I keep myself in trim."

Malcolm had seen her go running in her shorts and shirt. Had enjoyed the sight and rather wished he could give her a vigorous rub down after the run. She talked a little about exercise as she sat there and then said something more about the children sitting there on his knee. "I must be getting rather heavy," she said. Malcolm really did not think so.

As the sound of the bell, Sylvie hopped off Malcolm's lap and headed to the grotto's entrance. Malcolm watched her bottom beneath her dress. Very nice. He would think more about that later. For now he composed himself, his thoughts returning to his role.

The second afternoon shift ended, and Malcolm and Sylvie walked together from grotto to changing rooms.

"Might I borrow your shower?"

They went into Malcolm's room together. He did not really want to pace up and down outside. He sat on a chair, turning it away from the shower cubicle. He was surprised to find Sylvie hopping back onto his lap.

"Santa, you didn't ask me what I wanted for Christmas."

"Well... Sylvie," he tried to contain his surprise, "and what do you wish for Christmas? What shall I bring down your chimney?"

He was astounded. Sylvie naked on his lap. A dream come true! And what would she wish for Christmas? He would love her to have said something like a set of sexy underwear or even an electric vibrator, but of course she did not. A rather fine Italian coffee machine did not really have quite the same connotation!

"That's a big present for a little girl. Would you rather a 'Little Miss make-up set' or a colouring book?" They were what were in the neatly wrapped little presents for the children in his big sack beside his chair. No little boy or girl went home with an Italian coffee machine -- and most certainly not an electric vibrator or sexy underwear!

He was still sitting there, head turned away, when she came back out of the shower and towelled herself. That did not mean he had not been looking through the obscured glass and watching the vague shape of her hands upon her naked and pink fuzzy form. Malcolm was more than a little surprised to find Sylvie hopping back onto his lap.

"Sylvie! You... you haven't dressed."

"You noticed!"

How could he not. In the grotto he had been looking down her cleavage. He was seeing more than her cleavage now.

"Sylvie! I don't expect naked elves upon my lap!"

"Oh come, Father Christmas, do I believe that? All those long days and nights up at the North Pole in your cabin. No Mrs Christmas or Mother Christmas to keep you warm in bed. I am sure you pile up the fire, so it is so very hot in your cabin, and you make all your elves work naked and... you enjoy them."

Sylvie's hand came into the red robe, sliding between buttons.

"I thought you didn't wear anything underneath. And... I am right!" and then a gasp, "My, what a big cock you've got." It was a mixing of stories. Red Riding Hood perhaps sitting on 'Grandma' or rather the Big Bad Wolf's knee. It had nothing at all to do with the Father Christmas story. Sylvie glanced at the door and then drew the penis out from between the folds.

"Wow," she said, "wow!"

A man likes to be complimented and a man very much likes to have a young girl's hand around his cock.

"Oh, Malcolm -- Father Christmas -- wouldn't that just please all your little elves!"

It was there standing by her naked pink thigh. Her fingers barely touching it, just enough to move it, slowly pulling the foreskin down as far as it would go, exposing the head. The girl then stroking the smooth membrane of his knob against her skin. It was there in her hand, her fingers curled around it, the head pushing up between them, the flared corona, the tautness, and the dark purple band.

"Now that is what I do want for Christmas, a really big cock."

Malcolm was certainly perspiring now. The suddenness and unexpectedness of the turn of events. His hand moved and rested upon her thigh -- unclad by green corduroy. He found his voice, it started rather higher in pitch than usual, "not a big plastic one then, wrapped in tissue paper?"

"Red and green tissue paper? So that its shape showed through? Yours would look good wrapped. It would be a very cock shaped parcel. Wrapping it in tissue, pieces of Sellotape holding it tight. Gift wrapped! It is a lovely shape -- all very 'cocky.' Look at this big knob." Her voice was husky and had deepened, "very knobby!" She drew up the foreskin and then rolled it back down again. "Just what a girl wants in her stocking." Sylvie looked up at Malcolm, "Or in her knickers!"

Up and down went the foreskin, Malcolm ventured, "Would you like that, Sylvie?"

"Oh yes! But I shouldn't. Really shouldn't. And I'm not sure it would. Well, of course it would... but it might take a time. It's so much bigger than...

