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Sendie

By: Dngnmastr



It was dark, raining like hell, thundering and lightning like I'd never seen before. I sure as hell wasn't going to try to find another campground in this weather, and to make things even worse, I was down to less than a quarter tank of gas. 

I'd already passed through two of those little Southern towns, you know the kind, where the "Welcome to" and "Population" info is painted on both sides of the same sign, they're that small. Neither had a motel, one had a gas station but it from the looks of it, it was closed since 1944 or thereabouts. So there I was, creeping along back-Highway number whatever, in the rain and the dark, just hoping to find someplace dry to sleep. I could worry about getting gas in the morning. 

With all of the lightning flashes, I'd already had a couple false hopes that turned out to not be lit-up signs after all (one was actually a freakin' tree on fire, I actually sat for almost five minutes, gawping out the window at it, until the rain put it out – you don 't see that every day!).

I was still slowly moving along, looking for a safe place to pull off, and pretty much resigned to sleeping in the car, so I actually yelled "YES!" when I saw, between flashes, a couple steadily glowing lights, one of them a neon "Coca-Cola" sign up ahead on the right. As I got closer, I realized it was one of those combination gas-store-laundromat-post-office places that seem to spring up all over the South, and that somehow manage to cling to life despite the best efforts of Sam Walton and family.

I pulled in and was only mildly disappointed to see that the gas station was closed, because it seemed to be in good repair, and for some reason, the lights were still on in the back of the coin laundry, and the sign on the door said "Open". So I parked in front, hurriedly bundled up my pack, my sleeping bag and some munchies, thought for a moment, and said "Well, why not, I'm gonna get wet here anyway?" and grabbed my (rather full) laundry bag as well, and plunged out into the deluge.

Good plan, bad timing. In the ten or twelve seconds that it took me to get out, close the door, stagger across the twenty feet or so between my car and the Laundromat door, another really huge BOOM!!! and lightning flash went off seemingly right behind me, so that I was blinded and banged my head against the door. Between the lightning and the blow, I was a bit stunned, and by the time I fumbled with the door handle, picked up my laundry bag from the puddle it was in, and got inside, I was completely soaked. And as my eyes adjusted, I stood there blinking, wondering where all the lights had gone.. well, of course, they had gone OUT.

After a moment, I'd recovered enough to realize that I was now inside a big dark room that was at least dry other than the sizeable puddle I was making, and much better than being in a humid car, so I decided to take a few minutes to spread out my stuff on the tops of the washers and dryers. I had no sooner stripped down to my underwear and the only dry (if not fresh) sweatshirt I had in my bag when suddenly I heard what sounded like a muffled squeak of some sort and a loud thump at the back, where (until recently) there had been some lights on.

I had just had time to think: "Oh shit", if that's the owner, this is gonna look weird, me standing here in my underwear, I just hope I don't get SHOT!", when another close lightning flash and accompanying BOOM!!! shook the place and there was a soft moan less than 10 feet behind me. I spun around and was immediately bounced backwards about two feet by something fairly large and soft that said "EEK!!!", that seemed to be female. Whoever she was (another distant flash had showed me that it was definitely a "she", about 5 feet tall, maybe a third that wide, dressed in some kind of big flannel shirt or something and wearing something black from the waist down, and she apparently hadn't seen me either. From the way she banged into one of the washers, ricocheted off that and into the facing row of dryers, said "eek!" again and flew off in another direction, and spent the next few moments bumping into things and "eek!"-ing at least half a dozen times, it was quite obvious that she was completely panicked, so I figured I'd better at least say something (getting shot being still very much on my mind, you see).

Just as I was about to say a rather inane "Hi, there!", random chance intervened and she pin-balled ("eek!") off the same machine beside me that she had hit initially and I was able to corral her in my outstretched arms against it (I had the good sense to have my palms facing the floor, so as not to touch anything strategic). She "eek!"-d once more and seemed ready to launch again, so I said "HEY! It's Okay!" in my firmest 'classroom' voice, just as the lights came on at the back again.

