Milk and Cookies

"Dear Santa,

I know you don't usually get letters from adults, but I've run out of options. As you know, my community is small, and all I've wanted was a fun romp. I've been as good as possible this year, hoping my wish might come true.

A whole year of goodness hasn't left much room for naughtiness. Please send me someone who might enjoy a fun night if you can.

Yours Truly,

Freya"

I put down my pen and shook my head. Around the arousal wetting my pussy, I felt embarrassment for myself, compounding the growing heat in my cheeks. Was I really this desperate?

I shook my head, clenched my fist, balled up the letter, and tossed it in the trash bin. It bounced off the rim and flopped onto the stack of firewood.

Just like my whole fucking year.

All I wanted was a few nights of passion, someone touching me, someone I could consume with my own desires. I wanted one magical night of pleasure. Was it too much to ask?

Of course, I could always find women willing to spend a night together. But everyone I talked to had less than two degrees of separation from my ex.

I wasn't going to drive 100 miles for a good fuck, either. My job as a firefighter was demanding, leaving minimal downtime. I protected my time off viciously.

But this year, I'd been the truckie on a four-story stretch and rescued eight foster teens. Surely that might bring me some good luck. Besides, I was the best stick operator in the city, and I loved heights. If anyone could understand me, it would be Santa.

And this year, I had Christmas off.

With a sigh, I removed my canvas cargo pants and tight t-shirt. I slipped into my favorite green silk robe. I shivered at the caress of the fabric. Ahh, I was home.

I wandered into the kitchen and some apple cider. Sipping from my warm mug, I paused before leaving the kitchen. With a shrug, I put out some milk and cookies-- an offering to the holiday spirit.

My feet grew chilly on the wood floors, and I scurried back to the living room. I had a roaring fire in the fireplace, warming me in less than two minutes. I smirked at my skills, I had a reputation for being a bit of a firebug.

That's why I was so surprised when rubbing my hands with the heat of the fire, I fell back on my ass as a cloud of green and red sparks burst up and out the chimney.

That was odd.

Less than an hour later, I was curled up in my reading chair with a book flopped on my chest eyes drooping closed. The warm pull of sleep weighed down my limbs when the faint ring of jingle bells woke me.

I fumbled for my phone and squinted at the glow. It was midnight. Sharp notes of cinnamon tickled my nose, drawing my attention to the right.

There before me was a figure. I made a strangled noise while crab-crawling up the back of my lounger. Adrenaline coursed through me, and my phone leaped from my hands and landed with a crack on the floor.

"Hello, Freya. I've heard you've been a good girl this year." Came a sweet voice.

I rubbed my eyes with fisted hands and blinked rapidly. She knew my name. Did I know this intruder? I squinted, looking closely at them.

She was a plus-sized bombshell of a woman in a sequined mini Santa dress. Around her waist was a tiny black belt that enhanced her serpentine silhouette. My fingers itched to follow the lines.

Her fantasy white hair cascaded down her shoulders, caressing the peaks of her breasts. I looked down and was thrilled at the sight of black Doc Martens.

My eyes darted to her hands—short nails covered in glittery red, blunt, sexy fingers. I couldn't stop the warm waves between my legs and the twitch of my clit.

She had an agelessness about her. Perhaps she was in her thirties, I wasn't sure. She smiled at me, and her glittering eyes were disarming. My heart leaped at the adorable and incredibly sexy woman before me.

"Who are you?" Her laugh tinkled, and she shook her head with a smile.

"I received your letter." I laughed at her absurd assertion.

"Yeah, sure you did."

"Didn't you get the glitter receipt?" I remembered the flash of colored sparks from the fire. Had I burned the letter with the logs?

"Okay then-- Where's Santa?" Sarcasm dripped from me.

"Silly. I'm Santa." Her fists pressed into the tops of her hips.

"But-- you're a woman," I accused as if her sex were more pressing than a hot lunatic in the middle of a B&E.

"Honestly, think about it. Who plans the Holidays? Who has top-notch organizational skills, the empathy for gifts, and the creativity to make a day special?" Of course, Santa would be a woman. It made total sense.

"Okay, then Santa. Why are you here? Don't you have gifts to deliver?" She winked, revealing a dimple on her cheek.

"I know how to outsource." I blinked at her. She was a riot. Her voice softened.

"You went back for that girl's journal. It was a dumb move but admirable. I know you remember what it was like moving from family to family with nothing but a few trash bags, alone in the world."

My lips parted. No one knew about my orphaned past. I'd moved across the country and cut all ties for that reason. And--no one was there when the teen girl pleaded for her journal. The journal I went back into the fire for, alone.

"How. How did you—"

"I have my ways." Silence fell as my mind spun. She took one step closer to me.

