54 comments/ 63109 views/ 14 favorites Twas The Night Before... By: Colleen Thomas December 24th and the fatman was having a fit. It wasn't like we've been slacking all year. Well, Okay, so there's been more fucking around than a bad soap opera, but what does he expect? I mean, snow and cold twenty-four seven, and the nearest town a continent away. Not that it really matters, us elves wouldn't be welcome most places anyway. See, that's where he makes out like a bandit. The only employer of elves on Earth. The guys bitch and moan, but us girls? As well as playing jolly and making toys we gotta put out for ol' lardass if we want to keep our jobs. Ever try blowing a bowl full of jelly? No wonder most of us are lesbians. Now that Missus Claus, I'd love to get between her thighs. All those nice old ladies you see on television? Forget that shit. The boss has taste, I'll give him that. She's a dish, six foot four inches of pure sex appeal. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tits like soccer balls and legs up to her ass. Speaking of her ass, what an ass. Oh, I'm Zelda by the way. Yeah, cute fucking name. And I wasn't named after the princess in the video game, she was named after me. Comprende? Good. I know I sound bitter, but it really isn't that bad. We all get a little edgey as the holidays approach. Things get a little tense and my girl has been so busy painting faces on dolls she hasn't had time to fuck me. So I'm a little bitchy, can you blame me? I'm in the clothes division. Not the shit kids get, the stuff that goes on Barbie and Baby Wets Herself. Luckily the demand for dollies is down this year, so we got all the outfits we need. Of course that just means we end up doing something else; the old man will get his pound of flesh out of us - one way or another. Since I have the best figure, of course I ended up in the big house doing the maid's job. And where is she you might you ask? Well, lets just say she got her Christmas bone-us a little early and she's in a family way now. Nobody wants to work the big house, not since Chuckles discovered Viagra. Nice thing about this time of year though is the ole man has performance anxiety and with all the added stress, you rarely see him. 'Course, that goes for the Missus too; I wonder how she puts up with it sometimes, but I guess eternal youth is worth it. Then again, ole lardass is so fat, I don't see how he gets his pickle into the jar, if you know what I mean. Ugh, geeze, a "thanks for the visual" moment. Anyways, I hear him going down the stairs now, the 'flying shit factories' are hooked to the sleigh and everyone is outside waiting to send him off. And where am I? Hiding under the bed in the master bedroom, of course. Everyone knows right before he leaves he hits up on that magic dust. Keeps him up all night and moving like a cheetah on speed. Of course he also gets hot and lord help the poor girl he catches. My friend Della got it last year, said it was like being fucked by a Black & Decker power drill. Not this little elf. No way. So here I am hiding out, when I hear the front door slam. I guess I can start breathing again. Just as I start, in walks the Missus. She looks pissed and I'm guessing the old man must have wanted some elf booty. I mean really, anyone who could walk off and leave her when she's dressed like that is definitely not right in the head. Hell, she's getting me hot. She has on this green satin corset, with black lace trim that pushes her bare breasts up, red stockings, and little red curly booties with bells on the tips. And these indecently brief panties in black, with a green and red sprig of mistletoe embroidered on them right above heaven. "You can come out now," she said. I was startled, no doubt. I thought I was pretty well hidden. Obviously she knew I was there, so I crawled out. "How'd you know I was there?" I asked, looking up at her. "I didn't, just guessed you would be hiding," she replied with a pretty smile. Okay, I think she was smiling, I don't really know, I was staring at her tits. So sue me. I mean, from my angle, I couldn't have seen her lips if she had been Mick Jagger. "Ironic isn't it? You're up here trying to avoid a fucking and I was doing all I could to get one," she said in a sad voice as she turned and walked over to her vanity. She was staring at herself in the mirror, and I probably should have just split, but her ass was bare and that big, soft expanse of silken flesh was too much to ignore. She turned suddenly and stared at me. I could feel myself blushing. Luckily, on us elves it's hard to tell. "So, were you avoiding a fucking or just avoiding my husband?" "The fat man," I replied, now staring at her tits. "You're kinda cute. And I'm fucking climbing-the-walls horny." "And?" I managed. This was unreal. I mean, this was like a fantasy come to life. Was she really about to ask me to her bed? No way, I'm not even close to that kind of lucky. Am I? "And…How do you feel about Christmas customs?" she said with smile. I know she was smiling this time because she bent down. Granted, her tits had the lion's share of my attention, but hey I did reply to her face. "Depends on the custom." She stood back up and spread those impossibly long legs. Her hands slid down her corset until her long fingers rested on the edge of her panties. "How 'bout kissing me under the mistletoe?" Holy Shit! Of course, that invitation is a bit like putting a bitch German Shepherd in heat in the same back yard with a male Chihuahua. He ain't getting any without a step ladder and even in these ridiculous heels I couldn't reach that little triangle of silk with my hands, much less my lips. The missus just smiled and glanced meaningfully at the bed. When I could tear my eyes away from her, I saw she was looking at the bed steps. Oh hell yes, heaven, here comes Zelda! I went and got them; leave it to lardass to have cheap elf furniture everywhere in the house, but bedsteps made by Baron von Heavyassshit, that famous concrete sculptor. I was still trying to lift the damned things when the Missus took pity on me and came over. She positioned herself right in front and up I went. And down I went. Busting my ass in the process. Did I mention the outfit the maids wear? Five inch stilettos. I mean really, five inch heels on an elf? Don't even try to tell me the old bastard is sweet and kind. Fucking sadist. With her pussy waiting for my attention, I didn't even let if phase me and scrambled right back up. This time I wrapped my arms around those big, silky thighs and hung on while I teetered on the top step. I pressed the tip of my nose right up against the embroidery and started to lick her through her panties. In no time, the crotch of those tiny silk panties was wet and slick. I could taste her pussy through them. Talk about sweet. The missus, she just sighed and then stepped a