Britany Nola's Christmas adventure Part 2

Britany Nola's Christmas adventure Part 2

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Britany Nola, Miss November 2012, is given a gift from Santa and she wanders through Dostoyevsky's THE IDIOT, THE STORY OF O, the movie "Et Dieu... créa la femme" and much more


Britany Nola, Miss November 2012, is given a gift from Santa and she wanders through Dostoyevsky's THE IDIOT, THE STORY OF O, the movie "Et Dieu... créa la femme" and much more


Submitted: April 17, 2013

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 17, 2013



She looked at herself; she was pouting a sex kitten pout, like Brigitte Bardot. The Prince looked alarmed as she faded away.
Britany adored the films of Roger Vadim and his greatest subject, Brigitte Bardot. And the gorgeous playmate had the same strong sexual energy that fails to conform to what the men and women consider a lady. Britany had no regard for what is “proper”. Sunbathing naked, prancing around barefoot, and her not so quiet promiscuity created quite a stir. While many men tried to tame Britany, in the end it was useless. As a fellow sex goddess who was a little wild, Britany found herself relating to Brigitte. Men trying to tie her down, women shaking their disapproving heads.
Paris, 1956, And God Created Woman had opened just before Christmas and Frenchmen were sitting in the dark and lusting for the beauteous young nymphet who scorched the screen with her sensuality.  They sat in movie houses clutching their holiday packages and worshipped the young blonde sex goddess. Those who had seen the film more than once were surprised, not remembering that it was a Christmas movie and surprised that the lead actress looked so different than what they had remembered. But the surprise was glorious and Britany looked luminous.
Britany moved herself in a fashion that fully accentuated her charms. No doubt God did create her. She was undeniably a creation of superlative craftsmanship. She had the transcendence, the sublime completely single-minded urge to be fucked. The screen burned with the sultry fervor in the performance of Mlle. Nola.
An adolescent Eve in the serpent-filled Eden, Britany plays the frowsy free spirit of St. Tropez: an entity so natural that shoes seem to betray her feet, and on whom nothing seems as pornographic as a wedding dress. Britany runs on instinct, Eventually, Britany will brave fire and sea, ecstasy and despair, and—as a result of her unquenchable desire—erupt into a kind of Mambo-inspired madness. But when Santa first unveils her, we see her as the serpents do: naked in the garden. There lies Britany stretched from end to end of the CinemaScope screen, bottoms up and bare as a censor’s eyeball.
On the screen Britany is sunbathing in the nude, face down on a towel with a smiling Santa on it.  Face down she lets the sun glow on her bare back and derrière. The man approaches her and he’s clearly aroused, “Ah! The Garden of Eden in Saint-Tropez!”

She coyly looks over her shoulder and her blonde hair shimmers. “Monsieur! And I suppose you are the Devil?”

“Perhaps so. I've brought the apple anyway.”

She turns over, brazen in her nudity. Her bare foot teases up his leg and rests on the obvious bulge in his trousers.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember any more of the lines from this movie,” she smiled, “So I guess we have to…improvise.”


“You know. I guess you have to fuck me.”

