Kimberly McArthur : Santa Baby

Kimberly McArthur : Santa Baby

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Buxom and luscious, Kimberly McArthur shimmies and shakes her 37-22-34 figure to a classic Christmas tune.

Summary

Buxom and luscious, Kimberly McArthur shimmies and shakes her 37-22-34 figure to a classic Christmas tune.

Content

Submitted: December 01, 2016

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Content

Submitted: December 01, 2016

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Kimberly McArthur allows herself one last sip from the silver flask; the expensive cognac is strong, forcing a cough from her pretty throat. From this petite beauty even the cough and the way she screws up her lovely face in reaction to the powerful liquor paints a lovely sexy portrait. She exhales a combination of a silly raspberry sound and a frosty mist; her sweet breath mingles with the sharp bitter air. The warm liquor within her and the cold air around her provides the bracing affect she was hoping it would. Hunched down into her parka, she tries to reduce the bite in the wind. She’s from Texas and Chicago snow is still amazing to her. The snow is a couple of days old but the temperature never seems to get much past zero. In the dark night sky she can see a few fresh flakes floating down and she wonders if another storm is coming. 

At the far end of the lot the big tour bus with the giant bunny logo on the side looks frozen. Peter’s limousine looks equally cold.  No sanctuary anywhere.

She’s tempted to take another sip but she closes the flask and closes her eyes; she’s visualizing warmth and for the bodacious Kimberly that means she’s visualizing sex and when the delicious Miss January is visualizing sex she’s visualizing making love, giving her entire being, body and soul, to her lover. Even in the bulky parka she looks like a very naughty angel. When she opens her eyes Peter is standing in front of her.

“What are you doing out here, Kimmy?” He flashes a smile and her pulse quickens. “Watching for Santa’s sleigh?”

“You know I’m scared; I like to use the cold to get my courage up.” She smiles back. His grin always brings a grin out of her. “And I borrowed your flask,” she says offering it back with a graceful hand. “What is this stuff? It feels dangerous.”

Peter takes the flask and allows himself a small sip; he still tastes her sweet lips on the spout. “Cognac,” he says, not bothering to mention that it was Reserve du Fondateur worth over $1,200 a bottle.

She sticks out her tongue cutely. “Well, I’m not much of a girl for spirits but I don’t think a Pepsi going to do me much good out here.”

“That’s right, and you know the cold is no good for your muscles. Get inside and be careful.”

She rolls her eyes as his ever-present protective side comes out. “Yeah, I know the speech. Thanks, Daddy.” Her sweet Texan twang is teasing and seductive; he discovered her and made her a Playmate and she still enjoys tantalizing him with her alluring charms.

He grins at her again. But there is something else behind it, this time. His eyes look her over, and she knows how he is imagining her. She starts to blush. “Go back inside and be wonderful tonight, ok, babe?” 

She looks down and notices that even in the slush gathered around the back door of the club seems to respect his custom-made Italian loafers. Somehow Peter can bend the world to his will. She closes her eyes again and sighs. He certainly bends her to his will; she will do anything for him, but she wishes he made all his demands in bed. She frowns sweetly and wonders for the hundredth time why he wants her to do this show. When she opens her eyes, he is opening the door and gesturing her towards the dressing room. She heeds his advice and walks back inside. She shucks off the heavy snow boots and wriggles out of the bulky parka; somehow, even in her innocence, she makes it seem like a sexy strip-tease.

The dressing room’s feeble attempts at Christmas cheer don’t daunt her own spirit. The cardboard Santa is curling at the edges and the plastic wreath smells of nicotine instead of pine needles.  At her vanity, Kimberly sits with her eyes closed. In her mind plays a jaunty Christmas tune. She watches herself dance and the steps are perfect. She sees herself go through her entire number and the explosive reactions of the audience. Even her fellow dancers are amazed. In truth, she knows that she is overplaying it a bit, but it helps her relax some and brings a smile to her face to picture the adoration of all those around her. This visualization ritual has been with her ever since Peter started bringing her and some other playmates from the Mansion to this club. She dances better after doing it. She feels better about dancing, at any rate.

With trepidation, Kimberly rises from her chair and begins to stretch, getting her heart pumping and warming her muscles. Next, she looks into the vanity mirror and checks her outfit. Her voluptuous frame is draped in a red silken cape with a ¾-length red silk and lace nightgown beneath. The bright red panties, edged in glimmering sparkles, flash from underneath. She adjusts the Santa cap on her strawberry blonde hair and checks herself once more. Her attire hangs perfectly and is blemish free. Her hair falls over her shoulders and her makeup is soft and subtle, just the way she likes it. Lastly, she slips on her red stiletto heels, which lift her petite frame and accent the shapely lines of her legs. The shoes make her feet ache, but are mandatory.