little forward, straddling the steps and me. I felt her hands on my shoulders, holding me up and I knew that meant my hands were free. You better believe I pulled those panties out of my way and got a drink straight from the source. Her soft, golden pubes were trimmed in the shape of a little Christmas tree. Cute. All right, so it's demeaning and objectifies her and…so fucking what? Now is not the time for a dissertation on elf feminism. Now's the time for serious pussy eating and you better believe I dug in. Now, she's not the first human I've been with. All of us put out when Santa is running his "Visit the North Pole" racket. And those of us who are the best at it get the call when Government regulatory agencies show up. You don't think super Santa crosses all those restricted airspaces for free do you? I mean, he's going ninety to nothing on the magic dust, but he still can't out run a surface-to-air missile. And then there all the special "representatives" you have to placate. I mean, you come bounding down a chimney in Northern Ireland or east L.A. and some one is likely to pop a cap in your ass. And since Chuckles doesn't make any money, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, he pays the piper by having us put out. Ignore that account behind the curtain in Costa Rica. How bout an elf blow job? Either that or he delivers some special cargo, for a cut of course. Last year after he finished up in Jamaica the whole operation ground to a halt until the weed was all smoked. You should have seen some of the dollies, I'm talking noses on their asses and arms coming out from everywhere. It looked like we were sub-contracting in Chernobyl or something. So back to the Missus. You see, the problem here is, she has a big pussy. No slight on her of course, when you're an elf, everyone has a big pussy. She's also getting excited, which is good, but she's standing right over me. Now I have a talented tongue, but it isn't very large and there's a lot here that needs attention. So I figure the best idea is to concentrate where I know it will feel good. This is all working out just dandy, until I feather her clit and her hips buck. Did you know elves can fly? Neither did I. But that's where I find myself. Flying backwards through the air like supergirl. Of course, I'm also going down like the human cannonball, without a net. End result is, I'm flat on my back, seeing stars while the Missus is caught between embarrassment and concern. I try to move and my back cracks like the walnuts that prima donna nutcracker is always after. I try to sit up and there's this big popping sound. I bet my chiropractor heard the Cha-ching! from her place. Now I know when you're messing with someone else's wife you're running some risks. I mean, jealous husbands are dangerous, but I get the feeling the Missus hasn't been getting any for a while and if she's going to gyrate like that, you're talking dangerous sex even without fatboy coming home early. I'm considering my health benefits and maybe calling it an evening, when she rushes over and picks me up. So now she's holding me tight and my head is - you guessed it - right between those beautiful tits. I suppose if the time has come to shake off the mortal coil, tits like that are as good a reason as any. Hell, better than O-D'ing on cigarettes and coffee. "I'm so sorry," she says. Does she actually expect a response here? I'm surrounded by boobs - I got better things to be doing with my mouth! Apparently she does. No telling with women. Especially humans. My girl would be laughing her ass off at me if she could see me now. "It's all right." I guess she wants more. She's staring at me with those big blue eyes. "Really, I'm fine." She smiles then. All that wishy-washy romantic stuff about a room lighting up when someone smiles. Believe it. Her face is so angelically sweet I feel a little guilty because for me, right now, it's all about the boobs. Glad she's as hot as I am or this might have turned into one of those smarmy Kodak moments. Instead she just climbs on the bed and lies down, with me still riding shotgun on her tits. And she just lies back and watches me. Have you ever dreamed about something, I mean, really dreamed about it. Run it through your head a million times? Till, it's down to just exactly what would be perfect? Till you know every word, every gesture, till you can see it if you just close your eyes? Don't ever believe that shit. I'm sitting here with a dream come true and can't decide what to do. I mean, I've got a choice of lips, tits, legs or pussy. Kinda like letting the fat kid loose at Micky D's with grandpa paying the tab. You know, where the old guy is smiling evilly, cause he knows he doesn't have to deal with stomach aches or farts that would be considered chemical warfare agents and the kid's eyes are the size of dinner plates staring at the menu. That's me, the fat kid. And she's staring at me with the smile of a woman who expects to experience the best sex of her life. Talk about pressure. Maybe I should give fat bastard a little sympathy. It is pretty daunting. Luckily, I don't have to worry about my noodle giving me away. Well, enough of this happy horseshit. When the going gets tough, the tough get going or something like that. Anyway, I know how to make a woman feel good and I can still taste her on my lips. Hopefully with her prone I won't need a seatbelt when her hips start working again. Now, I've said she has a big pussy, but goddamn it's beautiful. In the first place I love natural blondes, even if it is shaved into cutsey patterns. Her mound is fat, fleshy, the kind that leaves a camel toe in tight pants that you can see for miles. Soft, delicate pink lips, gaping open slightly to reveal an even more sublime shade of pink inside. I started out just licking along her lips, really gentle and with very little pressure. Slow, languid trips up one side and down the other. The trick is to be totally focused on your lover here, if you're paying attention she'll let you know exactly what she wants, even if she never says a word. After a few minutes of this, her lips were open and the muscles in her thighs were quivering. It was almost imperceptible, but I could feel her hips pushing up and that let me know she wanted greater contact. So I gave it to her, using more of the flat of my tongue, stopping to occasionally nibble on her outer lips. When I finally applied my tongue to her inner pussy she let out this sexy little moan. One nice thing about being small is everything is bigger. No way I can miss her clit, which has just made an appearance. Remembering my last attempt to play with that little hot button, I stay away from it. I lick around it, getting closer and closer, but backing off when I can feel her straining to hold her hips in check. Gotta get myself into a better position here, before