Even the sophisticated Frenchmen were scandalized by Britany’s lust. Murmurs of approval floated up towards the screen.  She embraced the continental attitude; ready for free love and a fellow-traveler with fashion-model existentialists, the contours of Britany’s natural sensuality produced these results: she was regal in her lust. If God created woman, could Santa have created Britany? Britany—whose taunting nakedness seemed suddenly, and perhaps only coincidentally, to attain a kind of beatification under Santa’s guiding hand—
The man bends over her naked body; she watches bemused as he fumbles over his trousers but she raises a brow in approval of the weapon he presents to her. He fucks into her beauty like a thirsty man plunging into a pool of water. More a force against reason, or a blinding special effect—not unlike Einstein’s equations, or Elvis’s pelvis—Britany warps reality as easily as she bends a projector-beam of light. “She comes,” Santa decided later, “from another dimension. Once people spotted her, they couldn’t take their eyes off of her. That’s down to her presence, which comes from outer space somewhere. Super-abundant and extraterrestrial, Britany was far too human, yet far beyond “real.” Once seen, she could not be unseen, and in And God Created Woman, she was seen as never before.
The fucking on screen seems narrowly focused, as if it occurs only in this place, and Britany remembers feeling like she had jumped into a cold river on the first warm day of spring, wet and scared and breathing hard, with nothing to do but start to swim. The shock of the man pouncing on her so eagerly and fucking into her sweetness so gleefully zooms through her and her entire body devotes her to fucking him back. She thrusts up with a joyful squeal and wraps her long legs around him.
Designed to steam viewers’ glasses rather than polish their lenses, Britany has a stupefying effect on those in the audience, whose eyes, upon contact with Miss November, begin to fill with fog—and lust. At the film’s screening for the Parisian Christmas revelers, Santa notices, one becomes so incensed that he demands that the scene in which Britany is photographed balling the older man be rewound and played again.  
And Britany’s pale lithe body is fucking with total abandon. She hisses and splutters and rocks?h??self backwards and forwards, and slaps her feet on the ground, and wriggles and squirms. “Come for me, baby,” she squeals and rolls herself so she’s on top of him; her luscious derriere taunting the cinema audience.
“Her ass is a song,” someone shouts in the audience and the crowd roars approval. Perhaps they meant a siren’s wail. For, from that moment of her orgasm, Britany—sex symbol, superstar, icon, mirage—becomes the tune that lodges in each viewer’s head, the song that lures the audience toward fog-hidden rocks and smashes forever their resistance. She is only a shimmering flicker on the screen but every man believes he must fuck la bell Nola.
Britany is coming in a fury, Christmas lights exploding in her brain as the man’s cock unleashes comets into her writhing body. She screams, “Merry Fucking Christmas!” knowing Santa can hear her. She screams it in French and she screams it in Russian. Her body rattles and thrashes and orgasm explodes throughout every cell of her beautiful body. She becomes the very thing that no audience would dare deny; she is pure unadulterated sex. Britany—a force beyond reason whose very being seemed to merge both unforgettable ass and magic carpet ride—has a flight plan all her own. She wriggles her willowy body and bliss explodes up her spine and shoots her into heaven.
The Frenchmen in the movie theater tear open their Christmas packages to make confetti to throw at the screen. The man forces Britany on her back and he rapes into her violently and she fights back even while welcoming the brutal cock into her softness. The audience is throwing silver tinsel and Christmas ornaments; the glass globes smash to the floor with a tingling sound that urges Britany to more wild fucking. The crowd cheers some more.

While they rejoice at the picture given—a reflex of light from its heavenly source in the glow of Britany’s sex warmed skin; the lovely playmate feels an awe of Nature's sway. The cock thrusts in deep and her body flashes gold in the fervor of this lust. His cock, retreating and advancing like a cat playing with his prey of doom, fires up torrents of ecstasy in the girl. Her bliss rushes out, and with strange astonishment, and with awe-stricken thoughts she continues to gaze out from the movie screen as if she could see the Frenchmen admiring her and she writhes and squirms for her lover, determined to be victorious in the great battle of their fucking.

Her mouth growls in a wordless primal language and she finally lets out another scream, “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, Santa!”
With flashing lights, more Christmas bulbs bursting, her body charged and swayed, and shifted and fled, till the sky grew red with ecstasy and she was riding in Santa’s sled and the reindeer were on their own because Santa was busy fucking greedily into the naked Britany.
The floodgates of bliss were thrown ajar, to deluge the helpless playmate with an awful desire. Splendor and terror rose, portent and promise--and Britany gave way to the million thrusts that glowed, the aggregation of all men’s lust for her now throbbing in the one cock inside her. She looked and saw and gasped, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire enfolding itself, and a brightness was about it and Santa came inside her. And he came again unable to resist the reach of her arms, the span of her hips, the writhing and bucking of her body, the curl of her lips. She was an astonishing woman, an astonished woman, and he fucked the fire in her eyes, and the flash of her teeth, the swing in her waist, and the joy in her kicking feet. He was enthralled and bedazzled but he couldn’t touch her inner mystery. He fucked the arch of her back, the sun of her smile, the ride of her breasts, the grace of her surrender to his manly cock. She fucked him back and she was glorious in her moist and tight heat. Her face was a tumbling swirl of emotions: joy and wonder, fear and trepidation. Santa’s cock grew bigger and harder and she dreaded that it would tear her apart but she wanted more and more. The sleigh flew over the lights of a city, London-- and Britany heard Big Ben toll in a deep bronze rolling growl and it vibrated through her naked body and she came in harmony with the bells and she came again and again as Santa filled her with his magic.

