Randy Santa

My husband and I have this silly little Christmas tradition, which we've observed every year since we married. Each Christmas Eve, Steve goes out for a drink with his mates while I get the girls round for a few cocktails. Then, around midnight, he comes home, dresses up in a ratty old Santa Claus outfit, creeps into the bedroom and, erm, gives me my first present of the season, so to speak. Like I say, I know it's silly, but it amuses us.

Last Christmas was our fourth together, and as usual off Steve went, once my sister Shirley and a few of our pals arrived. They only stay for about three hours, but it's surprising just how much alcohol you can put away in that time if you work hard at it. By ten p.m. my mascara was running down my face with tears of laughter, my sides were aching, and I was feeling pretty woozy. I was glad to get to bed to sleep it off a bit, planning to get a couple of hours before 'Santa' arrived to ravish me. I pulled on my sheer baby doll nightie, brushed my long blonde hair, and slipped between the sheets, nodding off almost immediately.

I was woken by a noise. At first I couldn't make out anything in the bedroom, but as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw the familiar flash of red velvet and white fur in the moonlight. I glanced at the clock, and saw it was 11.15. I sat up and, still a bit bleary, muttered, "You're back early Stevie." The figure had his back to me and froze. He turned slowly and stared at me. Realising what I'd done wrong, I started to get into character, thrusting out my considerable chest and putting on the Marilyn Monroe little girl voice which so turns my husband on. "Sorry, I mean Santa. Oh I'm so scared, all alone and unprotected on Christmas Eve, with a big horny man in my bedroom with me. Have you got any nice presents for me Santa? A big, hot, juicy sausage, perhaps?"

'Santa' continued to stare at me for a moment, then moved towards me, slowly, almost warily it seemed. Steve was really acting the part I thought. As I saw him more clearly, I realised his suit looked a lot better than last year too: the white beard was fuller, the tunic a much brighter red, and a much better quality material than the usual rather dingy outfit. I hadn't realised Steve had splashed out on a new costume, the sly dog! He even had a quite realistic looking present sack, bulging with what I assumed were clothes or something. Between the beard and his hat, pulled low on his head, I could hardly see his face. He stood inches from me, and I reached out and stroked the palm of my hand firmly down the front of his red trousers, giggling as I heard his sharp intake of breath. "Oh Santa, that's not just a sausage, that's a saveloy! I'm a greedy girl, I don't want to wait until Christmas morning for it. I want it now, with lovely sticky mustard all over it."

He stared down at my hands as I unbelted his tunic, pulled the drawstring on his trousers, and tugged them down around his knees. Then I wrapped a hand around his thigh and pulled him into a kneeling position on the bed. "I think you'd better take off those nice new shiny boots of yours Santa -- I don't want these sheets ripped." In seconds he had them off, then he fell on me, his hands clutching my head as I felt cotton wool press to my lips and his tongue thrust deep into my mouth. I could taste whisky on it; perhaps that explains his odd behaviour, I thought; he's normally a beer man, he hardly ever touches spirits.

Still kissing me hard, 'Santa' wrapped his hands around my tits and squeezed. Still in Marilyn mode, I murmured, "Oh Santa, if you'll give me your nice huge saveloy, I'll let you taste my big round dumplings." His reaction was instantaneous. I shrieked with laughter as he grabbed the neck of my flimsy negligee and ripped it apart, then feasted on my boobs. The beard tickled, but what he was doing to me felt wonderful as he licked and nibbled at my stiff nipples, slurping his way from one boob to the other then back again. I started to gurgle with sheer joy. I felt him fumbling with his underpants, then a moment later he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around his burning hot dick. I gasped, "Oh Santa, you're in a hurry tonight -- Christ Steve, you feel even bigger than normal."