I go after it. Once I've snuggled down into the comforter and made sure I'm well between her thighs I suck that little bitch into my mouth and tongue it as I keep up a gentle suction. She's close now, I can fell her body thrumming, hear the soft little whimpers and I'm really hot to make the boss's wife cum. So I really bear down on her with my tongue. I'm ready for the bucking hips. Got a death grip on the bed under her ass and I'm hunkered down so I don't get caught up on her legs. Got it all figured out haven't you Zelda? Ever wonder how a grape feels? In that split second before the pressure from the press is too much and it gets splattered? Well, I don't need to wonder. I know. The Missus let out a little moan and then… her thighs snapped together like a bear trap. My eyes had to be bulging out of my head and I was trying to shout. Of course I had her clit in my mouth and I couldn't move, so all that did was add to the stimulation. So there she is, having one of those year-long orgasms you see in the movies and the whole time I'm wondering if my brains are coming out of my nose yet. When she finally relaxes, I'm seeing Aztec temples and shit. The next few moments are kinda blurry to me. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I guess she reached into her night-stand and pulled out her vibe. When I do manage to get my shit together, she's watching me and I have this big, honker vibe in my hands. At this point, I'm thinking servicing the Missus should net me hazardous duty pay. But she's got that sexy smile on her face and the next thing I know I'm working that big vibe into her. I'm dumb like that. Once it's in, she's moaning and happy and like an idiot I can't leave well enough alone. Nooooo, I've gotta get the bright idea and turn the damned thing on. So now she's really moaning and gurgling happily and cumming again. And me? I've got the shakes worse than a drug addict in her second week of detox. It's like operating a jack hammer. My teeth are chattering like I'm trying to make snow angels in the nude outside and I'm trying not to bite my tongue. And I can't let go! Her legs have clamped shut again and I'm basically along for the ride. And what a ride. If I ever met up with the energizer bunny, I'm kicking his furry little butt. By the time I manage to turn the damned thing off, she's coming down off a beautiful orgasm and I'm worried about the deductable on my dental plan. So while she basks in the after glow, I'm trying to figure out how to get off this bed and out of harm's way. I'm guessing the way my luck's going if I jump for it, I'll break a leg. But if I stay here, god knows what might happen to me. "Come here, I want to pay you back," she says. "Uhhh,, thanks but I really need to be going. Wouldn't want the fatman to catch us." Okay, so he's going to be out all night. It's really lame, I know, but fuck, her voice is so sexy I wasn't thinking straight. "He'll be gone all night," she says, while grabbing me and lying me back on the bed. Despite the mishaps, I'm really hot, and hell, she's a dream come true. I figure there's no way I can get hurt having my pussy eaten, so I help her get my panties off. She's kinda slow at first, really unsure, but that's fine. I can deal with slow, specially since my back is out and my butt is hurting. Things were just starting to get good when the front door slammed. She looked at me and I looked at her and we both had the same thought. Busted. There ain't many places to hide, but she throws a couple of pillows on me and lies back just as Chuckles waltzes in. Just my luck, he can't stay out like every other night in the past ten years. Oh no, he has to come home for a quickie. And I'm stuck under the pillows. He just jumps on the bed and goes to town. So I get a front row seat for that shit. Somewhere during that, I saw the damned vibrator rolling around on the bed. I reached out to grab it just as he rolled her over. Any idea how much that sweating, grunting pile of humanity weighed? Me either, but I felt my bones crack. By the time he finishes and waltzes out, the Missus is dead to the world with a shit- eating grin on her face. No help there, so I eventually decided to jump. Turned both my ankles when I landed, but it was worth it to get out of there. Of course my girl wanted to fuck, it being Christmas and all. I couldn't exactly tell her why I was in such a bad mood. Not like she cared. Seems like the fat man left the top off the magic dust and all the girls were hitting up. Della was right, Black & Decker power drill. Pussy, mouth, ass, tits, I think she would have fucked my ears if I hadn't of passed out. Next year, I'm hiding her strap-on before that fat Don Juan and his drugs get me killed. So the score is this, Twelve orgasms for the missus, Eleven for the girlfriend, Ten stitches in my backside, Nine Aspirin for my head, Eight hours in the hospital Seven at the chiropractor, Six chipped teeth, Five cracked ribs, Four broken fingers, Three slipped discs, Two sprained ankles And one pissed off little elf. Merry fucking Christmas. Twas The Night Before... With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore. * "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring..." ...except for me and I was getting more and more pissed as I went from room to room looking for what should have been there. There should have been a wife and three children in the house, but they weren't. I had been away from home working on a project that was in trouble. We had a hard target deadline and a contract that called for sanctions if the job wasn't finished on time. We were behind and I had been informed by corporate that going home for the holidays was not an option. I was going to miss Christmas with my family and I had not been happy about it. My wife had been very understanding and said that we would have our family Christmas celebration when I got home on the 5th of January. The kids of course would be able to open some presents on Christmas Day, but the major gift giving would take place when I got home. I was resigned to eating my Christmas dinner at the Village Inn and spending a day in front of the TV watching one Christmas special after another when I got a phone call from my boss. The truck carrying the material we needed for the next four days work had slid off I-80 and had overturned. It would be three days before they could get another truck, transfer the load and get it to the job site so I could go home if I wanted as long as I made sure that I was back in three days. I had gotten on the phone and started calling airlines to see if I could get a seat this close to the holiday. I got a "sorry" from all but one. They told me that they were booked solid, but had been experiencing a rash of cancellations and no-shows and that if I wanted to come out to the airport and get on the 'stand by list' I