Forever Santa
mc; Mf+; Mf; Mdom; oral; anal; inc
The Yule always marked moments of occasion in my life. I fell in love during the Christmas season. My first successful business first opened its doors in December. I was married on Boxing Day. My twin girls, Kate and Samantha (Sam) were born on the first hour of the first Sunday in Advent. And the Yule saw me single once again.
It wasn't much of a divorce; my wife and I had parted amicably and, for the most part, our lawyers carried the ball and by the winter solstice the court issued its final decree. Neither of us got everything we wanted, but we each got enough and we could live with that. By the new year, I'd settled into being an every-other-weekend, two-weeks-in-the-summer and alternate-holidays dad to my twin girls. Not the greatest of parenting gigs, but it kept me in their lives as they grew from cute toddlers to coquettish preteens.
Like most parents, I had assumed that I was on top of everything of import in my girls' lives - I followed them on social media, I knew their friends, their favorite bands, colors, foods and teachers. I was there for every major event in their lives from school plays to soccer matches to birthdays. I prepared for every possible emergency, contingency and catastrophe I could think of. What I hadn't prepared for was my daughters actually growing up.
This Christmas season marked another one of life's odd occasions. My girls were to spend their entire winter holiday with me. Their mother said it was what they'd ask for as their 14th birthday present though I guessed that her willingness to depart from the ridged routine of our parenting schedule was influenced more by her desire take a cruise to Bermuda unencumbered than it was by my daughters' wishes. Regardless of the motivation, I was looking forward to celebrating the Yule with my girls; to once again engage in those old family rituals and to see that innocent joy light their eyes.
I'm not sure if it was the clothes they were wearing when they walked through the door or the particulars of their Christmas wish list that splashed my holiday day-dreams with a harsh dose of reality, but whatever it was had me revamping my plans because, at some time when I wasn't looking, my daughters had started to grow up.
The two young women who walked through my front door were no longer the coltish 13 year olds - who still thought pink hair bows and frilly dresses were cool - that I remembered from last Christmas; no these two beauties had gained curves in areas that were, a mere year ago, flat as a board. Their hair, no longer confined to the ever-present pigtails of their childhood, flowed freely across the back of graceful necks and across tanned shoulders that peaked through the tailored tunics that flowed like water over their pert breasts and clung like silk to the curve of their waists terminating mid-thigh. Their legs - once covered only with knee socks - had transformed into graceful, taut-muscled limbs that begged to be worshiped by more than just the tights that currently hugged them like a second skin. These were not my innocent little girls, these were young women beginning - all too quickly in my opinion - to embrace their pending adulthood.
If their bodies, clothes and carriage weren't enough to convince me that they were on the fast track to adulthood, their Christmas wish list was the final hint. Gone were the requests for cute footie PJs, dolls, ponies, or anything in pink; these had all been cast off in favor of perfume, lingerie and high fashion clothes. These were more an abridged version of the Forever 12 on-line catalog than they were the innocent Christmas wish lists I'd expected. Still, it did make my Christmas shopping easier; a trip to the local Forever 12 outlet with my girls and a high-limit credit card should see my holiday gift buying done in a few hours.
T'was the day before the day before Christmas and all through my car squeals of joy resounded as we pulled into the mall parking lot just outside Forever 12. It had taken me a couple of days to work up the nerve to go clothes shopping with my girls but, a man of my word, we arrived at the mall just as the doors opened and, for the next 8 hours - barring an hour for lunch - we would shop, or more precisely they would shop. I would bank roll, carry, cart and offer the occasional uninformed opinion.
Our day began and ended at Forever 12. Oh, there were stops in other shops but those went by in a blur, their passing marked only with a brief commentary on their place in the fashion hierarchy. I discovered that Forever 12 was the gold standard - nothing was quite as cute as the one in Forever 12, nothing fit quite as well as the one in Forever 12. The color, the scent, the cut, the look was not quite as good as the one in Forever 12. My queries as to the necessity of going anywhere other than Forever 12 were met with "Oh, Daddy" - a phrase I was never sure quite how to translate.
However we got there, 5:00 PM found me, a small mountain of gift-wrapped boxes of clothes, and my credit card in front of Forever 12's cashier. As the counter girl turned to run my card through the machine, I felt a tap on my shoulder - a guy in a Santa suit was standing behind me holding out a cup of coffee.
"Here, you look like you need this." he said.
"Thanks," I replied, taking the cup and draining half of it in one shot. Just the promise of caffeine was enough to pour a little life back into my brain.
"Looks like you're shopped out," he remarked.
