In Santa’s Lap
An Erotic Christmas Story
He was finally done for the day. She watched from a distance as the final shoppers were herded back out through the shopping mall doors, into the dim evening light of the frosty high street. Her heart thumped in her chest – she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. She never had a hope of resisting. Dizzy with excitement, her eyes eagerly sought him out once again. The legendary older man in his white trimmed, plush red velvet suit was still sat in his grand chair, no doubt tired from the afternoon crowds.
Over the past couple of weeks since her office had closed for Christmas, she’d come to this same shopping mall. At first because it had the best value shops for Christmas shopping, then as time went on, because of Santa. Well, she knew he wasn’t really Santa Claus, but he was closer to her imaginings of him than any other man she’d ever seen. Without even realising it, she’d found herself noticing which afternoons he was there, then perching on a nearby bench or by the fountain with a coffee and a magazine. Sneaking looks, and swallowing her lust.
Excitement had overcome fear, and now here she was. Closing time Saturday afternoon, Christmas Eve eve, waiting to pounce like a big cat in the long grass. Time to make her move; now or never. He wouldn’t be there for long now the main doors were being locked. The cleaners had moved to the upstairs level, it was just the two of them down here now. Her and Santa.
Wondering just how –and, to be honest, why– her legs were carrying her, she made her way self-consciously over to Santa. Dreading and welcoming it all at once, it finally happened – their eyes met. Hers, she felt sure, shining with excitement and nervous terror; his friendly but questioning.
“Good evening Miss. I’m afraid we’re all done for the day, if you wanted a chat with Santa…
…hey, you look a little lost. You OK?”
With a flush of embarrassment, she realised she’d stopped stock-still in front of the red-carpeted steps before his gilt chair the moment he addressed her. And she was now staring at him, at his magical twinkly-eyed, wrinkled brow elderly Santa-face, with what was certain to be a wide-eyed, giddy smile.
“Um, *cough* yes, I’m fine, thank you. Yes, I was just… er, I wondered…”
He flashed her a grin from beneath his trademark whiskers.
“I’ve noticed you sitting over there on the bench over these past few weeks, young lady. You been spying on Santa?”
Her mind went totally blank. He’d noticed? Damn. She thought she’d been quite discreet.
He let out a throaty chortle, then he beckoned her up the steps with a white gloved hand and a welcoming smile.
“Come. Sit on Santa’s lap. A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t look so frightened. Come tell Santa all your worries and we’ll see what we can do.”
Entranced, she reached out to take the hand he offered. It was like the final click in the combination. All her worries seemed to dissolve in that instant, her real-world defences falling away. Smiling up at him with the courage gained from his touch, she walked up the scarlet steps to Santa’s platform as if each one transported her deeper into a different, magical world.
Santa sat back into the chair with a grunt as she reached the space in front of him, his heavy black boots to each side of her legs. He took her other hand in his, grasping both her small fists in his giant, warm ones, and looked at her in sudden serious consideration.
“Right then Miss. You’re safe here with Santa now. What would you like?”
She knew the answer to that one. From the wicked glint in Santa’s eye, she could tell he was mulling over similar thoughts, a million miles away from his pure and virtuous image.
“Please Santa… May I… sit on your lap?”
“Hmm. Yes, I think I’d like that very much young lady.
Watch you don’t snag your tights on Santa’s boots… there we are…”
He helped her position herself on his lap, her bottom over his crotch and her stocking-clad legs dangling over one of his. Her skirt had ridden up somewhat obscenely during her climb, rendering her rather more slutty than the ‘virginal young lady meeting Santa’ scene she’d often dreamed about.
Santa’s breath came hot and rapid by her ear. It became clear that talking from this point onwards was, quite frankly, surplus to requirements. She felt a definite stirring from beneath her bottom; the sight of her exposed thighs, her quivers of excitement and the risk of being caught obviously having a dramatic effect on him.
This was her masturbatory scene come to life, and it was doing a number on her, too. Between her legs, at the apex of her thighs, was fast becoming a slippery mess. She felt her lust seeping from her, threatening to leave a puddle on Santa’s lap. She didn’t dare imagine what sort of punishment there’d be for such naughtiness, but just knowing for certain that there’d be one was teasing enough.
“You know your trouble young lady? You’re extremely good…
…he broke off for a small moan as he felt beneath her and adjusted his still-growing erection,
“… at being very, very naughty.”
She melted. Well, at least part of her did. The thought that she’d just leaked her excited lust all over Santa’s lap just made her leak even more.
They reached down together, her to pull aside her sodden knickers and Santa to free his engorged cock. Hard as candy cane and twice as sweet, she thought to herself, licking her lips.
Would she taste it? No, not yet. Not right now. She wanted so desperately to feel it inside her, to feel Santa filling her with his magical warmth.
The eager anticipation was shared. No sooner had Santa freed his straining dick that he was reaching for her, his whiskered lips growling praise, kinky threats and promises into her ear while his fingers worked beneath her skirt. Lifting her up, opening her up entirely, positioning himself under her. Trousers yanked down to free merely the important part of him, the rest still concealed by his lush uniform.
Heat radiated from his cock which had slumbered all day, to roar into life at her unexpected beckoning. She felt the presence of it even before the first touch of Santa-flesh to her swollen labia, then gasped back a cry of pure delight as he nestled his tip into her tight, wet entrance.
Leaning forwards to allow him full access with his cock also gave him a fleeting view of her from behind, and she heard him groan aloud at the sight. Gripping her arms with what was surely an aching need right from the bottom of his bulging sac, he slammed her down on to his throbbing rod. Driving his cock home masterfully, he gave this girl exactly what she wanted for Christmas.
*** *** ***
“Ma’am! Ma’am? I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now, we’re closing.”
With a sigh she drained the last of her coffee, left her raunchy reverie, and joined the merry crowd of shoppers filling the festively-lit high street. It was Christmas Eve tomorrow; she supposed she should actually start her Christmas shopping.
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