might be able to get on a flight. It was my lucky day - my Christmas present from the 'fates' - and I was able to get on a flight. I had driven my car to the job site and since I wanted to surprise Shelly and the kids I didn't call for a ride and instead took a cab home. "The stockings were hung..." and the tree was set up in the corner of the family room and the kids had done a nice job of decorating it. There were presents under the tree and arranged around it and in my mind I could see the excitement on their faces as they looked at all the wrapped packages and tried to imagine what was inside. "The children were nestled all snug in their beds..." is what I found out when I called my parents house and talked to my mom to see if she knew where Shelly and the kids might be. Shelly had called her and asked if she could watch the kids for a while since I wasn't home she wanted to go out for dinner and drinks with some girls she went to college with. Since the plan had been to bring the kids over and open presents and have Christmas dinner there anyway my mom had suggested that the kids just go ahead and spend the night and Shelly had agreed. She had dropped them off at six and said she would see them in the morning. I had my first bad thought of the day. Girls she had gone to college with? Shelly had dropped out half way into her sophomore year and in the twelve years we had been married not once had she mentioned or done anything with the "girls" she had gone to college with. Oh no; I was not thinking good thoughts. "When out on..." the driveway a car pulled in as evidenced by the headlights that swept across the living room window. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was ten after ten. "I sprang up from..." the couch and moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside and look out. "The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow..." showed quite clearly a man and a woman sitting in the car and making out like a couple of teenagers. The two held each other and swapped tongues for what seemed like an hour and while the windows of the car were not steaming up I was certainly becoming steamed. My jaw was clenching and my hands were curled so hard into fists that I was feeling pain in my forearms. "When what to my wondering eyes should appear..." but the man leaning back while the woman's head disappeared from view. It didn't take a brain surgeon or a rocket scientist to know what was going on. "I knew in a moment..." that the man was getting a blow job - a world class blow job as I well knew from all the ones Shelly had given me. I could see it in my mind. Her fingers plating with his balls as she licked his length and teased the head of his cock with her tongue before taking him in her mouth and working him until he was deep in her throat. I could imagine the thoughts that were roaring through his head "as he whistled and shouted and called..." on her to get him off and make him cum. I could almost feel the way he was going to feel when Shelly swallowed every last drop and then licked him clean. "And then in a twinkling..." I saw his head jerk back and I knew that he had just gotten his rocks off and a moment later her head came back up. Some words were exchanged and then I saw both the passenger and driver's door open and I knew that they were coming into the house. I left the window and headed for the basement where I kept all my sports gear. I debated using my nine iron or my putter, but then thought, "No, I'll bend the shafts for sure and ruin a perfectly good club." I decided instead to use my aluminum baseball bat - a little on the side of overkill - but the mood I was in right then overkill was good. I heard the front door open and the two of them come in. I heard murmurs as the two of them moved through the house toward the stairs that led upstairs to the bedrooms and I wondered if she was going to take him on our bed or use one of the kid's rooms. Let them get naked and on the bed, I thought, and let them get started on their mating. That way my entrance would likely go unnoticed until I was close enough to get a really good swing with the bat. I quietly moved up the stairs and paused at the top of the steps. I heard the moans coming from our bedroom and my jaw tightened. As I moved quietly down the hall I was thinking of all the things I would need to do when I was finished in the bedroom. In order to do most of them I was going to have to find a good place to hide until the day after Christmas. I had no doubt that the police would end up involved when I got done with the asshole in my bedroom and on my bed. I couldn't do any of the things I needed to do from a jail cell so I had to stay out of custody until at least 10 AM on the day after the holiday. That should give me enough time to clean out the bank accounts and the safe deposit box. I could probably reach the customer service desks on Christmas Day to cancel the credit cards. But there wouldn't be anything I could do to prevent Shelly from getting the kids. I had never hit a woman and as much as I might want to I wasn't going to start with Shelly. Just seeing me wail on her lover while she thought she was going to be next is what I would have to settle for so she would be physically able to go get the kids while I was in jail. I debated just tossing the two of them out of the house and then going and getting the kids, but then I realized that the way the courts were Shelly would end up getting them anyway so I might as well get my pound of flesh. As I got closer to the bedroom door I decided to wait until I heard them cumming before breaking up their little party. Only fitting I thought, giving them the most pain at the instant they were enjoying the most pleasure. I moved up to the edge of the door and then stood with my back to the wall and listened to what was going on in the bedroom. She was moaning and making sharp little cries and I heard him say: "Damn baby, you are tight. I don't understand it. As much as I fuck you and for as long as I have been fucking you you should be loose enough that I don't have to fight my way in." For as much and as long? How long had it been going on? Jesus H. Christ! I had no inkling. Never had a clue. But I did spend a lot of time on out of town projects and that did give her lots of time to play. I thought that I had a good, solid marriage, but it sure looked like I had been fooling myself. "Oh yeah baby; push baby push. Push back and take my cock deep." The "slap, slap, slap" of flesh meeting flesh came from the room and it was disquieting as hell. "I'm almost there" he said and I got a good grip on the bat. Just as I was ready to move away from the wall and turn and go through the door into the bedroom my cell phone went off. I had set it on vibrate before leaving the basement because I didn't want a ringing cell