"Yeah, one stop at the mall and 8 hours later I've got everything two girls wished Santa would bring them."
"Anything for you in that stack?"
"No, this is just for the kids. My presents arrived via Fed Ex a week ago."
"So, there's nothing left on your wish list?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Now, somewhere in the back of my shopped out mind a few neurons registered the fact that this was something of an odd question - I was 10 the last time I told Santa what I wanted for Christmas - but I found myself responding with "I'd like their innocence." Now, what I meant to say was, what I was sure I'd say was "I'd like to be back when they were innocent," but what came out was "I'd like their innocence." Thankfully the cashier interrupted this rather bizarre conversation by asking me to sign my credit card receipt and by the time I turned around again, Santa was gone.
Christmas morning went as expected: my girls woke me hours earlier than I wished, minutes later than they wanted. Then it was, as was traditional, waffles before presents and the girls showed considerable restraint - actually chewing their food and conversing with me rather than the bolt-and-dash of Christmases past. Presents held little surprise - we all knew what the boxes held - except for a single, large box wrapped in the comics section of an old newspaper, a paper that had printed its last edition on Christmas Eve 14 years ago. The torn bit of cash register receipt taped to the box wished me a Merry Christmas, but gave no indication who the gift was from. My girls denied having anything to do with it and suggested with a few giggles that I must have been on Santa's good list this year.
I opened the box and laughed. Someone at the mall's gift wrap booth had pulled a fast one when wrapping up something my girls had bought. Inside were two pieces of nice costume jewelry (a simple pendant on a light chain) and two sexy Christmas elf costumes. I presented each of my girls with the necklaces and helped them fasten the necklaces around their necks. I than handed out the Christmas elf outfits to squeals of delight rather than the expected "Oh Daddy." At the bottom of the box I found a large legal-sized manila envelope. On the outside, scrawled in black sharpie were the words, "Their innocence, forever." As I turned the envelope over, a document slid out.
It took me a few minutes to read it, a few more minutes to read it a second time, and then a few more minutes for the magnitude of it all to sink in. What I had before me was a court order not only granting me complete physical and legal custody of my daughters, but terminating all of my ex-wife's parental rights. It went on to terminate my child support and alimony payments. The order was dated the 23rd of December.
My contemplation on the enormity of this document was interrupted by my increasing awareness of the deafening silence that was building in the room. I looked up to see my daughters standing before me, dressed in those silly elf costumes - kneeling and quietly waiting, just waiting. There was a sense of something building in the room, an ill-defined tension, a sense of change.
I looked again and revised my opinion; I should not have associated the word "dressed" with those elf costumes. Apart from the hat and the pointy shoes the costumes did not cover so much as emphasize. The tops ended just below their tits and were so shear that it was apparent that my girls were not wearing bras and that their lusciously rounded breasts were crowned by firm erect nipples. What there was of a skirt skimmed over their hips, dipping low enough in the front to erase any doubt as to whether or not my daughters shaved more than just their legs. It ended just scant inches later - low enough to provide only a tantalizing peak of their most private places while still displaying the entirety of their svelte thighs. The fluid that glistened from their inner thighs gave lie to the notion that their erect nipples were due solely to room temperature. These were not my innocent young daughters, these were two females panting with arousal.
I knew that something had to break the tension and I knew that, as the parent, I was the one that had to do it. So, I said it, knowing that as the words left my mouth it was the stupidest thing I could have said. But I said it, knowing that it would change our reality forever. Still I said it knowing that by accepting this gift I would be getting my fondest desire and find myself walking a razor's edge for the next four years. Yet, I went and said it and as the words left my mouth I sensed the tension break, felt it snap through my reality twisting it to meet my unvoiced, unacknowledged desires. I could have said any three words; any words would have broken the tension so why did I say those words? Why did I chose to say "Well blow me." I should have said, I intended to say, "Well blow me down," but that phrase never passed my lips.
Those three simple words brought my daughters to attention. Three words had Kate kneeling between my legs, opening my pants, and freeing my rapidly hardening cock. I watched in amazement as my little girl took my cock gently into her mouth and proceeded to slowly stroke it with her lips and lave it with her tongue. It was a rather inexpert attempt at a blow job, but the sight of my little girl pleasuring me with her mouth while her hands busied themselves in her cunt had me well on the way to a glorious release. Yet it was not Kate's efforts that triggered my release; it was Sam. Seeing that her sister was monopolizing the object of her immediate desire, Sam snuggled down next to me in the chair and proceeded to kiss me. These were not the simple kisses a child gives to a parent, no, these were the long linger kisses, the deep searching kisses of lovers. This second erotic attack was sufficient to push me over the edge and before I could warn her, I was filling Kate's mouth with my cum.