Kimberly walks to the door of the main room and waits for her music. On stage Miss August is dancing to her Christmas song and Kimberly, who can never be unkind or judgmental, can’t help wince a bit when the bruising guitar cords slap her ears; no she doesn’t want to be critical but she has a hard time with a heavy metal arrangement of Jingle Bells. Still she smiles warmly for Debbie and cheers raucously and fills the room with her rebel yell as Debbie finishes; Kimberly is always supportive of the other girls. 

Now the room is quiet; the stagehands had seen her rehearsal and they lick their lips in anticipation. The bartenders and waitresses have paused and give their full attention to the stage; the crowd senses immediately that something special is about to happen. And they’re not waiting for Santa Claus. 
The music starts, her music; Kimberly struts onto the stage. She loves these moments. Kimberly is ordinarily a shy and demure girl but now she rules the world. The loud and rambunctious rock and metal of the other dancers is replaced with her softer music. This time, the light bongo tapping and soft synthesizer opening of “Santa Baby” greets Kimberly when she steps through the curtain. She takes a long moment to look around the club before continuing.

She steps slowly into the room, careful to stay in time with the music. She lets her hips sway softly with each step as she moves through the men and makes her way to center stage. The arrangement for the song extends the instrumental introduction to allow her a long and sensual promenade through the crowd. As usual, she wonders if the light reflecting off her cape as it swishes left and right and silhouettes her figure presents as pleasing a sight as she thinks. Perfectly timed, her first step on the stairs comes with the first deep drum beats in the music. She lets her body move more dramatically with the music. Her chest and hips start to wind slightly as she works her way up the stairs. The music is sultry and erotic as she makes her way to the middle of the stage. 

The microphone on its stand, Kimberly swaying sexily, the crowd is hushed with anticipation. Her face is angelic, guileless, still when those soft sweet lips approach the mic, not a man in the audience doesn’t think an erotic thought of oral pleasure. She takes a breath, a soft sigh in harmony with the music; men in the audience groan with lust.

Then, in that soft Texan twang of hers she begins to sing:

Santa baby, just slip yourself into the bed with me…

The crowd is too enthralled with her sexy aura to notice her slight wince at the struggle to fit the new lyrics into the rhythm of the song, but she’s a trooper and throws herself into it.

Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight

She feels the pressure of the entire crowd leaning forward as the new lyrics tease out of her luscious mouth; she’s really not much of a singer but the song’s promise and the sexy swaying of her body is 100% entertainment. 

Santa baby, I’ll be naked and ready for you, it’s true;
I'll wait up for you, dear; Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Peter’s really not much of a lyricist and Kimberly has no vanity about her own voice, more suitable for the shower but there’s not a man here who wouldn’t be in heaven if he could only have the chance to see Kimberly singing in the shower.

Think of all the fun I've missed;
Think of the delicious way we kiss;
Next year I could be just as good... if you check off my Christmas list
Santa baby, I want your love and I know that’s a lot;
Been an angel all year; Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa honey, one special thing I really need...
Your love... and it’s driving me mad, Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.
Santa cutie, and fill me up with sweet sweet love;
Give it to me hard and rough, Santa cutie,
and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's;
I really do believe in you;
Let's see if you believe in me...

The music vamps for a second and Kimberly bites her lip, letting a bit of her anxiety show through her performance. She’s basically a shy and demure girl and this next part makes her nervous; still Peter wants it. She takes a deep breath and gushes out a breathless orgasm with the new lyrics.

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing... your cock
And I like it real hard; Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry, tonight! 

She’s panting out the words in a sultry whisper; her eyes closed see Peter inside her while she urges him on. 

The crowd is berserk but the music isn’t over and Kimberly is still writhing slowly and slowly, she draws her hand up the side of her body, lightly tracing her body’s curves with her fingertips. She gives her neck a rub before tugging at the bow hidden behind her neck and under her hair. For a long second, the only movement on the stage is from the ripples of her silk slip as it glides down her body. Her negligee slithers down her curvilinear form and gathers at her feet, as the music explodes into a wall of sound. She turns and the cape is off in an instant. Under the hungry gazes of the patrons, she dances, wearing only her heels, bright red sparkly panties and barely-there red lace bra. But Kimberly isn’t dancing for any of the men she knows are watching her. She only dances for Peter.