phone upsetting my plans. Who the hell would be calling me this late on Christmas Eve? I pulled the phone out of my pocket and saw that the number on the screen was Shelly's cell number. Was the bitch calling me so she could talk to me while her lover fucked her? Is that how she got her jollies? I slipped into the room across the hall, quietly closed the door and then answered the phone. "Hello?" "Hi baby. Your mom just told me you called and said you were home." "Where are you?" "I'm at your parent's house. Where are you?" "I'm home." "At the house?" "Yes." "You need to get out of there and come over here and you need to do it right now." "Why?" "Because I gave my sister a Christmas present. Since you were supposed to be gone and I'm spending the night here I told Kelly that she and Brian could use our place tonight instead of having to take a hotel room. I'm letting her borrow the house for a night. You need to get out of there and get over here so you don't ruin their night." I looked down at the baseball bat I had leaned against the wall when I opened the phone and mumbled, "Ruin their night, oh yeah; I wouldn't want to ruin their night. See you in a few." "Hurry baby, I've got a present I want to give you" she said and then she giggled, "but you can't be too noisy or you might wake your parents up. Love you baby." "Love you too." As I closed the flip phone I knew what I was going to give myself for Christmas. I was going to keep to myself what I had almost done. No way would Shelly be the least bit happy with me if she knew the thoughts I'd been having since that car had pulled into the driveway. I could see it all now. "You thought I was what? You can just go sleep in the garage you asshole!" I very quietly got out of the house, got my ten speed out of the garage and set off on the three mile ride to my parent's house. As I pedaled out of the driveway... "I exclaimed ere I rode out of sight, Merry Christmas Kelly and Kevin and have a good night." 'Twas the Night Before Christmas It was Christmas Eve and Billy Marsden was having a difficult time getting to sleep. Although he was much too old to believe in Santa Clause the night still held a magical awe about it. He had ambled up to bed just after midnight leaving his mother sitting in the parlor gazing at the multicolored lights blinking on and off on the tall evergreen standing in the corner with brightly wrapped gifts scattered around its base. Mom had lovingly hung three Christmas stockings from the mantel stuffed with goodies for her grandchildren who would be visiting in the morning. Even as a recent widow living with her eighteen-year-old son Mom was determined to keep Christmas special for the kids. Billy had just dozed off the sleep when he was awaken by an unfamiliar racket downstairs. Quietly Billy got out of bed and tiptoed to the top of the stairs. He could hear strange voices and his mother's moaning coming from down below. He snuck down a few more stairs until he could see into the parlor. Billy Marsden could not believe what greeted his eyes. In the middle of the parlor was jolly old St. Nicholas and his mother. Billy's mother was totally naked with her large breasts cupped in Santa's hands as he humped her from behind. To add to the spectacle there were a couple of miniature elves caressing and kissing his mother's naked body while she moaned with Santa's gift inside of her. Billy's mouth dropped open in awe as he watched his mother being gang-banged by her Christmas visitors. "Oh Santa!" his mother moaned as she rocked back onto Santa's thick candy cane. Billy an elf in a green suit hanging from his mother's nipple like a Christmas tree ornament whilst his cohort was reaching up squeezing the other breasts like an enormous lump of Play Dough. Billy was fascinated, watching his mother receiving her Christmas joy and obviously enjoying it very much. He couldn't wait to see what surprise Santa might leave for him to find hidden in his mother's secret hiding spot. Billy's mother's eyes popped open with delight as Santa groaned pumping her full of Christmas cheer. Billy felt so naughty watching his mother having sex with Father Christmas. Santa pulled his spent cane from his mother's pussy with a thin strand of cum stretching like angel's hair until it snapped. Mother dropped to her knees before Santa offering to clean his joy giver in her mouth. As Billy watched his mother's tongue licked Santa's cock and balls until they glistened with her saliva. Billy realized he had reached inside his pajamas had was holding his own cock in his hand. Billy's cock had grown hard watching Santa fucking his mother and he knew he wanted to dip it into what the old bearded one had deposited inside is mother's just fucked hole. He couldn't wait for their visitors to be on their way to visit some other Moms. Finally they were gone, whisked up the chimney, Billy heard the clatter of tiny hooves on the roof and a distant cry, "Merry Christmas Billy!" Billy looked at his mother kneeling naked with Santa's cum glistening on her chin. Billy came down the remainder of the stairs surprising is mother. "Merry Christmas Mom!" he greeted her. "Billy, how long have you been watching?" she asked. "Long enough to see what Santa gave you!" Billy grinned. "I thought you didn't believe in Santa anymore?" his mother sarcastically asked. "I don't believe what I just saw, you let him fuck you Mom?" Billy replied. "Moms need fucking too Billy, that's why they are Moms." She informed her son. Billy looked at his naked mother with newly opened eyes. After having three children she was still quite appealing. Her curly blonde hair, limpid blue eyes and cute pug nose still presented a pretty face and her large full breasts with the succulent pink nipples he had nursed on still looked inviting to her grown son. A tangle nest of golden strands covered the opening where Santa had hidden her gift. Billy decided that he wanted to fuck his mother. "Can I see what Santa left?" he asked his mom. "If you want to!" she said standing and bending over the arm of the big comfy couch. From his vantage point Billy could see Santa's cum weeping out of his mother's recently fucked hole, he had to feel his cock in that mess. Billy's cock returned to the very place it had entered the world so many years ago. Gently holding his mother's rump Billy slid into her warm, snug shelter. "Oh god Mom, you feel so good!" he moaned as his cock twitched inside his mother's womb. "Fuck me son, fuck your Mommy!" she groaned. Billy was no virgin, he had bonked his share of teenyboppers but their tight little pussies were no comparisons with the one his cock was wallowing in now. His mother's hole was the Dusenburg of cunts, while the others were good enough for short jaunts his mother's was to be enjoyed on a long journey. Billy took long, leisurely stokes into his