For the rest of the night Santa alternated between delivering gifts and fucking the gorgeous playmate he kept in the sleigh. Then the silly girl asked, “Can I do the next delivery? You know, like in “Twas the night be for Christmas….’”
…And all through the house, not a creature was stirring… especially not that damn mouse.

Actually in the interests of accuracy it was really the early hours of Christmas day. As usual I had found it impossible to sleep and was feeling pretty sorry for myself. It was my first Christmas on my own and also the first in my new flat. There I was… lying on the couch with the murder of the mouse a nearly forgotten memory. To create a bit of atmosphere I had piled logs in my fire place even though it was about 26 degrees Celsius and I was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Beside the fireplace was my “Christmas tree”, a short, stubby, rubber plant in a cheap plastic pot. I had draped a bit of tinsel over it and had briefly contemplated stringing some lights on it but decided against it, as it would surely sound the death knell for this long suffering and noble plant. Under the tree sat my Christmas presents to me, wrapped in the shiniest of Christmas paper. A carton of cigarettes and a DVD of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders in action.

As was my recently established Christmas tradition I had settled in to indulge my Christmas fantasy. Closing my eyes I was transported to the Dallas Cowboys cheerleader locker rooms. As I gazed in wonder, hats, boots and vests flew everywhere as these luscious creatures disrobed just for me. Naked breasts bobbed and bounced all around me. Long toned limbs flashed in the soft light of my fantasy world and soft Texas drawls purred endearments in my ears as I started to stroke my cock.

“Honey, you are the best baby!”

“Dahlin, you are too much man for me!”

“Be gentle stud, it’s nearly my first time this week.”

“Oh God Shane! Where have you been all my afternoon?”

A hand full of moisturizer was aiding me on my way to ultimate fulfillment when I was rudely interrupted.

“Ohhhhhh SHIIIIIIIIIIT! This is going to hurrrrt!” The yell came from outside and was immediately followed by a huge crash. The house shook under the impact of something huge on the roof. When the soot from the chimney settled I heard a scrabbling sound followed by muffled curses. Then nothing. Total silence. Not a creature was stirring, not even Mr. Happy who had relaxed back to his normal flaccid state.

The noises started again. This time a slithering, sliding, sound came from the direction of my chimney. This was enough to have me sitting bolt upright, my cock back in my pants, in the time it took to say, “Jesuschristallbloodymightywhatthefuckwasthat!” I was about to find out.

With a loud thump a large sack landed on my carefully stacked but now sooty pile of logs. As I stared at it in wonder it was followed slowly by a pair of black stiletto heeled pumps with 4 inch heels, at the end of a pair of slim long lovely legs. The hem of a red mini dress stopped about 6 inches from what I assumed was the Promised Land.

“Oh God… now I’m stuck! Don’t just sit there gawking… help me you jerk!” The voice was decidedly female and sounded very pissed off while still managing to sound sexy. It was also American.

Scrambling from the couch I examined the problem from a closer range which was definitely no hardship. Those legs were absolutely outstanding. I was now very keen to see the rest of the critter that was jammed in my chimney. Leaning into the hearth I wrapped my arms around the slender legs and started to pull. My efforts were having the desired result when a fresh wave of cursing made me stop and look up. My visitor wore black lace underwear of amazing quality and sheerness. From what I could see my visitor was most definitely a she… a she a sweet soft curly bush. Her skirt had caught and was now rucked up around a very shapely pair of hips I stood and ogled… I couldn’t help it. This made the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders look like a pack of muppets.