"Do you want to spend the night talking? Or would you like your present this year?"

My face grew hot remembering my letter. I looked around. Had she brought along a guest? She laughed and moved closer still. She leaned down. Warm breath tickled my ear as she whispered.

"I'm your present, Freya." My mouth parted in sheer arousal, and my pussy thrummed.

Tingles ran down my arms, and my pulse quickened. Her fingers trailed the edges of my cropped umber hair and cupped the back of my head. Her lush red lips lowered to mine, and the first kiss was whisper-soft. She leaned back with a quirk of her mouth.

"You taste like apples."

A nervous sound escaped me, and before I could pull back, she grasped my shoulders, pressing me into my plush chair and straddling my hips.

Her chest hitched, and this time, the kiss wasn't so "nice." Electricity shot between us, and all amusement was replaced by passion.

My fingers caressed the soft mounds of breast peeking out of the dress. She wiggled and ground her pelvis into my lap. A sweet musk rose from between her legs.

I reached into her dress and gently pulled out the pillow-like globes. I sucked her pink areola into my mouth. Her nipple hardened against my tongue, and my mouth watered.

"Mmmm."

Her noise of enjoyment sent a wave of pleasure between my thighs. She lifted herself as her hand drifted down, spreading my robe. Her fingers tickled the fuzz above my clit and found the bud.

I suppressed a hysterical giggle, but my mind melted when her shoulder shifted, her hand dipped lower, and her blunt fingers easily slid inside.

Unable to help myself, I pushed her back and tugged her to the floor. She lay back on the rug before the fire and spread her milky thighs. Her bush was the same white as her hair and trimmed like a tree. I moaned. Perfect.

Like Rudolph lined up for a landing, my head dipped low, and my lips were soon pressed to her warm core. Between her legs, she smelled like earthy chocolate. The taste on my tongue was cardamom and nutmeg with a hint of vanilla.

She was a delicious snack, a sweet and savory delight. My tongue explored all of her folds. I suckled her petaled lips and flicked her perky clit like it were a piece of candy. Her soft thighs held my head between them.

I felt surrounded by the holiday, and my hips jerked back and forth in time with my tongue exploring her depths. My fingers slid inside of her, twisted upward, coaxing more sounds of rapture from her. Her whole body was a wave of sensations, and the wetness from her dripped down my chin.

Her body stilled as if teetering on the peak of a mountain. She cried out in climax, and her vagina clenched my fingers in its own rhythm.

Patterns of tingling delight scattered around my insides. I felt my own pulsing response. Pulling my fingers back out, I smiled at the pruned tips and licked them clean.

After catching her breath, Santa perched herself on her elbows and stared at me. Her dress was a band around her waist, and my eyes consumed the yards of milky white skin. Her chest and cheeks were flushed sweetly.

"I have another present for you," she said as she reached behind her and grasped a mini velvet bag. From it, she pulled a rather large-looking candy cane. The gift was disproportionately large compared to the tiny bag. My eyes widened at witnessing magic.

I squinted at the gift, trying to determine what it was exactly. It was curved oddly with a bulb on the short end. She plucked the red bow from the top and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Here, I'll show you."

Santa rose to her knees and slid the bulbed end into her slick opening. What was left of the toy was a mailable red and white striped protrusion. She reached between her legs and flicked a switch. A muffled buzzing emanated from it, and I moaned.

Eagerly, I laid myself back and spread my legs, mirroring her pose from moments ago. Santa crawled to me and nestled between my thighs. She pulled from her mini bag a forest green pillow scented orange. She slid it under my hips and adjusted me to her liking.

The tip of her silky cock was warm as it pressed at my opening, and the sensation was glorious. I jerked towards her, desperate. My legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards my core. She slid herself inside me, and she began to move in earnest. Her hips pumped away, and we moved as one. Our eyes locked on each other, and I watched her watch me.

Sooner than I'd expected, my eyes drifted back in my head, and wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through me. My brain shut off, and lights flashed behind my eyes. I made sounds I'd never heard before.

The pulsing abated slowly, leaving me a drunken, wet pile on the floor. I panted sharply, trying to catch my breath. Santa shifted, so she lay beside me. Her elbow propped on the floor, her head in her hand, watching me.

"I didn't expect a gift in return," she laughed.

Her flushed cheeks and swollen lips fascinated me. I didn't want this night to end. With an impish smile, she shifted towards me.

"I'm not ready for this night to be over," she said. A thrill ran through me. We were on the same page. Her finger made circles on my abdomen.

"What do you think about seeing the North Pole?" I wondered if that was an innuendo of some kind. But her expression told me she was serious. I nodded, and she pressed her finger to the side of her nose.

Lights glittered around us, and my living room faded.