In fact, he felt fucking enormous. I knew Shirley had been mixing the tequila sunrises a bit strong, but I must have really knocked it back, I thought. I could hardly wait to get that inside me tonight. 'Santa' had other ideas though. His mouth left my boobs and he licked his way down my belly. Then, grabbing my thighs in his big hands, he wrenched them wide apart and a moment later I felt as if I was melting with pleasure as his tongue licked the length of my slit then burrowed inside. He pushed his face into me, using his tongue, his teeth, even his nose to stroke and screw me.

Steve very rarely licked me down there, and he'd certainly never done it that well, or that enthusiastically before! If I hadn't been so overcome with desire I might have wondered if he'd maybe found a new practice partner to perfect his technique on. As it was, I squirmed down onto his face as hard as I could, keening like a wild animal as he licked and sucked at me. I came within seconds, and I had at least two more orgasms as he added a hand to the mix, rubbing my clit with his thumb as he fucked me with two fingers, rimming my pussy lips with his tongue, his beard tickling my inner thighs. Finally I could take it no more, "Oh my Gooood Ste...Santa, that's enough, I really need your big sausage inside me, right now."

With one final muscle-clenching slurp up my cunt he rose above me on his knees. I felt him shuffle towards me, still wordless, then I felt a glorious burning pressure as his red hot dick slammed into me. He started pumping me with long, hard strokes that drove me wild with lust. I screamed with delight as he locked one hand on one of my bum cheeks, the other on a boob, and squeezed them rhythmically as he fucked me. I heard myself babbling at him. "Oh Jeeeesssuuuss honey, you're so fucking big tonight. Oh shit yes, fuck me, fuck me, oh so good, so strong baby."

The pom-pom on his Santa hat tickled my nose as he bore down on me, but I barely noticed as he seemed to stretch my pussy like never before. It was so amazingly wonderful that I kicked my legs into the air, my toes pointing straight at the ceiling, as my lover humped me to oblivion. I came yet again, but he just kept going, that huge cock ripping into me, his balls slapping against me with each stroke. Finally, just as I felt I was going to die from a mixture of exhaustion and ecstasy, he gave one last, titanic thrust and exploded into me. I wrapped my arms and legs tight around him, savouring every last tremor of his hips until his sweet cock finally stopped moving inside me.

I eased back into the bed, feeling more fucked than I'd ever known. With tears of love in my eyes, I whispered, "Oh God, Stevie, that was so good, you've never been that good before, not ever. Ooohh, that was so wonderful." Then I returned to my Marilyn impression. "Now Santa, why don't you creep downstairs, make me a nice cup of cocoa, then you can give me another present. A big mouth organ would be nice." I sniggered at my joke. It's odd, but I enjoy a cocoa after a nice fuck, and anyway I needed a few minutes to get my breath back. If there was any more sex of that quality going, I was desperate for it. 'Santa' gave me another long kiss, his tongue snaking round my mouth, and squeezed my boob, making me gasp as he tickled his fingers and thumb up my nipple, then he rose from the bed.

I must have nodded off again. Next time I looked at the clock, fifteen minutes had passed since I asked for my coca, and there was still no sign of it. Mildly irritated, and impatient for more lovely nookie, I struggled into a sitting position and switched on the bedside light. I was mildly surprised to see that 'Santa' had bothered to take his boots and sack out of the room with him. Then my eye caught the top of my dressing table. I couldn't see my mother-of-pearl jewellery box. That was odd, I thought; I always left it there. And the sterling silver picture frame, with our wedding photo, seemed to be missing too.

At that moment the 'phone rang. Half-expecting it to be my mother, wishing me Happy Christmas, I snatched it up. I was stunned to hear Steve's voice. "Susie darling, I'm sorry, I'm gonna be held up." He was clearly very drunk. I held the 'phone away from my ear and stared at it, as if I was expecting to see him at the other end.

Bewildered, I stammered, "Steve, what the hell are you playing at? Where's my cocoa?"

Steve slurred, "I'm sorry honey, I'll get you a cocoa when I get home. I'm at Jonno's flat, having a nightcap. I've ordered a taxi, I'll be home in about 40 minutes. I'm sorry love...Susie? Why have you gone quiet? Susie, are you still there?"