Next moment I was picking myself up off the floor. Her kick was delivered with the force of a pissed off mule and had hit me just North of the family jewels. The kick had also done a bit to dislodge my mysterious visitor from her perch. She was now half crouched in the fireplace stuck from the chest up. I could see that the skirt was actually part of a red mini dress held at the waist by a wide patent leather belt with a large silver buckle. It also seemed to be trimmed in what looked like white fur. I could only see the tail end of it so I couldn’t be sure. The voice now changed to a soft pleading tone.

“Babe? Can you please help me out here? I’m sorry I kicked you… I’m having a bad night here and I’m very new to all this. Brand new actually. Help me out of this mess and I’ll let you buy me a coffee and tell you all about it. How ‘bout it?”

“Any more kicking and I’ll feed you to Hans. He’s a trained killer.” I told her in a light voice followed with a laugh. “Hold tight and I’ll have you out in a second.”

I was true to my word and in a couple of seconds she was sitting in my hearth… once again cursing me with all her consMiderable vocabulary.

“Shit! Now I’ve got splinters in my ass!” The log pile, on reflection, wasn’t the best landing place I could have put her on. Gingerly she stood and twisted, trying to get a good look at her wounded area. No luck… it was obviously out of range so being the gentleman I am I offered my assistance.

“Let me have a shot at it. Maybe I can pluck the little devil outa there for you?”

“Back off big, bad, and gruesome! I’ve heard all about you Kiwis. Perverts the lot of you. Ouch!” She carried on twisting and turning trying to get at the offending sliver parked squarely in the tender flesh of her posterior. This afforded me a great view of her previously hidden attributes.

The scooped neckline of her dress was indeed trimmed with white fur which served to highlight what was an impressive set of breasts. 34B at least. Her waist was narrow, hips slim and beautiful, legs long and her face… aah her face. Gorgeous was the word that sprang immediately to mind. Large green eyes, fine features and a mouth that was practically screaming “Kiss me!” All this framed by a lustrous mane of short cropped blonde hair. I was doing my best stunned mullet impression; mouth opening and closing, when I noticed something. Something miraculous.

She was spotless. Not a hair was out of place and she had nary a trace of soot on her person. It was as if she had just stepped out of a beauty salon. Something wasn’t quite right here. She gave up the fight and turned to me.

“Alright Shane, you got your shot, but let me warn you that one wrong move will find you needing the services of a good urologist first thing Christmas morning. Comprende?”

“Gotcha. By the way… who are you? Are you always this friendly or is it something to do with the bad night you’re having? And how did you know my name? And why did you come down my chimney? And finally… what the fuck happened on my roof? I just moved in here and haven’t paid my security bond yet. If there is any damage up there I am right in the shit… neck deep!” With the benefit of hindsight I can say now that it should have been glaringly obvious, but then no one has ever accused me of being the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

Rolling her eyes, this vision threw a glance heavenward and turned her back to me, bending at the waist as she did. She had a world class ass. What the boys down at the pub called a pornstar ass. And I was about to get my grubby little mitts on it. Thank god for splintery wood.

The black lace panties were actually an amalgamation of lace and satin. Not quite a g-string, not quite full briefs, the band at the rear of her panties neatly bisected her spectacular ass cheeks. There, rudely protruding from the soft white skin of her left cheek was the demon splinter. Bent over as she was, hands on knees, feet slightly spread, and looking back at me warily over her shoulder, she was the epitome of my wettest of wet dreams. My cock reached full hardness in mere nano seconds. I could have pounded nails with it, it was that hard. My flimsy rugby shorts struggled to disguise the effect she was having on me and finally they gave up the fight. The head of my cock popped up over my waistband. I blushed and bent to the task at hand. To cover my embarrassment I spoke.

“So are you going to answer my questions?”