mother's soaking wet hole enjoying Santa's playground. His cockhead was reaching into where is life had been created so many years ago. "Oh yes Billy, you make Mommy feel so good." His mother moaned as another orgasm approached. Billy grasped his mother's bare hips firmly and released his load... "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" 'Twas the Night Before Christmas It was cold outside, but inside Haller's Auto Repair it was warm with the bodies and the breath of men and the cooling engines of cars that people brought in to be worked on, and fragrant with that peculiar bouquet of engine oil, gasoline and dust that characterizes all garages. Since Christmas was approaching, it also smelled of the pine garlands tied up with red ribbons that Haller's wife had made and hung from the walls. Eugene Wanzack, the youngest of Haller's employees, was doing a minor tune-up on Harvey Beck's Ford. He was a sturdy, dark-haired young man of average height, with gray eyes and a squarish, Slavic sort of face that often bore a faintly worried look, but right now he was happy, because he was exactly where he wanted to be. Beck was good about keeping his car maintained, and all it had needed was the oil and other fluids checked and changed, and a new set of plugs. Everyone was trying to avoid starting any job that would hang over into the following day; it would just have to wait until the day after Christmas because everyone was going to be off. Albert Reems, one of the other mechanics, said, "Hey, Gene, have you decided where you're going to stay tonight?" "I guess I have till the end of the day to do that," he said as he adjusted the gap on a plug. He had two choices: he could either stay in town, in his apartment in Matthew Haller's home behind the garage, or he could go home to his parents' farm, outside of town. Going home had its appeal; his mother was a good cook, and the whole family would be there. During the war, they had been one short on Christmas, as his older brother Adam had been in France and England, mostly disabling unexploded bombs and mortars that had landed in people's back yards, but he was home now. Zandra and her husband would probably drop in themselves. Zandra was not the most domestic of wives, and if she could eat someone else's cooking on Christmas Eve as well as Christmas Day, she would. Later on Christmas Day they would visit Uncle Victor and Aunt Ruby and their bunch. The very things that made going home appealing were also a good reason to stay where he was. He had been living in the Hallers' home since the summer of '43; Haller had persuaded Anton Wanzack to let him learn all he could teach him about the art, science and business of car repair, and pointed out that if Gene lived on the premises, it would save Anton having to carry him back and forth every morning and evening. He spent so much time in the garage as it was that he might as well hang around and get paid into the bargain. Anton had consented under the condition that Gene stayed in high school long enough to graduate; it puzzled and irked him that a kid of his should be uninterested in higher education when he'd had to fight his father for every day of schooling he had. Zandra had been to veterinary school and Adam was majoring in electrical engineering at UT. Further, he saw the arrangement as an apprenticeship, pure and simple, and an Old World, old-fashioned way of doing things. But he figured he'd have better luck hanging onto the south end of a northbound bull, to keep Gene on the farm. Gene's apartment had a rudimentary kitchen, but he had hardly used it in the three years he'd been there; Matthew and Clara Haller expected from the outset that he would take his meals with them, and he dined heartily on food that had a hearty, European, pre-War solidity and plentitude. Adam, who stayed thin as a rail no matter what he ate, had warned him in one of his letters not to get fat. Gene wasn't worried. Taking out and re-installing engines, differentials and transmissions, and wrestling tires on and off their rims was enough to keep any man fit. And he had reveled in the attention he received from the couple, as if he were the son they'd never had; he hadn't realized how much he had craved this until he got it. He had often felt shuffled aside, a mere spectator to the crisis and drama that just naturally seemed to blow up around his siblings. And then there was that special bond between them; not that they tried to leave him out; they just did, they couldn't help it, for all that they would back him up in a fight. The closeness had worried Anton and Marie; they felt it was intense to the point of being...well, unhealthy. But the plain fact was, neither of them was the other's type: the women Adam looked at were girlier than Zandra had ever been or could be on her best day; and Zandra had married her type—big and brawny and strong enough to overpower her physically if he wanted to, but easygoing, and with all due respect to Dennis, he was a good man—not quite as intelligent as she was. It was this, Gene thought, which kept them off each other, more than fear of hellfire. While he was musing on these matters, a black 1940 Caddy purred into the garage. Gene looked up. The door opened, and out from the car, first of all, issued a pair of slender, well-turned legs, taut and shining in one of the few pairs of nylon stockings existing in Koenigsburg; clothes rationing might be over, but some things were still rare. A young woman descended from the driver's seat, her dress riding up in a tantalizing manner as she did so. She shut the door of the Caddy, smoothed her skirts down, and came toward him. She had honey-colored hair that she wore in a long pageboy and a naturally melancholy cast to her face, unless she smiled. There were certainly prettier girls around, but on the other hand, besides those legs, she had the best rack he'd ever seen. "Hello, Gene. Hello, Albert," she said, noticing Gene's colleague. "I'm going out, but Aunt Clara wanted me to stop in and ask you if you were staying at the house or going home to your family tonight." She smiled. As quickly as that, Gene made his decision. "I reckon I'm staying in," he said. "Tell Miss Clara I'll see her after work." "Will do," the young woman said. "I'll see you at supper, then." She smiled at him, turned around and went back to her car, her skirt swishing around her legs and her round rump swaying gently as she walked. As the car backed out, he turned his attention back to his work. He wondered why women had to truss themselves up in these torturous-looking underpinnings that might just as well be made out of steel plate, like the armor the knights of old wore, and kept them from looking natural in their clothes. He much preferred the way her breasts looked under her dressing gown, when he passed her in the hall in the