She stood there for a few moments, gasping, leaning backwards against the washer, and I was suddenly very conscious that she was not only female, but very much so. She had very thick, dark hair, one bang hanging down slightly over her left eye, and I could tell she was pretty even with the weak light, but it was hard to tell what her figure was like with the big shirt. She seemed to be a bit heavy-set and rather well padded in the upper-middle area – it was hard not to notice that with all of the gasping and chest heaving and she was wearing some sort of black, tight leggings on short but well-formed legs. To sum up, she was lovely, and the physical type of woman that turns me on the most. As she finally got a look at me, she seemed to slowly come out of her panic attack, and I was quite thankful she was steadily looking up at my face, not downwards (as I was pretty sure that seeing me in my underwear would probably have set her off again).

Then she managed to say something coherent at least: "Hoo.... OhmaGawd, you skeered me so bad, ah thought ah'd just dah!!" (yes, she actually said "skeered" and "dah"), so I backed up a step, lowered my arms, and said, as calmly as I could, given that was standing half-naked in front of a very attractive woman in a semi-darkened Laundromat in a raging thunderstorm, "Hello, my name's Wayne, sorry to have startled you." and stuck out my right hand.

Now, that was probably a bit of a tactical error, and could have ended in disaster, because she then had to look down in order to see my hand, and of course, with the top of her head coming up to around my chin, looking down for her was to look at around my waist height, but instead of completely losing it, she took my hand, shook it and said "Sendie". It was a nice hand, decent grip, somewhat thick fingers, and I could tell she had fingernails, from the way they gently grazed the base of my thumb (you notice the strangest things sometimes).

We stood there for a few seconds, shaking hands, sort of smiling reassuringly to one another, while I desperately tried to figure out what name she had just said (or if it was a name at all, was it a greeting, like "Howdy", or something?), when the moment was interrupted by the most horrific ROAR of thunder I'd ever heard, the whole place shook like a bomb had gone off, and not only were we plunged into complete darkness, but she screamed and hurled herself at me bodily.

I only really discovered that last after the fact, though, because one moment I was standing there holding her hand, and the next (for me) I was laying on my back and "Sendie" was laying completely on top of me, her arms wrapped around my neck, legs straddling my waist, clinging to me for dear life and now sobbing and gasping all over again, and my own arms quite naturally went around her, my left one at her waist, the right at her upper back, and held her close to me.

Now, even with the wind knocked out of me slightly, the back of my head hurting, and the sudden lack of light, I could tell that I had misjudged her figure rather badly. Well-padded, yes, over-weight, definitely not; the reason she filled out the big shirt so well was that she was carrying around a very large set of full, firm and very real breasts under there.... And said breasts were not only pressed hard against my chest, but with her arms around my neck and her face buried in MY neck, it was very clear that she was not wearing a bra. I could feel them clearly through her shirt and mine, so deliciously soft and smushed against my chest, that within about ten seconds the gallant reflex started to kick in seriously, I couldn't have stopped my erection if I'd wanted to.

Not only that, she was wearing the most alluring perfume I've ever inhaled, and despite the strange circumstances, despite having just met her, and all of it, with this intensely sexy woman holding me, I was suddenly SO aroused that I was stricken completely speechless; all I could do was lay there and hold her close, stroke her back and say "Shhhh" over and over. 

Finally, after about two minutes of this, she calmed down enough to raise her head far enough from my neck to say, "Ah (gasp), Ah (gasp), Ah'm just so (gasp, hiccup) afraid of the DORK!!!!", then collapsed sobbing softly onto my neck again; she was literally trembling all over, and I could feel her hot tears on my skin in one of those moments you never forget, and never want to end.

By this time, though and in this context, (and having spent the last few weeks in the South), I brilliantly figured that by "dork", she probably meant the "dork" that was surrounding us, and not the one between my legs that was now throbbing, achingly hard and unavoidably pressing against her firm midsection, which she surely had to be feeling with those skin-tight leggings. 