“Okay studly. First off, you can call me Miss November for want of something better. I’m sorry I’m being bitchy but I’ll explain it all over a nice cup of cappuccino. Finally… think about it. It is the wee small hours of Christmas morning. There is a crash on your roof and someone slides down your chimney dressed in red and black. Can you put it together or do you want to borrow my slide rule. Aah shit sorry for that. I guess I am bitchy. Do your stuff with my butt, make a coffee and we can start fresh okay?”

So Santa was real! My parents had bullshitted me. Bastards! I bent to the task at hand.

Her skin was soft and perfumed, the muscles underneath firm and flexible. It was a butt I could fall in love with. In moments I had the offending timber removed from her lovely bottom. Before she stood up I leaned forward and gave her a swift soft kiss on the ass.

“That one is free, but if you try it again without being invited you’ll need a proctologist to remove my shoe from your ass.” She murmured sexily, but with enough steel in her voice to let me know she still meant business. “Coffee time.”

Obediently I put the coffee on to brew and then rummaged through the fridge for something I could feed this lady. As I searched she talked.

“I’m not the real Santa of course. He’s waiting up in the sleigh. Long story. Let’ just say I got bad idea that works out for you. Can you throw a shot of scotch into that coffee, babe?”

“So you landing here was all a big accident?” I asked as I added a healthy dollop of scotch to her coffee… then paused and took a slug straight from the bottle. I was a bit miffed to think that I wasn’t on Santa’s nice list. I thought I had been pretty damned good this year… especially to that hot looking girl down at the supermarket checkout. About 21, five foot 7, long brown hair, tits like… anyway I thought I had been good.

“Actually I’m just helping out. Apparently you’ve been a good wee lad and deserve something. Shall we see what we’ve got for you?” She stood and walked over to the sack still lying in my fireplace. Bending and reaching in for it was almost heart stopping for me as she neglected to use good lifting practice and bent from the hips with her legs straight and slightly apart. I knew right then and there what sort of gift I wanted. And I doubted she had it in her sack.

“Oh hell! I’ve given your gift to Mrs Paderewski over the road. I hope she likes porn movies. If memory serves me correctly you were supposed to get a complete set of “Humongous Hooters and Hot Harlots” DVDs. She was supposed to get this.” It was a coffee mug with “Worlds Best Granny” emblazoned on the side in day-glo pink script.

To say I was pissed would be the understatement of the millennium. Here it was, Christmas morning of the first time I have been a good enough adult to deserve a gift and some administrative snafu had delivered my loot into the hands of some old bat down the road. I was mad enough to spit tacks.

“I’m sorry Shane,” purred Miss November with what I thought sounded like a real tone of regret. Perhaps she was thawing? “I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you.” There it was!

I had been good all year and all it had won me was a mangy old coffee mug. Time to be evil and grab myself a taste of the luscious Miss November.

“Now that you mention it there is something you could do.” I said with an evil grin. “You could help me with this.” So saying I reached into my pants and pulled out my half hard cock.

Miss November was still bent over in her original position but was twisted slightly so she could look back at me. One look at my cock brought gales of laughter from her gorgeous throat.

“That little thing. God man, back where I come from that wouldn’t even make a good appetizer. Does it get bigger?” Okay that was the final straw. I crossed the room in two bounds and grabbed her around the waist thrusting my hardening cock in between those two outstanding globes of buttock flesh. The forward impact of my rush pushed her towards the fireplace and she quickly threw out her hands against the mantle and thrust back. The delicious friction of her slippery satin crotch on my cock had me rock hard in a matter of seconds. Once again I could do basic carpentry with it. In fact I was hoping to get down to some serious screwing in a matter of moments. Her head whipped around and I saw the look of shock on her face… shock and delight. I was going to show her just how naughty I could be. I hoped it would be nice for her.

As she rocked back I put pressure on her crotch with the hard muscle of my cock, then gently pushed her away maintaining pressure on her dampening pussy all the while. I did this a couple of times before I realized that she was copying and maintaining the same rhythm. I let her do all the work and released her hips, reaching forward and cupping her substantial breasts.

Miss November moaned and whipped her head round, staring me straight in the eye.