I felt Kate rise from between my knees and, as if by some unspoken signal, Sam turned from me to her sister for a deep soulful kiss. I watched as Kate shared my cum with her sister, watched as a small drop escaped from between their joined lips and fell between Sam's tits, watched as their throats moved, almost in unison, as they swallowed. Then, so as not to waste anything, Kate licked that small drop from between her sister's tits before helping her up from the chair to, once again, stand before me.
I suppose it was the chiming of the mantle clock that kept me from immediately discovering the full nature of the gift I had been given. A single chime was sufficient to remind me that the day was not yet complete; there were relatives to visit and a Christmas dinner to sit through. So I sent the girls off to shower and change, hoping they would pick something demure and a bit more conservative than their typical party clothes. I left them to their own devices and headed to the master suite for a cold shower.
Christmas dinner with the relatives was amazing; my girls' behavior and dress far exceeded even my wildest wishes. They were polite and helpful, and they spoke in complete sentences, sentences that were completely void of the typical youthful punctuation noises. They had dressed in matching black dresses that fell to mid-calf, dresses that lacked slits, failed to bare shoulders, breasts, or back. The dresses flowed across their bodies gently defining them without drawing attention. Silk stockings flowed over their legs and down into simple black leather shoes with flat heels. Their hair was held back from their faces by a simple silk ribbon.
It wasn't until we returned home and I had sent the girls to bed that it occurred to me that my daughters' behavior, deportment, and dress had been entirely in sync with those unspoken wishes I'd had during my shower. Slowly my mind began to see the beginnings of a pattern - slutty wishes got slutty clothes got slutty personalities got slutty behavior, demure wishes got demur clothes got demure personalities got demure behavior. The only question was, was it all a fluke? I continued to muse on the events of the day as I prepared for bed, yet the last thoughts I had before sleep took my weary mind was far more occupied on the promise behind that kiss Sam and I shared in the morning and how welcome she would be in my bed.
In the early hours of the morning I woke to the presence of a nubile body pressing into my chest. My eyes opened to the sight of Sam looking back at me with a gentle smile lighting up her eyes, her right hand slowly drawing my head closer as she move to kiss me. She was dressed in a diaphanous nightgown that flowed across her skin like oil. I gently brushed it from her shoulder and watched as it fell from her body, the single tie that held it closed pulled open by the weight of the garment. We kissed again and soon we were exploring each other's bodies with the intense trepidation of new lovers.
We took turns - she ran her hands over me, tracing the curve of my ribs, the angles of my hips and the contours of my hardening cock. Her lips and tongue followed as she worked her way slowly down my torso until she was lavishing my throbbing erection with her attentions. Like her sister, Sam's first blow job lacked skill or finesse, but that really didn't matter. This was the act of discovery, of worship, of devotion by one new lover to another and I found myself filling her mouth with my cum far sooner than I would have liked. Sam glanced up at me as she swallowed, her eyes sparkling with achievement, satisfied that her tentative efforts had brought me pleasure.
Eager to reciprocate, I began to slowly trace the curve of her tits with a feather-light touch, watching as goosebumps followed in the wake of my fingers, watching as her nipples reddened and stiffened. I listened as her breath quickened. I gently wrapped my lips around each nipple in turn, kissing them, suckling them, feeling them become hard little pebbles and having my efforts rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as I gently nipped them. As my hands moved across her belly I could almost feel the heat radiating from her cunt. I traced random patterns over her inner thighs, across and around her stiff clit, watching as she arched her back, striving to entice my fingers to stay longer, to bring about the release she instinctively desired.
As I bent down and drew my tongue over her clit, she went rigid, as if any motion on her part would cause me to stop. How little did she know; a single taste of the nectar that was flowing from her pussy was not going to satisfy my desire. I began to drink from that fountain between her legs, sucking and licking her clit, teasing her cunt with my lips and tongue. A kiss here, a nip there, a lick, a caress, a touch all to the rhythm of her breathing. Quickening into a staccato as she began to pant with arousal until she reached that wonderful crescendo, her hands pulling me to her cunt, her back arching, moaning in pleasure all before collapsing back on to the bed.