At least I hoped she wasn't afraid of that, because there was no way in hell I was going to break up the moment unless someone walked in and pointed a shotgun at me, and even then I'd make sure she let go first. So I lay there and held her tightly while she quietly sobbed and clung to me, this strange and beautiful frightened creature, feeling as if I were part white knight, and part satyr, and loving every sweet and wonderful moment of it.

As her sobs and gasps slowly subsided, and turned to trembling, deep, sniffling sighs... to complete the magical quality of it all, she raised her head from my neck, held her face over mine in the dark, and I could feel her fresh tears on my cheeks.

I sensed somehow that she was looking at me, staring at me there on that floor, in that pitch dark Laundromat, and I held my breath... because I knew, just KNEW, somehow, that this moment was a turning point in my life.

And then she kissed me... softly at first, just barely brushing her lips against mine over and over, moaning almost inaudibly, but then quickly crushing her lips to mine in what I will always remember as the single most passionate, desperate kiss of my entire life, before or since. It was one of those perfect kisses that alters your perceptions of what a kiss can and should be, and I knew, at that moment, when I began to kiss her back, that I was forever lost.

Sending an E-mail to say Please...



The sky was clouded over as Claire rushed into the office and shook off her coat, far too hot right now but probably good enough for later on. Grey. It was all grey at the moment: in the mornings when heading to work, in the evenings when returning, in the rare moments she stopped and turned round to gaze through the perfectly rectangular window that afforded a peak into a dull car park and buildings just beyond.

"Morning, Claire!" The receptionist.

A grunt back; a growl almost. Not his fault that the days were grey, but what to do.

Claire clambered into the lift, alone, and hit the button to take her upwards. It glowed green and then, snail-like, the doors slid shut and the lift elevated achingly slowly up and up, floor by floor. Enough time for Claire to take off her glasses, breathe on them, and slowly clean them with circular jolts on her pink shirt.

The doors yawned open and Claire walked in, waving a smile at a few people and finding her desk, poked neatly away from the others, a long-dead plant belonging to a long-dismissed employee shoved in a corner, with rolled up, spent crisp packets shoved in there for company and a few scraps of shredded paper. As always, her eye was drawn to a smidgeon of yellow with the number 7 scrawled on it in fussy blue biro, her own handwriting. A date that hadn't gone too far, a fumbled kiss with too much tongue and no more. She wondered how he was nowadays and had that silly, fleeting, guttural urge to find out... but there was a reason his number had been shredded and lost, and the kissing had been crap. Claire felt herself reddening a little and bit her lip as she loaded up her PC.

She looked outside the window. The sky throbbed dark now, her head swelling with the oncoming storm. She found herself adjusting her glasses once again and then turned back to her PC. Its screen was black, waiting to load, and she caught a brief glimpse of her face. She reached into her bag and slowly applied more gloss to her lips, quickly filling in her username and password afterwards (and getting the password wrong by one character, the same as she always did when not properly paying attention). The computer loaded again when her phone buzzed.

Claire stopped, breath snatched, and looked nervously around her. No-one was paying attention. A couple were talking about the match last night, others were already going for coffee, some were even working.

Claire's eyes darted back to her handbag, and she took her phone out and looked:

ONE MESSAGE: MICHAEL.

Michael. Claire's heart seemed to echo now. She wanted him to text, of course, but it still felt unexpected, like it wasn't something he'd actually do. Which was ridiculous as text was all they *had* done so far. Hesitant and probing at first, each of them trying to suss out the other's boundaries, or lack thereof. It began with kissing, as always: a couple of kisses on the end of a text, a daring one-off, and then the standard. And then a texted hug, snuggle, long kiss in asterixes, and then... and then the first photos. The smiles of them both, slowly showing more neck and moving from outside to inside to sofas to beds. And then that first, hesitant photo of the glimpse of a bra strap, which he had responded to with a bulging boxer short shot; then her hand slowly shifting away a bra strap, his hand teasingly down his boxers, and then...