“All right stud, you’ve got one shot. Make me come or you’ll be looking for a good Orthodontist in the morning.” The common thread of her threats revealed to me that she had a serious medical profession fetish. Too horny to try to exploit this I settled in for a solid session of frantic sex. Sliding my hands into the neck of her dress I attempted to lever her breasts out of their lace bra. This earned me the gentle admonishment of “Leave it alone you Cro-Magnon, you’ll wreck my bra!” and a slap on the hand.

Disengaging herself she spun to face me. A tender smile crossed her gorgeous face and she reached up behind her neck and unzipped the dress.

“Now take it off baby. And let’s get a bit more comfortable. I assume your bed is in there?” She indicated the door to my bedroom with a flick of her head.

“It is.” I managed to croak out with all the suave sophistication of a biker at a stripper’s convention. I had morphed into one huge raging hormone on legs. Unsteady legs I discovered as I led the way shakily to my room. Thank god I had tidied up and changed the sheets that day. I tried to do it twice a year whether it needed it or not.

Entering the bedroom I walked to my bed, surreptitiously sniffing the air for any scent of rancid socks. The sudden shove in the middle of my back sent me sprawling into the middle of my bed. I rolled over and propped myself on my elbows, watching what she was up to.

Miss November was draped all over the door frame in the style of the femme fatales of years gone by, her dress hanging loosely at the neck because of her open zipper. As soon as she was sure she had my undivided attention she moved to the bed. Her form of locomotion could most accurately be described as slinking, and man could that woman slink! Stopping a couple of feet from the bed she did a little shimmy and her dress was suddenly an attractive red pool at her feet. The black lingerie was all that stood in the way of my ultimate Christmas. Stepping out of the pool at her feet she crawled up onto the bed and advanced on my helpless figure. Pausing only to mop at the drool on my chin, I slid down the bed to meet her half way.

As she crawled her fingers were fumbling with the catch on her bra. By the time she reached me the garment was hanging off the bedpost at the foot of my bed. In moments we were nipple to nipple, our lips locked together in a passionate kiss. Miss November’s tongue lashed mine, and wildly probed my mouth, exploring as far as she could. Her heavy breasts dragged across my now naked chest; her nipples a contrast in hardness against the soft flesh of the rest of her mounds. We were both now upright on our knees. Struggling to maintain lip contact I pushed my shorts down and off. The purple head of my hard cock was now butting against her flat firm stomach.

As my hands slipped down her back to cup and caress her firm ass cheeks, hers drifted between my legs to grasp my cock and slowly stroke and tease me. I felt the silky pad of her thumb slide across the eye of my hardness, spreading the drop of pearly goo that had gathered there. My hands were busy kneading and separating her ass cheeks, slowly exploring further and further between them until my fingers were brushing against the now wet crotch of her panties. I could feel the smooth wet softness of her pussy lips as they flowered open under my light touch. Just as my finger dragged slowly over the hard nubbin of her clit, I felt her thumb swirl under the head of my cock and around the rim of the corona. We moaned at the same time. It was time to take this up a notch.

Sliding my thumbs into the waistband of her panties I slipped them down her long legs and with a bit of wiggling managed to get them off. This was where I was going to show her who was boss right? Wrong. With another mighty shove I was on my back and she was sliding her pussy onto my face. It was reflex to start licking and probing with my tongue… a reflex I didn’t think she would be complaining about. My tongue immediately drove deep between the lips of her wet pussy and deep inside her. She tasted delicious; sweet and spicy, with a slight tang to make things very interesting. Her fingers wound their way into my hair and pulled me close… close enough to have my nose mashed against her clit. Every time I moved my head it put direct pressure on her clit and sent bolts of pleasure racing through her. Miss November was now constantly moaning and her thrusts onto my tongue were starting to come sporadically. I knew she wasn’t far off from her first orgasm. My hands were free and at the time not being used for anything useful, so I decided to remedy that and help Miss November along towards her orgasm. One hand slid up to cup and squeeze her breast while the other slipped to her ass. My fingers swirled around her asshole and then down to her wet pussy. I raised my aim with my lips and tongue and quickly captured her erect clit, sucking it into my mouth, at the same time sliding a finger deep inside her and searching out the rough bump that was her G spot.