I let her rest for a bit, let her enjoy that endorphin rush for a brief moment or two before beginning again only to stop short of her release. She looked at me questioningly as I positioned myself between her thighs and moved to place my cock at the entrance of her cunt, barely splitting her lips with its bulbous head. Then, before she could object, I thrust forward, burying the full length of my cock in one single motion. She gasped at my invasion but did not move away. We stayed like that for a brief moment as the realization that I had claimed her innocence for myself – that I now owned a part of her forever – dawned. Sam wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down to her and kissed me. At that moment I knew that she was mine forever. I began to slowly fuck her, long slow strokes. Soon she began to match my rhythm and we began to increase our pace, cuing off each other's need, matching the other's arousal until we both found release, her cunt spasming along the length of my shaft as I filled her womb with my seed.
I pulled my cock from her pussy and watched as a trickle of cum followed, dripping down to stain the sheet below her ass a delicate pink. I laid down beside her and pulled her close. Our lust spent, we slept.
I woke before Sam and so as not to wake her, carefully removed myself from my bed. I performed my morning ablutions as a myriad of thoughts crossed my mind. It was becoming apparent that this gift, this new found power, was quite real and my first order of business should be to give some thought to birth control. The thought of my two girls pregnant and naked briefly crossed my mind and was, just as quickly, set aside. However erotic I might find that sight, colicky infants were definitely not on my want list. I thought about how demure and passive Sam had been during our love making last night and wondered what it would be like if she were a bit more aggressive in bed. I thought about how pleasant it would be to go down to the kitchen and find Kate busy making breakfast and to bend her over the kitchen table and fuck her silly. The memory of her kneeling before me in that slutty elf costume was enough to bring my cock erect and cause visions of dominating her, taking her roughly without a care to anything other than my pleasure dance through my head.
As I returned to my bedroom, I found Sam awake and sitting up, the sheets pushed to one side and the morning sun caressing her naked body. I walked over, kissed her, and let myself be drawn back down to the bed. This time, there was little in the way of foreplay. Sam was dripping with need and, as I laid back down on the bed, pushed me onto my back and straddled my hips. She drove herself down onto my hard cock and began to fuck me with some urgency; she reached her first climax almost before my brain had caught up to the idea that we were fucking. She had her second as I began to meet her pace with my own thrusting, and her third was met with my own and with it she moaned her pleasure, "Ohhhh, Daddy."
Sam collapsed onto my chest as the tremors of her orgasm raced through her body. She stayed quivering with joy until the call of nature became too much and she raced off to the bathroom. I rose, threw on a robe and went downstairs to find Kate dressed in that silly slutty elf costume, busily making cinnamon rolls.
The sight of her in the kitchen, thighs gleaming with her fluids, flour dusting her cheeks, her face flushed with arousal shouldn't have surprised me - after all, it was as I had wished it; it had come true just like all my other desires had since Christmas morning - but it did. She was standing there with her back to me, her hair tied up in a pony tail, her ass cheeks, just visible under the hem of her skirt, swayed back and forth as she stirred the batter. I watched her for a bit, my dick hardening with each twitch of that luscious ass. I loosed the tie of my robe and walked up to her quietly.
In one motion, I grabbed her by her hair and turned her head toward me. I kissed her roughly before turning around and half walked, half dragged her over to the kitchen table. I bent her face down over the edge of the table and held her there with one hand. I used the other to guide my dick into her dripping pussy. I thrust slowly into her, felt the heat of the cunt warm my shaft, felt that slight resistance as I tore through her cherry, heard her gasp of pain. I thrust again, harder; burying myself in her until the head of my cock met her cervix. I thrust again and again, marveling at the tightness of her cunt, reveling in her moans. I continued this rhythmic assault on her dripping pussy until I felt the beginnings of my release start to stir in my balls.
I pulled my cock from her hot, clenching cunt to the sounds of her begging me not to stop, to let her cum. I moved back and placed my cock against her small pink rosebud and pushed. Her begging turned to wails as my dick invaded her ass. She twisted and turned, trying to escape her impalement, but her attempts did little more than make me harder and drive her body back into my thrusting hips. Soon, her wails began to change as my little Christmas slut began to enjoy herself and she started to match my rhythm as I slowly fucked her ass. Our combined efforts brought about my climax in short order and, as I filled her bowels with my hot cum, Kate's climax hit her and she screamed her pleasure to the world. I pulled my softening cock from her ass and left her to finish cooking breakfast, a trickle of my cum dripping from her ass and a tickle of pink flowing from her cunt - the two fluids smearing across her inner thighs.
After breakfast, I left my girls to their own devices - sparing only a little thought on how I'd like to see them dressed in something cute and flattering - and headed over to the only place I might get some answers: Forever 12.