And then the more stark photos, the text messages, her breathy phone call to let him hear her shudder with pleasure.

But no meetings. Still. She looked at her phone again. Michael. Claire flicked the screen lock off and, more excitedly than she'd ever admit to herself, opened his text.

"Thinking of you, late for work because of it... ;)"

Uh-huh. A winking face; no photos or lust for more or promises. No meetings still. Claire frowned. This was starting to frustrate now: she was cute, right? Hair that was blonde and long enough; not the blonde that is white in parts or bottled, but pure, almost strawberry but not quite: the sort that'd smell of fruit you'd expect. Breasts that were larger than you'd think with hefty, pink areola that sunk into her freckle-kissed skin. Kissing... yes, her kissing was fucking hot and her kissing elsewhere was... well, she got results.

The window behind her shook a little. The first spit parcels of rain hit it, and she settled down to work. Her to-do list was simultaneously the low-point of her existence and the only reason she kept her job. She was middling at best at work, getting the job done, but not with any real flair, nor a passion.

Passion. She thought of Michael again and felt a dull, damp thud below. How long had it been now since someone other than her last glided across her belly and thighs and pussy? Months, yes, but how many?

Claire tried to count it off on her fingers, but quickly stopped. It just grew depressing when the exact number of months proved elusive. It only made that want larger still. No amount of toying, or indeed toys, could substitute a kiss.

Winky face. Michael thought her worth a quick wank in the early hours and a winky face, but not a meeting to actually put into practice all they'd talked about on text, over phone calls, through e-mails... It was frustrating.

Claire loaded up her inbox. Christ. A dozen fresh messages that needed to be fielded left, right and centre before the afternoon was there. Not too bad normally, but her mind was... elsewhere. She felt herself involuntarily uncrossing her legs and resting her hand on her knee, tapping with... with what? Frustration? Want? Need? Boredom? All of the above?

Claire opened a new tab and fired up her own, personal e-mail inbox, too. She'd learnt long ago that no-one bothered to check the Internet history here; a quick use of several co-workers' PCs revealed Facebook accounts, Plenty of Fish messages, bingo, betting, and a hastily closed tab of lesbian porn (ruined by the pop-ups which followed and were denied through and through, of course).

No new messages today, or at least, none from actual people. A couple of vouchers and offers, one promotional from the local coffee shop, and the chance to expand the length of her penis (which she did not have). Heck, the only person's cock she'd been expanding recently was Michael's, and he was hardly returning the favour.

She saw his last e-mail, resting in her inbox and opened it. For one flash of a moment, she feared that his dick would be reflected upon the window behind her, but she checked herself. She felt that *every* time she loaded up an e-mail: would there be a niece on the glass? An advert for tampons? Something more?

She looked back anyway. The rain was heavy now, and the window as flecked with fingerprints and grub as ever to make any sort of reflection impossible. This place was a fucking mess. She turned back to her PC. No cock. The usual talk though: overuse of the word cunt (she always called hers her pussy, but he had made it clear what he wanted), promises of her sucking his throbbing head, the word 'soon' over and over.

And then, there, stirring: the first thought. What can I do to get him? Because the pictures made him jerk off, sure, and the phone call had left him with little time before he erupted, but what more? She looked at his e-mail and found herself hitting reply.

What more? Easy. If he wasn't convinced yet, she would tell him, explicitly, outright. She started to type.

"Michael.

I want you. No "I am busy" or "I want you as well, but..." or "Soon" and a photo, zoomed close and not flesh-like enough of your cock. No. I want you and you alone. Your tongue and your head and your sweat and your hot cum.

Kiss me. Kiss me on the neck and slide your tongue down it. Let it rest; let it lay, heavy-hot at the tip of my nipple before you suck it, hard, soft bites with your soft teeth and that gasp from my glossed, soft lips as it sends jolts of craving across my skin.