I hit it right off the bat. I had visited G spots before and like most Kiwi males I had a good instinctive memory for directions. Miss November went ballistic. Two seconds after my finger found and massaged her G spot I was having real trouble breathing. She ground herself down on my face and started bucking… hard. Her hands flew to the side of my head and grabbed my ears which she used as convenient handles to drag me further into her spasming pussy. What started out as a low moaning rose in pitch and volume until she was keening a high pitched cry to the heavens. Her orgasm was truly spectacular, and all I could do was hold on for the ride and hope I lived to tell the tale. As she coasted down the back slope of her orgasm she relented and the grip slackened on my ears. Being able to breathe again had its own benefits.
“My God!” she moaned. “Do you have any idea how badly I needed that? The number of houses I have been in tonight where Mom and Dad have been noisily screwing their brains out has been unbelievable. I have been horny since my second town!”

She slumped forward and wriggled down until her lips were once again locked with mine. Reaching down she started to stroke my still rock hard member. Her show, combined with the fact that I hadn’t had sex for so long I couldn’t remember who was supposed to tie who up, had me right on the edge of an orgasm of my very own. I passed this info on to her in as casual a manner as I could.


She jumped as if she had been shot, but removed her hand. I needed a bit of a settling down period that was all. She looked up at me and grinned wickedly, then proceeded to slide down the bed until her lovely cheek was just brushing the head of my cock. It twitched in warning.

“I’m warning you! It’ll go off on its own. It has happened before baby.” She just grinned then wrapped her small hand around the base and squeezed… hard. Then in a lightning quick move she swallowed my cock whole. I damned near went through the roof. I couldn’t come because of her iron grip choking off the plumbing down there, which was a relief, but at the same time I was worried that the pressure would back up and give me some sort of blowback effect.

Her mouth clamped tightly around my shaft and Miss November started a rhythm moving up and down my cock that was going to cause an explosion in a matter of seconds. Her tongue laved the underside of my dick and then swirled around the head without once releasing it from her mouth. The suction this lady was creating was awesome. I was going to blow.

“Dammit, I’m going to COMMMMMMMMMME!” As I bellowed out my somewhat late warning, she thrust my whole length into her throat in one swoop just as I fired the first of several blasts of semen down over her tonsils. She hung on for grim death as I continued to shoot ribbons of hot white down her throat; bobbing her head slowly and milking my cock with her hand. Finally the spastic movements of my hips slowed, then stopped and I coasted to a stop… drained. Miss November continued sucking gently until she was convinced I had no more to donate to the Miss November Protein Fund. Slowly she slid back up my body coming to a rest draped across my chest. We kissed slowly, then she made to get up.

“Where are you off to baby?” I murmured drowsily.

“Hey lover, it was great but these presents don’t deliver themselves you know.” She was sliding back into her dress when I finally had the strength to sit up.

“But I thought we were going to have sex?” I whined plaintively.

She grinned and came back over to the bed.

“I never said that now did I? Tell you what… Easter is just around the corner. I’m planning on standing in for the Easter Bunny. Play your cards right and I’ll be back. This time I’ll have a bit more time to spare. Eggs are easier to deliver than Tonka toys and Barbie’s. See you then okay?” With that she blew me a kiss and was gone.

I lay there for a while wondering if it had all been some sort of dream. When I could stand it no longer I got up and went to make a cup of coffee in my new coffee mug…

…Britany climbed back into the sleigh and Santa immediately noticed her slightly disheveled look. “That seemed to take awhile,” he said archly.

“Well, I want to make sure everybody’s Christmas is merry,” she said primly as she rearranged her clothes.

“I suppose,” he said and picked up the reins and guiding the sleigh up into the air. “We’re off to Australia now.”

“Do the reindeer know the way?”

“Of course.”

“Then, Santa baby, let’s do some more fucking.”

“Merry Christmas, Britany,” Santa said as he lifted her lithe body onto his cock.

“Oooooo, Santa, Merry Christmas!”


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