As Peter watches from his seat, Kimberly stands in front of him, moving to the beat of the drums. She lets the beat work itself into her mind and speak to her, guide her, envelope her. Her hands slide down her body, accentuating the shape of her breasts and the curve of her hips. When their eyes meet, Kimberly sees the same genuine desire in Peter’s eyes that she feels in her heart. She turns her back to him and continues the dance. Her hands slide up the back of her thighs, lightly skirting along her behind where she knows he will be looking. She hooks her thumbs in her panties and tugs. Careful not to slide them down, she teases him, knowing he is thinking about the treasure that little piece of fabric holds. She releases her panties, but continues to sway her hips back and forth. The movement of Kimberly’s body is so hypnotic, it is easy to not notice when she unhooks her bra. She slides the bra off and lets it drop with her other clothes. Keeping an arm wrapped across her chest, she dances in front of him, slowly drawing closer, but still out of reach. Now, clothed in only the heels and panties, she still does not reveal the parts of herself that he wants to touch so much it makes him ache. She turns her back to him and spreads her arms out by her sides. All he sees is a slight curve or bounce of her breast when she moves her body, but never the full sight.

As the song moans on, Kimberly finally does turn around. A sensuous sax solo fills the room as she begins to tease herself. Her hands caress her body, fingers running across her areola as her already sensitive nipples respond and stiffen. She makes sure she is close enough to him so he can see it happen. When he reaches to touch her, she slips away. She dances back toward him, but stays out of reach, slipping his touch again whenever he reaches. She sees the hunger in his eyes grow and almost get the better of him. She stays out of his reach until he cannot stand it any more. Usually by then, neither can she.

The song ends and Kimberly blinks in surprise at the roar of the crowd. Portraits of great Americans cover the stage, a lot of Andrew Jacksons and Ulysses S. Grants, even Benjamin Franklins.  All of them will be gathered up for an orphanage back in Dallas, Texas. Those kiddies are going to have a fine Christmas she thinks proudly. Now comes a scary part; she tries to sway sexily as hands pull on the elastic of her panties and soon a dozen or more Benjamin Franklins stick out of her panties and garter. As she stoops to pick up some of the money, she feels the eyes of the men on her. Two other playmates come out with brooms to sweep up the rest of the bills but all eyes are on Kimberly. They all desire her and she knows it. She learned to take her time picking up the bills and not to rush to put her outfit back together. The longer the men see her stoop and bend, the more they will want her when she gets to them.

With her money collected and outfit reassembled, she walks off the stage. Susie Scott, the next dancer, passes as her music starts and she makes her way to the stage. She breaks out of character just enough to look at Kimberly as she passes and whispers, “Wow!”

Some men respond to Susie as she takes the stage and new music fills the air. But Kimberly feels that she still holds the attention of several. She makes a mental note of the ones who seem to respond the most and makes sure to give them special attention as she makes her rounds on the floor. She makes more notes as she moves about them, collecting more Presidents for teasing them as they sip their drinks. She picks a man that showed signs of “readiness”. He cannot seem to take his eyes off her as she moves through the crowd. She keeps an eye on him as she teases others. At the earliest opportunity, Kimberly works her way back to him. When she reaches him, Kimberly imagines herself with Peter again; she knows he’s watching her now.

The lucky man she selected sits in his chair as she approaches to tease him up close. Kimberly moves close to him, swaying sensually and slowly to the beat of the current music. He looks her up and down and starts to reach for a Benjamin Franklin from the stack on the table for when the playmates play this game. His eyes seem glued to her body’s motions, as she never pauses her swaying except to let him slip a portrait of Franklin under her bra. She purrs appreciation and whispers, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

She turns and leans back as she sways, draping her body across his. She runs a hand across his shoulder and neck as he slips another bill into her panties. “Oooo,” she squeals, “I must have been a very good girl, Santa.” She leans forward and starts to grind her rear into his hips slowly, accentuating each new measure with an extra thrust. “Am I a good girl, Santa?” Kimberly’s twang is sultry and soft but still innocently playful. She feels him grow larger and harder as another bill finds its way into her thong. 

Kimberly turns and leans close enough to practically pin the man to the bar. “If that last bill has more friends, you and I can have a private dance in the back.” She gestures toward a door covered by a curtain. She continues to sway to the music. When she sees his eyes follow the swing of her breasts as she moves, she knows what the answer will be.

