The Week After Christmas
‘Twas the week after Christmas, and Lilly swore she could hear sleigh bells on her roof. She found this a little odd, as it had been almost a decade since she’d been visited by Santa Claus. And who ever heard of him appearing any time other than Christmas?
But no, here he was, magically swooshing into her living room, with her clad just in her festive lingerie! “Santa!” she cried out, half delighted, half utterly embarrassed.
The jolly old elf let out a great bellowing laugh at her predicament. “Merry Christmas, Lilly! You always were one of my favorites.” Was there a twinkle in his eye as he said that?
“To what do I owe the honor, Father Christmas? I have no children of my own yet to celebrate the season…”
“Oh Lilly, were you never told? Ol’ Saint Nick visits the very best girls all around the world the entire week after Christmas, once they’re old enough, that is.”
“Old enough?” Lilly pursed her full lips in thought, shimmying enticingly before the girthy gift-giver. “Old enough for what?”
Letting out a soft chuckle, Santa reached up and loosened his enormous red coat and let it fall to the floor. Lilly’s eyes widened even further – Santa wasn’t old and fat, as she had always remembered: he was ripped! Burgeoning pecs sat atop a wide washboard stomach, his entire barrel torso supported by a pair of tree-trunks for legs…
…and that wasn’t even mentioning the obvious yule log jammed into his underwear.
“Ho ho ho,” he said, watching Lilly’s gaze fall upon his prodigious prick. “You’ve been very, very good this year, and I thought you deserved a reward.”
“Oh Santa… are you calling me a ho?” Lilly licked her lips as his underwear started to pitch a tent of their own. “Because I think I’m a bad, bad girl who’s thinking bad, bad thoughts…”
In an instant, they were on each other, rutting with abandon on the rug in front of Lilly’s Christmas tree. Every time Santa came, Lilly could feel some Christmas magic seeping into her body – or perhaps that was just numbness from the onslaught of orgasms that were ravaging her blonde body.
Finally, after a few hours of non-stop fucking, Santa gently lifted Lilly’s exhausted body off of his and laid her on her couch. She was glazed like a holiday ham in sweat and cum. It was more than a metaphor, Lilly decided as she took a quick accounting of herself. Her boobs felt enormous, swollen at least two cup sizes, and her hips were wider to boot, while her waist had cinched inward at least an inch. Her hair seemed fuller and brighter, and even her skin seemed smoother as she ran her tingling fingers over it.
“There are certain other… benefits to being a good girl,” Santa was saying. “You’re discovering some of them now.”
“Mmm, Santa, if being good is all it takes to feel like that again, I’m going to be an angel this year.”
“I hope so,” the wise old elf said, pulling on his big red coat. “And if you’re really, really good, you might even get to meet Mrs. Claus one day.” Lilly jerked up from the couch, opened-mouthed, as Santa smiled mischievously.
And with that, he tapped the side of his nose and vanished up the chimney again. Lilly rushed to the window in time to hear him shout from the back of his sled: “Merry fuckmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
I know I’m going to hell for this one.