Eat my cunt. Make it wet and hot and sticky; that white stringy web of cum as your tongue enters me and laps up to my clit, sucking the hood closer and swirling it round with spit, heat and my own stickiness.

Give me your hands. Hold my wrists as you slide that fat, hard cock of yours into me, grazing my hood and labia with its eager head as your skin pulls back as it slides so easily inside me; hot and wet and warm and tight, my flexing my muscles to wrap myself round your dick as my eyes and lips and voice all beg you to fuck my cunt: to fuck it hard, to fuck it quick, to push my legs back to fuck me deep.

Slide out and give me your cock; to let me take it deep into my throat and look up at you with mascara-framed eyes so it looks bigger than usual for you; to feel my spit and my gloss stick to its skin and head as I wrap my hand hard and wank it whilst fucking it with my mouth, one hand flitting across my clit to make it hotter still.

Make my skin red with your hard fucking and hands clamping and begged spanking and elbows burnt on soft linen as you arch closer still to kiss me as the first heap of precum fills my body.

Bleeding lips where your teeth and mine tug on one another. Bruised shoulders where my teeth couldn't resist. Sweat and soft cunt filling the air with thick, hot scent.

Come here and fuck me now, fuck me later. And don't you dare fucking stop until I tell you you can. Because I'm yours to make wet, and I know you like it when I tell you that. I know you're hard right now, just thinking of all this and all of me. So put down this fucking e-mail and get to me, quick. This girl is yours; her cunt is yours.

Hurry. Always hurry.

Me xxx"

Claire looked back at it. She paused briefly then hit send. Sharp, quick, gone; no fanfare or whooshing noise as the sound was off. It was done. Nothing but a footnote in her Sent Messages box on the screen.

Claire sat back and breathed in. Then immediately clicked on her Sent Messages box and re-read the e-mail, half-panicked that she'd sent something so... needy, half-excited that she'd been that forward; that explicit and demanding. Because, fuck it, it was about time she stopped being so quiet and gave in to it. Owned it. Made him see that she wanted him, but that she wouldn't just fuck anyone.

She squirmed a little in her seat, pricks of arousal arresting her attention as they crept up her arms and across her legs. She flicked through the e-mail again, eyes darting across phrases: "I'm yours to make wet", "Feel my spit and my gloss stick to its skin and head", "Flexing my muscles to wrap myself round your dick" ...

Claire snapped herself out of reading. Her left hand had strayed down to softly flit over the zip on her tight jeans. Not good; carried away; lost in need.

Back to work. An e-mail fired off, an appointment cancelled, "I wrap my hand hard and wank it whilst fucking it with my mouth", a spreadsheet adjusted, another e-mail, "hands clamping and begged spanking", inbox open, "Sweat and soft cunt filling the air", coffee needed, bathroom gone to, "This girl is yours", fuck it.

Into the cubicle, door slammed shut, jeans eased off, laced knickers pulled, and that first buzz of release as her marble-painted nails found her wet hood and turned a soft circle, gasping, labia spread open and air tingling her pussy as her fingers worked on her clit.

Claire closed her eyes with her teeth biting down as her fingers slid, soaked already, across her pussy lips and sensitive, white clit, visible now and groaning for her touch. She thought of her areola darkening as her pussy grew damper still and fingers flexed, teasing her clit and sliding over and just into herself, tips probing, her taste now filling her senses as she slid into herself, pictured the look of want on her face, softly whimpered with release and an urgency to finish hard and fast, and kept on playing.

Claire couldn't recall the last time she had been this wet or turned on. She briefly took off her hand, spat on her fingers, and firmly shoved them back, pushing harder now and firmer, labia extended and hot, clit wet and sensitive to every pulse and push and flit and flick and graze and... and... and...

And, FUCK. An audible, high-pitched whine of utter orgasmic bliss and yearning for the feeling to extend. Utter, thorough, sticky satisfaction.

Claire shut her eyes and laughed to herself, chest juddering and skin still sensitive, breath ragged and rattling. She smiled, a bit nervous now as she remembered where she was, but sure as she could be that she'd been quiet enough and no-one else was there and even if they were...

