A Christmas Tail Part 1 is HERE...
A Christmas Tail Part 2 is HERE...
Lisa made an underhand grab for Santa's wedding tackle. "Hmmm," she said, "Santa so naughty, and me so NICE!" Again that crooked grin. "Christmas gifts from Santa make me naughty though."
Santa reached into his backpack and brought out a medium-size bar of Toblerone. Lisa wrapped her skeletal fingers (oooh, she was pushing ALL his turn-on-Santa buttons without knowing it) around the Eurochocbar, pressed a sparkly nail tip into the indentation between the joined chocotriangular-bits, gave him a look that sent full-metal jacketed FUCKMEYOUBASTARD lightning-bolts echoing around Santa's skull and placed the wrapped bar against her panties and rubbed it up and down.
Parted her lips. An erotic moan from the depths of heaven or the heights of hell (Santa knew nor cared not which) emanated from her luscious throat, lined, imagined the North Polian, with soft folds of pulsating flesh-velvet.
Lisa's face reassembled into a blasé visage. She tossed the confectionery precisely onto her shelf. "What else you got, SANta?"
Santa reached into his backpack again and pulled out a lump of black stuff in a clear plastic wrapper.
Lisa gasped. "
Arai na?!? You give me coal-lump? Have boyfriend...my SISTER have boyfriend Switterland, he say coal-lump gift mean bad thing! Maybe you have black heart like this, Santa!"
"No no Lisa, this is Chinese licorice. They sell it in Bangkok Chinatown!" Santa hoped either there WAS a Bangkok Chinatown, or she didn't know there wasn't one.
Lisa leaned forward and sniffed the licorice...and laughed delightedly. As she leaned forward her luscious melons puffed against the restraining tit-sling...what WAS it about breasts that drove guys nuts anyway? Santa knew they were essentially adipose tissue positioned in the upper torso of adult females, that short-circuited his brain. Santa Junior, rebelling against the confines of Santa's tighty-whities, growled like that kid who had demanded an "Apple xWii box and ALL the games." Junior was sending urgent pulsing messages to Santa's upper-brain suggesting that he belonged between those mammary mounds, with a light dressing of baby oil and a whole lotta frisson.
"My...COUSIN have boyfriend, he Chinese, he bring me this to try."
"I see."
Lisa tossed the licorice lump next to the Toblerone. "What else Santa have in bag? Any KFC?"
It was Santa's turn to grin. He'd once spent a few months in Thailand, and bought pricey Japanese vibrators made of flesh-like gel, in cute and amusing shapes. The Thai gals weren't interested. One said, "better vibrator hard, like THIS," rapping her knuckles on his coffee table. On a visit to Hong Kong, he went to the Temple Street market and bought a cheap hard-plastic vibrator. Size of a flashlight, ran on two C-cell batteries. The girls went batshit.
Santa pulled out a brand new one. "You like?"
Her eyeballs bulged. "Make...Lisa...CRAZY!" She leapt UP on him, seizing the vibrator with her upper-thighs as she wrapped her arms around and grabbed his tongue with her lips. They made out like overcaffeinated ferrets, until Santa Junior was in danger of inadvertently flipping the vibe-switch to ON.
Santa disengaged and set Lisa down. She held up the vibrator and he held up his hand: not YET.
"OK, you good-heart guy, $500 Hong Kong dolLAR I rock your world."
He reached into his pocket, past an insistent Junior, and pulled out his smartphone. Turning it on, he showed her the Photoshopped pictures of her and the listed price: HK$380. "Sorry Lisa, you are a precious jewel, a thousand kingdoms of treasure are not enough, but I had to break that fiver for dinner."
That skewed grin slayed him again. "OK, even Santa has to eat. AND you have nice gifts so Lisa happy to be naughty for you."
She turned toward the security monitor, a few stray pink-lit bros appeared in fuzzy quadritypch, she quick-opened the door, flipped the sign to "Please Wait" and closed the door.
Back on him quick as a jungle cat, "you big boy Santa, you handle Lisa, I make the tiger with you." The sheer teddy disappeared as if by magic, and she draped a red towel over her shoulders and reached for the bra's front-catch. "You ready?"
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Santa literally took a step back and puffed out a Keanu Reeves-like "Whoa..." There were tits and then there were TitsOMG
Tits.
Lisa tittered. "Yes, I see man shock like this before. Too bad Switterland man have wife. He have enough euRO, could play with these all day."
Santa suddenly understood the meaning of his life in the macro context of Hong Kong, Xmas and the wider world. This made up for all the crummy presents he'd ever gotten, the Xmas when his high-school sweetie dumped him, even the day his mother told him there really wasn't a Santa Claus, Father Christmas or anyone like that. This was a real life sex-elf, as charged as the batteries in that vibrator she now idly smacked against her palm. He needed to spontaneously create a poem that would address all these deep thoughts, but all that came out was a croaky: "Shower!"
Seventy-nine seconds later they were naked in the tiny shower cubicle, Lisa stroking his cock with one hand while she adjusted the water temperature with the other. Santa kept staring at her tits--they were perfect, no they weren't, nothing could be PERFECT, but every imperfection just made them...more perfect.
That way led madness, so Santa bent down and gently took a nipple into his mouth, earning a throaty "mmmm" from Lisa. Her musky scent, animalistic and gentle, nestled into his nostrils and snaked up into his brain. The nipple stiffened under his ministrations.
Warm water and a soapy hand on his cock, which could not possibly be harder. She moaned louder as she stroked it. Soaped his balls, chest and did a quick up-and-down over his front, then twirled her finger. She pumped out more fragrance-free soap and slathered his back, and backside. She rinsed both sides clean and sent him out towards the stack of towels. He almost bumped Junior on the way out.
He toweled off fast in front of the space-heater. Strategy, Santa...he thought. If you feel you're gonna cum too soon, distract her with the vibrator, that's it! He snatched the fun-cylinder and stashed it back in his pack. She'd have to ask...nicely. Santa had played this game before, and knew he had to walk a thin line between holding back the goodies and letting her have them.
She stepped out and walked slowly by the bed rubbing the red towel over her naked body. Santa could not believe the muffinbutt on this strumpet. You could bounce Hong Kong dollar-coins off that abdomen. She whipped her hair at him and smiled as micro-droplets hit the tent-poled towel under which Santa Junior, who'd promoted himself to General, now barked orders only Santa could hear.
Lisa tossed the towel and dripped a small amount of baby oil between those OMG jubblies. She whisked off Santa's towel and crept onto the bed on all fours, her brown eyes locked into his, all voodoo big-cat-magick, tapping into the root of human sexuality, right back to the pagan gods worshipped in the festival against cold & dark later co-opted by a organized religious group...which had paradoxically granted Santa the funds for this particular carnal exercise. Her breasts brushed the General, who stirred and positively whimpered with lust.
Squeezing her perfect breasts together, she enveloped his tumescent tingtong and stroked slowly, up and down, eye-locked. Looked down. Slid her tongue out on a downstroke and licked the head. Looked back. Sweetness of torture, he thought, but not for long as Lisa increased the pace and started to groan, flicking her eyes to his cock, back to his eyes, back, forth, up, down...it was the best Xmas ever.
Until, without a microsecond of warning, the door burst open with the fury of a Typhoon Signal Ten.
To be continued...
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Last edited by JackTheBat at 12-12-2011 23:34 ]
