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It was two weeks before Christmas once again, and Santa Claus awoke in his fluffy bed to discover that he hated Christmas. He was tired of spoiled little brats and their presents, reindeer, chimneys, and stale chocolate chip cookies and lukewarm milk. It was the middle of the night, and not a creature was heard, except for the light snoring of Mrs. Claus beside him. Her generous bosom heaved rhythmically, her rosy mouth agape and inviting. Santa rolled over, his candy cane gently poking Mrs. Claus in her hefty backside. It had been ages since Santa had gotten any, and he had a feeling that his disgust with spreading joy to others stemmed from his own lack of satisfaction. Why should he want to make other people happy, when he had to resort to elf and reindeer fantasies to get off?

Mrs. Claus didn’t respond, but only snorted and rolled over, as she had hundreds of times before. Santa had had enough. Frigid old bitch, Santa thought angrily. Fuck the children of the world, and fuck spreading joy. Santa knew exactly what he wanted to spread.

Christmas Eve arrived quickly with the usual excitement and flurry of activity. Santa went about the usual routine of preparing, loading, and directing the little elfin bastards that Santa had grown to detest so much. His sled took flight as it had hundreds of times before, and Santa beamed with mischief. Behind his jolly face, Santa compiled his Christmas list: perfect mouth, perfect tits, and a perfect ass. Nice? Definitely not. I want a naughty little bitch, Santa decided.

Finally, after thousands of houses, there she was. She was stretched out on the couch in her living room, her kids asleep, and her husband nowhere to be found. Santa stepped over the remnants of the fire she built for herself, which had faded to glowing embers. He observed her as she laid with her silken legs carelessly spread and her hand resting on her thigh. Her face was as perfect as a porcelain doll, and Santa could see that she had a tight, curvy little body underneath the flannel that she wore. The anticipation alone had given Santa a raging erection.

Santa quietly approached the sleeping woman, shaking with excitement. He kneeled before her and slipped his warm hand under her nightgown. She moaned quietly, and arched her back as Santa caressed her hardening nipple. Slowly, Santa caressed her exposed thigh, first with his land, and then with his tongue. The woman purred, and then uttered something unintelligible. Good, she was dreaming. His hand moved upward to gleefully discover that she was completely naked under her flannel nightshirt. Santa chuckled. Legs spread and no panties, you little bitch? Just as I thought: you HAVE been naughty. His callused fingers caressed her soft pubic hair. He slowly opened her sex and reveled at its pink wetness. He wondered if her own hands had been doing the identical thing before him; she must have surely been alone and horny on the couch. Santa lifted the woman’s limp body from the couch and placed her on the floor. He then unzipped his red velvet pants.

Over the tip of his glistening, swollen cock, Santa admired the scene before him. The white lights and elaborate ornaments sparkled. The fire cast a beautiful glow on the sleeping woman’s smiling face. His anger toward the world softened, but his rigid dick still throbbed with lust for the beautiful creature whose legs were invitingly spread on the living room rug. He wouldn’t just invade her pussy and leave, though. Santa’s desire to give overwhelmed him, and he longed to satisfy the lonely woman the way that her fingers could not.

Santa kneeled pressed his mouth to her defenseless pussy. She moaned again. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked her engorged folds, and she whimpered desperately. It didn’t take long before her entire body shuddered and rocked with delight, and the nameless woman awoke with a final spasm. Santa was sure that she would be terrified and prepared for the worst, but instead the woman grinned mischievously and gazed at Santa’s massive hard-on through her sleepy eyelids. Had she known the whole time that he was there? Santa smiled knowingly at her and silently plunged his quivering cock in her waiting, eager cunt. As they rocked together, Santa felt all of his anger and frustration melt away. With each enthusiastic thrust, he felt his Christmas spirit returning. He was in love with all mankind again, finally. Screw fruitcake; Santa just needed a good piece of ass for Christmas.
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