Sylvie was very much staring at it. She pulled the skin down and squeezed making the bulb swell.

"A pity the lock doesn't work."

"It does now," he said. "it's been mended." Sylvie did not need to know it had been Malcolm who had mended it.

She looked at the door as if making a decision and then hopped off his lap and turned the key. She turned and stood looking at him with his cock turgid and sticking up out of his robe.

"Mmmm, Father Christmas with a great big cock. Elvin, you see, Malcolm..." There was a pause as if she was considering whether to reveal something. Clearly, she resolved by saying, "he does not have a very big one. It's nice and he knows what to do with it. Only... it's not big."

"Really? I'd have thought..." But, of course, Malcolm knew. Had seen Elvin's penis many, many times through his binoculars doing all sorts of things, even spurting. Had imagined sucking Elvin's very much mouth sized cock. He had seen it in Sylvie's hand, her mouth, her vagina and, yes, her bottom.

"Will, will Elvin mind? I wouldn't want to..." It was generous of Malcolm. Most men would probably have gone with the flow. With a naked girl upon their lap seemingly wanting to fuck, few would have paid much attention to another man's feelings. It was to Malcolm's credit, and it certainly raised his credit with Sylvie. She kissed him, "you are sweet, Malcolm, he doesn't really need to know but I don't think he'd mind. Not really."

She sat there on his lap looking at it, her fingers stroking. "I suppose I shouldn't, not without asking." Sylvie looked straight into his eyes. "Perhaps not today, then." Her eyes widened, "not, having got you all excited, I won't make sure you have that happy feeling but... but... not in there until I've asked. I've got awfully wet. Have you something else you could put up there?"

Malcolm lifted his hand and spread his fingers. He did have rather big hands and chunky fingers. "Would these do?"

Sylvie nodded.

"How many?"

The young lass bit her lip, "I don't know." She was looking again at Malcolm's cock; it reared up before her and was certainly rather thick.

He touched her thigh. The skin so soft, as he had known it would be when he had watched her from his window. Malcolm was not hurrying. He wanted to get it right so there would be other times. Other times of intimacy with his pretty little elf. His fingers did not race for the dark triangle of hair, but they got there in the end. Stroking the soft springiness before a single digit delved into the moss and found her womanly divide -- the little start to a valley which led to a pool of wetness and a cave of pleasure. A slow stroking down the valley and then back again until Sylvie's legs opened wider -- as women's legs will open to the man who plays the right tune.

"Oh!"

Malcolm had not bypassed Sylvie's little man. He had stroked its hood before moving to stroke its smooth hardness. Lovely to see her reaction -- her mouth opening and closing as he gently rubbed his finger over it, back and forth until he slid his finger forward and into her in one fluid movement. No resistance. Sylvie was nice and wet.

A second finger and Malcolm smiled at Sylvie, a smile almost hidden by his moustache and beard. She was not to know but it had been years since Malcolm had had his finger (or anything else) inside a woman. His actions reminiscent of riding a bicycle -- it was not something you forget how to do! Whether fucking with prick or fingers, the in out action is not too difficult to master. Malcolm's thumb found Sylvie's little man again.

He brought his fingers out and up to his face and pushed them into his mouth tasting Sylvie. Two of his fingers, little different to the thickness of Elvin's prick. Sylvie was not to know, but that was exactly what was in Malcolm's mind -- the thought of sucking on Elvin's cock freshly extracted from Sylvie. Rather better than his own fingers - a boy's cock all wet from his girl.

The next time his fingers came out it was for Sylvie's mouth not his. Malcolm was beginning to get things into Sylvie. When his hand went back between her thighs it was three fingers. Three thick fingers opening her. Her hand came down, not to stop him, but to bring the oscillation of his pushing fingers to the speed she wanted. A fourth finger joined the three, only it was not one of Malcolm's. There was eroticism in that, not perhaps the extreme eroticism of joining Elvin inside Sylvie -- a probably impossible project but an idea that very much pleased Malcolm. Two penises in the one vagina, moving as one. Hardness against hardness whilst otherwise around them, clasping so tightly, soft, squishy wetness. Double barrelled indeed -- able to be discharged separately or in unison -- two urethral openings oozing and ready to fire.