She half-heartedly wiped her hand across her pussy, damp and red. Her fingers smelt of her cum and her breasts craved attention, but she knew she had to go back. There was a sense of closure now, perhaps; of something sated.

Claire adjusted herself, hot perhaps but thoroughly pleased, a smile that yawned inside and out of her. Her pussy felt as if it were glowing; and she had not thought of Michael to do that, not even once...



Sending Santa Off



It's a couple hours before Santa has to leave for his once a year big night out spreading cheer to all the wonderful people of Earth. Both the nice and something a little extra special for all those naughty little girls usually with a special little note from Mrs Claus. Little does anyone really know it is Mrs Claus who really runs the North Pole. Even the elves are totally unaware as her dominance is totally perfected. What everyone takes as a super sweet innocent smile is exactly that to everyone but Santa. He knows the true power in that smile. He knew from the moment he first laid eyes on her all those many years ago that he couldn't resist her in any way. He couldn't fight those hypnotic eyes when combined with that smile and he would just turn to cookie dough that was shaped to her whim. He was totally devoted and incredibly submissive to her but only behind closed doors did the true depth of that side of them ever come out.

At the moment he was in the Claus suite of the North Pole with Mrs Claus. The routine is down with the North Pole crew. Santa's supervision is just not needed. So he is taking a few minutes to relax before his busy night or so he had hoped. He had just finished getting his suit on and sat down with a glass of egg nog (the rumors of it being reindeer cum are not totally true. It is only an added ingredient for that extra special kick.) When Mrs Claus came in wearing a new outfit that left nothing to the imagination. Just a black bra with a little micro skirt to match his coat with red high heels and a dark green garter. What really caught his attention though was the strand of Christmas lights in her hand and mischievous smile upon her lips. As much as he wanted to relax he knew he was in for a very special goodbye.

Standing in front of him with her legs spread far enough to see the black matching thong under the skirt he sits there looking up at her, drinking her in through his eyes while he awaits her first command. He has learned very through and through never to do anything without her explicit permission when she brings this side out. He tried to resist at first but not only did she not take too kindly to that she made sure to spend an inordinate amount of time training him out of such bad habits. He also learned quickly that obeying her implicitly had wonderful rewards as he discovered that she had a sexual imagination that Aphrodite herself only rivaled.

Bending with an exaggerated sexiness at her hips with her back arched she leaned forward lacing her fingers into his beard and pulling him towards her. Forcefully pressing her lips against his while still pulling his beard her tongue quickly penetrates his lips. The taste of her permeating throughout his mind, her natural scent accented with just a hint of pine invading his nostrils sending his mind into sexual over drive. He did however know better than to push forward. He could still remember the burning across his ass that first time he presumed he could just do as he pleased without first obtaining her permission. 

Pulling his head closer to her she whispers in his ear, "I thought you might like a little reminder of what you have to come home to later and maybe just a hint of what might happen if I smell any naughty girls on you when I next see you." 

Taking Santa's ear between her teeth and slowly standing up. His ear tugging through her teeth with an extra little nip at the end. Standing up straight in front of him she is leaning back with one hand on her chin and the other wrapped around her side smiling mischievously as though contemplating where to start and how far to go in what time she had with him before the elves came looking for him. 

Deciding first the suit bottoms had to go as they are all padding since Mistress Claus put Santa on a diet. She couldn't take the jelly belly anymore when technology could simulate it in the suit. No her Santa was rock solid in more ways than one and fit as a fiddle. She was happy he had yet to put his boots on. She did get to giggle though as he still had the padded top on and wouldn't get to see the special surprise she had in mind coming until it was already upon him.

Taking him by the hand she decided the bed would be the best place to start tonight. Laying him back on the bed making sure he was nice and comfy with his hands laying on the bed above his head. His legs spread just a little beyond shoulder width. His cock was standing proudly erect. She couldn't wait to play with it. He was her toy for the next hour and she would get her pleasure out of him.