mornings when everyone was just getting up. They seemed to shift and strain at the satin cloth of the robe as if they were live things, longing for fresh air, and if it was cold, her nipples—about the size of 3/8" acorn nuts, he thought—sprang out in vivid relief. He could almost imagine the weight and density of those fine Zeppelin breasts in his hands, the nipples pointing up in his palms— "Boy, you're gapping that plug way too wide," Albert said. "Mr. Beck's car ain't gonna start nohow like that. And you better adjust yourself, before ever'body else in here sees what you're thinkin' about." He looked pointedly at Gene's lap, where the front of his pants was being tented by an all too obvious hard-on. Gene blushed and shifted the treacherous object into a less obtrusive position and tried to quit thinking impure thoughts. They'd gotten him in enough trouble already. Cora was Matt Haller's niece, the child of his brother, who was an indirect casualty of WWI. He had been exposed to gas in Aisne and his lungs had never been any good after that; when the flu epidemic hit, he caught it too, and he died. When a few years later, his wife also died, Matt and Clara took their child to raise. The girl had a right to look melancholy, even so; except for her uncle and aunt's care, she had received some unlucky breaks: orphaned by WWI, she had been widowed by WWII. The last thing her husband had done before going off to Europe was to get her pregnant, but she lost the baby. As she was young and healthy, she soon recovered from the miscarriage physically, but she was depressed for a while after. Sometimes Gene would bring her a cup of tea, when he was in the house, or something funny from a magazine or paper that he had cut out, to cheer her up, and they became friends as they never could have when they were younger. To a boy, a girl two or three years older seemed as distant as the moon. One evening, to his astonished pleasure, he found himself walking with her to the drugstore—she said she was in the mood for ice cream, and asked him if he wanted to come along. It was Saturday, and a few of his ex-classmates were in there with their dates. He wondered if anybody would think this little expedition was a date. She disabused him of that idea when the Sundaes came and he began to get out his wallet. "Put your money away, Gene," she said. "You don't have to get my ice cream. I'm getting it for both of us. It was my idea." Gene put his money away. It was plain that she didn't think it was a date. He began to relax. That was last year, but now everything was different. And it was his fault. On summer Sundays, very little happened. There was hardly anywhere to go, and in the heat of the day, everything and everybody shut down. After dinner was finished and cleared away, it was a good time to take a nap. It was too hot to do anything else. That was what Matt and Clara were doing, and Gene presumed that Cora was doing the same thing. He was feeling sleepy, himself, but he was also thinking about the peach pie they'd had for dessert; he had turned down a second piece, and now he was wishing he hadn't. He padded into the kitchen in his trousers, undershirt, and no shoes, and got another piece of pie, which he ate standing up next to the sink, looking out the window. When he was done he put the pie back in the pie safe and rinsed his plate and fork, putting them on the drain board to dry. His place was at the end of the hall; one then turned right and went up a short staircase to a tiny landing. Cora's room was just opposite the passage. The latch to her door was bad; unless she closed it hard, leaned on it and listened for the click of the latch to make sure it had caught, it came open, and since nothing in an old house was quite level, the door would swing a little ajar. She had been after both the men in the house to do something about it—after all, she said, a pair of ace mechanics ought to be equal to fixing a doorknob—but so far nobody had got around to it. Gene paused at the end of the dim corridor. She'd probably meant to close the door this time, and as usual the latch had slipped out and the door fallen open. He thought maybe he should pull it to for her. As he stepped forward to grab the knob, he saw into Cora's room. And all thought of pulling the door to completely fled his mind. She was reclining in a chair of peach-colored velvet, her aqua blue satin dressing gown fallen open. Her naked body was everything that he had been wondering about or could have hoped for, from her luscious breasts to her tiny waist to her well-shaped legs, which were parted and spread wide, to reveal...well, more than he was expecting. Her luxuriant bush was a shade or two darker than her hair, and in its midst, like the flesh of a splitting-ripe fruit, her cunt swelled and glistened. Growing up on a farm, he had seen the parts of various female animals, in heat or not, and although he'd never had a clear look at a human female's parts before, he saw more similarities than differences. What he had not expected to see was the fingers of her right hand skidding wetly over all this suddenly complicated and exotic flesh, now slipping into her vagina, now parting over and bracketing the bud-like nub of her clitoris. While he watched, entranced, she brought forth from the folds of her robe a thick, partially-used candle, the blunt end of which she first slid up and down her slit, and then plunged halfway up inside her. She slowly began to slide it in and out. His gaze shifted between the utterly fascinating way the dark-rose inner lips of her pussy yielded and then clung to the white shaft of the candle, and the concentrated, inward look on her face. He had taken for granted that Cora grieved over the loss of her child and missed the companionship of her husband. It had not occurred to him that she missed anything else. His cock had sprung into ferocious readiness with the speed of a fire hose filling up, and was straining against the front of his trousers. He was barely breathing as he watched the woman's hips rocking to meet the thrusts of the candle, the long muscles of her thighs flexing, faster and faster. A few more thrusts, and she jammed the candle up and in a final time, and her body abruptly pronated and stiffened. Contractions rippled up the muscles of her belly. He heard the heavy panting of her breath. He thought that if he didn't come himself, he would die. There wasn't time even to shove his hand down his pants, let alone open them; he grabbed his cock from the outside, and the encircling pressure of his hand was enough. He gasped as his climax slammed through his body. At that time, Cora relaxed, spent, and then looked up to realize that her door was open. Wild-eyed, she yanked the candle out and shoved it down the side of the chair, and was on her feet, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. It