Santa was like other men. He had a wife. He was sedated by the comforts his life afforded him and he was focused enough for many decades to not be distracted by any of the women waiting for him to show up at their houses on Christmas Eve. Some women wore nothing. Others had been priming themselves for his quick visit with their vibrators they'd fallen asleep with, and missed his coming and going. Others laid traps for him hoping to screw his brains out, but were unsuccessful.
Mrs. Claus, like other wives, knew a lot about her husband she didn't tell him. She feed him a lot of food and let him sit a lot when he was not working. So, for months into years he slowly got fat and unable to have comfortable sex without her. Quickies are fast and quick; sex, in and out and gone! But his waistline required work, and positioning and with the tight schedules he had around Christmas time he gave up the idea of getting some side pussy, and focused on his work.
But, one day it was cold, and bitterly so. There was a strong wind storm that had it been summer would have been called a tornedo. The house he was placing gifts under the tree for was quiet. Not even a mouse stirred. There was a minty scent in the air with a fragrance of some sort of combination of coffee and toast. He knew there were children somewhere sleeping upstairs, and the kitchen was dark. But, when he was finished he glanced at the windows and couldn't see outside. He looked up the chimney and the moonlight couldn't be seen. There were blankets of snow covering everything and the wind was harsh. He wondered aloud how his animals were doing. But, this was their weather. They'd be OK. So he looked around the room and sat in a comfortable red chair and began thumbing through a magazine or two. Settled into the environment he dozed off.
"Wake up!"
He felt the call more than anything else. It seemed to reach down into his loins. He tried to jump up when his eyes popped open, but the small woman straddling him had strength in her thighs, compulsion between her legs, and her center of gravity was focused. He couldn't get up at all. He tried once, or twice, but desire for her weakened him as he studied her body barely concealed beneath sheer white cloth. Dark pubic hair, a tantalizing fragrance from that hair, and a tingling sensation he couldn't distinguish from her desire or his arousal. Tantalizing and unbelievably gorgeous to the eye, inconceivable to the imagination, and glorious on her way to his spirit she was a presentation of what was comfortable to settle into, and be comforted by.
He was done. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
(Dec. 1, 2016)
Tantalizing and unbelievably gorgeous to the eye, inconceivable to the imagination, and glorious in her way to the spirit of a man she was a presentation of what was comfortable to settle into, and be comforted by.