Ordering him to stay still she slowly dips below his line of sight over the fake belly. With only some peppermint scented candles lighting the room she kept her movements quiet leaving him with only the sense of touch. She always kept her nails fairly long which she loved to tease him with. With only the tips of her fingers and nails gently touching down and raking upwards along his inner thighs. Simultaneously traveling closer to his rod which was so hard it was twitching in time with his racing heart. It made her smile and proud that she did that to him. She pushed her fingertips under his balls and around the base of his shaft hooking it with her thumbs under his sack. Continuing up his belly under his suit her finger traveling through his hairy hard ridged belly and up his chest. She could feel her own sex getting steamy hot.

She loved his nipples which were much larger than average because she made them so through constant vacuum stimulation. He didn't mind because with their extra growth they got incredibly sensitive and she paid so much attention to them who could even consider complaining. They were easily bigger than some women's now. As her fingers went up his chest she made sure to graze the sides of his nipples before her palms skimmed over the tips. Digging her nails in fairly hard she begins to slowly pull them back down his chest. Firing the nerves all up and down his front evidenced in an increased pace of his twitch. Just as her index fingers reach his nipples she gives them a good pinch while simultaneously placing a gentle kiss on the underside of his swelled head. The triple sensation causing him to gasp and let out a low deep moan. 

She continued to roll his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers as she slowly slipped his cock between her lips stopping once they were locked on the rim. Swirling her tongue around the head first one direction then the other. Santa let out another long moan. 

She knew exactly how to drive him insane. From the first time they were together she did things to him that defied belief. Tonight was no different and Mistress Claus is well aware of the effect she is having on him. With that thought in mind she smiled with his cock in her mouth and pushed herself down his shaft. Inch by inch he disappeared into her mouth and down her throat. 

With Santa's big fake belly in the way he couldn't see what she was doing but he could feel that every bit of her mouth and throat was swallowing his cock whole. Farther and farther he could feel her lips traveling down his shaft to it's base. "Oh Fuck!" He thought to himself, "that is her nose against my belly and her tongue is fucking magical against my balls." He could already feel that he wouldn't be much longer before he would be blowing a big load down her throat. 

Santa's eyes were closed and he was in heaven. He was getting incredible head right before his busiest night of the year. However Santa forgot his place. He was trained better than this. He knew he had to ask her permission to cum. She didn't like it when he finished too fast. It left her less than satisfied so you can imagine Santa's total surprise when she gave a constricting testicle a one finger flick just as his cock left her throat. Unfortunately for him she was watching for his reaction. He caught himself before he stopped her but not before she saw him move. He could feel the wicked smile on her face. She didn't even need to say anything. He knew his night was about to get interesting. Though he also knew interesting would have its reward as well.

Looking at his face through his padded belly she gave him a smile sweet as gum drops but the wickedness behind it was palpable. She stood up and grabbed the strand of colored lights she put the side in anticipation of tying Santa up. Obviously a seasoned pro she quickly had his wrists tied together in an inescapable manner and had them secured above his head to the bed. With a devious thought she added two additional sets of lights. One around each ankle and spread him wide. For added Christmas spirit she plugged them all in once she was done. Now completely unable to move she was his to play with as she pleased.

"Now for a little extra fun with Santa and remind him why he doesn't need to play with the naughty little girls that try to stay awake just to get a special present from Santa." Mistress Claus giggled to herself knowing there was a special present for Santa at the end. With that she took his cock in her hand starting at the very tip and slowly stroking downward. Adding the second hand once there was room on his big shaft. Hand over hand she stroked him several times. Stopping with both hands wrapped around him her tongue rapidly darting out barely flicking the very tip. Teasing him to a frenzy but not enough to send him too far. No she was going to make this last. She wanted to tease him and play with him bringing him to the edge until he absolutely could not hold out any longer. Only then when he was begging with his very spirit to let him cum would she let him. 