was just a few steps from there to her door, but, he thought afterward, there should have been time to get away. He didn't. He couldn't. She jerked the door open and there he was, hapless, helpless to do anything but what he was doing, gripping his cock which was pulsating wildly in his hand and making a spreading stain on the front of his trousers. She looked at him, her eyes wide, her face flushing; when the door banged shut in his face—and that time she put her shoulder to it and it clicked—he was able to move. He was back in his apartment so quickly he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. For a little while he stood with his back to his door as if something or someone were after him, trembling with shock and embarrassment. Despite the heavy warmth of the room, he felt cold. For several minutes he remained like that, waiting for the world to end. Evidence, he thought. He had to get rid of the evidence. Making sure that his own door was locked, he stripped off his lower garments, feeling his spunk already cooling, congealing, and causing his boxers to cleave to the end of his abashed dick. He put on a pair of clean ones and threw the soiled trousers and underwear into the sink in his small kitchen, running hot water onto them. He attacked the clothing with soap flakes and a scrubbing brush, obsessed with the idea that no one must see the evidence of what he had done. Usually Mrs. Haller was kind enough to wash his clothing if he left them in a basket outside his door, but not these, no, never these. When he was sure the clothes were clean, he wrung as much water out of them as he could and hung them over a chair, and his window sill, to dry. He lay down on his bed in his underwear, looking up at the ceiling without really seeing it. His mind was a whirling chaos of images and fragmented suppositions. He'd never considered that a woman might have a need to do—that—the way a man did. He'd thought that girls were somehow...above all that. If some of them were not, maybe none of them was. It hardly bore thinking about. He thought of Cora's face when she had opened her door and seen him, and wondered what she must be thinking of him. Was she thinking he was some kind of pervert, some kind of peeping tom? In a way, he was, but he hadn't looked at her on purpose. He just hadn't been able to look away. Would she tell on him? Surely not, when he had seen her as well...but it wasn't as if he would say anything. For the next several days when they met each other in the house, they could hardly look at each other. Gene noticed the Hallers looking at both of them with puzzlement and a little concern, and dreaded the moment when one or the other of them would demand some kind of explanation from him. They would not have been the only ones. He could use a few explanations, himself; he wished there were someone he could talk to. Anybody he worked with was out of the question. The priest? He hadn't been to confession since he'd left home, and he would be doing penance from now until next summer. He thought briefly of talking to his father, or his brother. One was a possibility, although Anton would probably just remind him that blue-balledness was a natural condition for a man of his station of life, as surely as a flower had to be a bud first. As for Adam...he used to be a romantic, falling in love at least once a year, but the war had changed him. There was a woman, a good-looking widow who lived between Koenigsburg and the next town, who would let certain gentlemen call on her and spend the night, as long as they understood that they were to leave money on her dresser the next morning...That was the kind of advice his older brother would give him. It wasn't his business, but it seemed to Gene like an unsatisfactory way to operate. That left his sister, so a couple of Sundays after this event had taken place, he borrowed one of the garage cars and went to his brother's farm. He found Dennis there alone. "It's Sunday!" he said. "What's she doing out on calls?" "It's not like animals know to put off being sick until Monday. Well, Dr. Muldaur promised to take her into his practice, and it looks like that starts with taking over his Sunday business. She gave me a list of where she was going to be..." He pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. "Looks like you're going to have to chase her down. You want me to come with you?" "You don't have to," Gene said, "unless you just want to see her." "That's all right," Dennis said with a grin. "I know she's coming home." He ran her down at the Elsings' farm, where she was examining a horse. She looked surprised to see him. "You look a little down in the mouth," she said. "What's going on with you?" She gave him a sharp look. "Something bothering you? Tell me about it. But it'll cost you." Gene looked at her questioningly. "Just hold this beast's head while I get this dose of medicine down him, will you?" She listened while he related his story, one corner of her mouth twitching. "Well, blow me down," she said when he was done. "And here I thought you'd made up your mind to die young." "It's not funny," Gene said. "If Mr. Haller had caught me, I would have died young." "You know what I mean. You were always the good kid of us three. I must say, when you decide to bust loose, you do it up brown. Anyway, he didn't catch you and he won't find out unless she tells him, and I'd bet a week's pay she won't do that. You've got a Mexican standoff here. Another thing: for all you know, she could have been thinking about you..." "That's crazy," Gene said. "She thinks I'm a kid." "Do you think so? You're not, you know." She was right. Now that high school was behind them, he and his classmates were sorting themselves out into what they would be doing with their lives; some, to work their family's land, some to take jobs in town, some to college or the military. Many of them had paired off already. He was keeping his eyes and his options open. As the best-behaved of the Wanzack kids, he'd had his share of pleasant dates, but the older he got, the more he found that some of the girls' parents were giving them The Talk—the one that invariably included the phrase, "His folks are good, good people, but..." But. But. The family's obscure eastern European origins, and their eccentricity. The fact that they worked the land, and didn't live in town. Maybe he should have considered going to college. Trouble was, when he thought of it, he couldn't see himself there. He couldn't imagine anything at a university as interesting and challenging as working on cars. The other men in the shop made enough money to live decently and support a family. Now that he was through with school, he was working more hours and starting to make more money, most of which he banked. He was saving up for a car of his own...