Increasing the circles of her tongue they eventually traveled completely around his head. Sometimes slow and sometimes fast, first one direction and then randomly the other. All while holding both hands firmly still on his shaft. The sensation making his cock even harder if that was possible. Then she dropped her lips down his head again. Once her lips passed the rim of his head she began a gentle sucking and bobbing of her head up and down barely a quarter of an inch making Santa suck in a big lung full of air. As he began to release it with a groan she dropped herself down his shaft again placing it deep within her throat. Controlling her gag reflex as her nose touches his belly she began to swallow several times letting the muscles of her throat massage the length of him all at once. 

"Oh Fuck what is she doing to me? How does she possibly expect me to last with her doing that?" Santa is only half worried to himself because he knows full well that she won't let him cum until she is damn ready for him too. But fuck I hope she doesn't make me beg tonight. 

Just then she started pushing him towards the edge again. His balls started constricting again and she knew it. Quickly she released and gave his cock a good open hand slap. Nothing that would hurt but certainly shock enough to stop his orgasm. AGAIN! 

"Fuck! Babe! Please let me cum! You are driving me insane. I can't take much more of this!" Santa started whining. 

That is when she knew she absolutely had him where she wanted him. She smiled brightly to herself as she gently slipped her middle finger into his ass. He tightened down at the sudden invasion but quickly her finger was pushed all the way to its base gently rubbing his prostate. She felt his ass begin to self lubricate and loosen up. She sat there watching his cock with his pounding heart. He was off in his own world with the sensations building within him. She knew from experience his orgasm was now building through his whole body. When she finally granted him the ultimate pleasure it would rip through his entire being. She would be right there to watch every second of it. Feel it flow through him while he erupted simultaneously from his cock.

Increasing the stroke of her finger inside him she left only the tip of her finger inside before plunging it back in. Soon adding a second finger he was rapidly building to a point even she wouldn't be able to stop. All while watching his cock twitch faster and faster. Should she force the orgasm from him without touching him she pondered with a finger from her other hand across her lips. "Nah it is Christmas eve after all. I'll save that for New Year's Eve." She said aloud without thinking.

"What did she just say?" Santa thought alarmed and he tried to pick his head up but tied down as he was he could not see over his stuffed belly. Not that it matters he was so close to a mind blowing orgasm he really didn't care what she was saying. Then her hand was around his shaft slowly stroking up and down. Her lips wrapped around the head sealing tightly beyond the rim. Applying technique that she knew oh so well she fucked, stroked, and sucked him. The buildup bringing him to a point of total speech loss as he went past any chance of stopping. He could feel it from the top of his head to his toes. The it suddenly intensified as he began blowing spurt after spurt to the very back of her throat. Seven or eight times he injected his juice into her mouth. When he finally finished he just completely relaxed and fought his bounds no more.

Trying not to smile at the amount of cum Santa was depositing into her mouth she was able to catch all if it. Thanks to a natural minimal gag reflex she was also able to avoid swallowing any of it. Now for Santa's special surprise. Iced cookie.

She stood up and straddled his face. Placing her naked dripping wet pussy on his chin. His beard grown in special for this time of year tickling her sensitive parts making her drip even more. Clearly marking her territory before Santa goes to visit all the naughty little girls. Leaning directly over she lets his cum slowly fall from her mouth landing on her clit and running down her slit. Santa realized quickly what she was doing and tried to clean her well as he knew was expected. But there was so much he knew he wouldn't get it all. 

Once her mouth was empty she smiled down at him and said, "Merry Christmas Santa." Biting the tip of her finger she began to grind her pussy all over Santa's face. Leaving a mixture of their juices within his beard. 

Leaving him tied up she laid down on the bed snuggled up right until the elves were banging on the door, "Santa lets go you can't wait any longer or you won't get to everyone."

Finally releasing him knowing he wouldn't have time to wash his beard she smiled sweetly at him, kissed him on the lips and said, "hurry home."

Merry Christmas 2014