Kimberly leads him into the back room and sits him down on a large comfy chair. The music here is more subdued, soft sensuous saxophones moan their way through and endless version of “Little Drummer Boy” and Kimberly hums along, only singing one line, moaning out “Come they told me” whenever the melody allows it. She breathes out the word “come” so it sounds orgasmic.

Miss January wriggles sexily while humming through the song; she carefully gauges his arousal, then she glances above his head, “Mistletoe,” she whispers and the word sounds incredibly promising and sensuous. Then she kisses him, softly, slowly, sensuously; the state flower of Texas is the Bluebonnet and no other flower brings out such upsurging of spirit and at the same time a dreamy calm, an evanescence at once delicate and tonic as an angel’s breath, intoxicating—that’s Kimberly’s breath when she kisses.

Now she stands before him and takes two steps back. Unhooking her bra and letting it slip off, Kimberly slips back into the dance.

He leans back in the chair and stares at her with unmistakable lust in his eyes. Kneeling between his legs, she slowly draws her body up along his. First her head, then face, then neck slides along his member. As her breasts start to slip along either side, she lets her face graze along his stomach. She blows lightly on his belly as she works her way up. He twitches slightly beneath her, bringing a smile to her face. As she starts to rise to his chest level, she turns and lets her buttocks rest on his lap. She moves her hips in slow sensual circular motions, savoring the feeling of him between her cheeks. She leans back and her fingers play in his hair, as she presses against him harder. He jumps slightly when she plays with his ears, but she does not let it spoil her rhythm or motion.

After a few long moments, Kimberly turns around and straddles his lap. Balancing herself with the back of the chair, she drops deeper into his lap until she feels him between her legs. Separated only by silk and cotton, she feels him throb as she moves. She humming the sexy Drummer Boy music again and purrs out the word “come” as if conjuring an orgasm. She feels hot and flushed as the heat they generate begins to affect her; she tosses away the Santa cap and her honey fresh hair dances in the light. She places her hands behind his neck and changes her motion, now thrusting her hips into his. He looks down at her body and caresses her breasts with his hands. His hands slowly glide along her body and find her hips in full thrust action with his. He pulls her towards him with each thrust, enhancing the feeling between them. The thrusts continue, slowly and patiently, always locked in time with the music. Soon, the harmony of the music is broken by his small grunts. The small grunts become larger grunts. The larger grunts grow to a crescendo. After one final desperate grunt, the music plays alone.

Kimberly climbs off the man’s lap and puts on her usual smile. His head lolls back as he tries to catch his breathe. Outwardly, she smiles and calmly picks up her money and redresses. With practiced composure, she wrestles down her inner feelings and looks back at him with a sexy smile. Keep him happy, she thinks. Make him feel the Christmas spirit.

“Damn,” he says after a few seconds. “You make a man forget this is make believe.”

“For some guys it’s not,” she says, gesturing to the wet spot starting to show through his jeans.

“Damn,” he says again through deep breaths. Although he may want to jump up and clean himself, his head lolls back again. She knows he is not going to be moving for another couple of moments.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” She manages to say in her sexiest voice. She stays long enough to see him nod.

Peter’s waiting in the dressing room; she sighs and pulls her Santa hat back on and she smiles her silly playful smile.  The room is noisy with the raucous giddiness of beauteous girls peeling off clothes, adjusting clothes and make-up and hair; they are all trying to attract Peter’s attention but his eyes are on Kimberly.

Kimberly watches him, barely noticing the other girls and if she does she couldn’t be jealous; Peter’s silent gaze tells her she belongs to him. “I’ll never understand you, why you wanted me to do that,” her voice is pouty but she’s smiling wickedly.

Peter, saying nothing, smiles back and helps her into her parka. She’s practically nude underneath but it doesn’t matter because the limousine is toasty warm. The other playmates will ride back to the Mansion on the bus but Kimberly will ride with Peter. 

In a moment they’re in the back seat, so warm she expects to see a fireplace; there is beautiful Christmas music on the stereo and two warm rum toddies have mysteriously appeared on the bar. Peter offers a drink to the luscious girl who is already wriggling out of the parka, her almost nude body glistening with excitement. 

Waving the drink away, Kimberly is giddy and frisky; she’s pulling off her Santa panties with one hand and undoing Peter’s trousers with the other. “All I want for Christmas is you,” she gushes with glee. 

He enters her quickly; her sweet sex engulfs him and he explodes into her a galaxy of white hot stars. The heat fills her with warmth and love. He’ll be balling her all night and they’ll take their time, exploring each other’s body, but this fuck is a frenzied sealing of a pact, a fuck to stop all the clocks. Christmas bells chime, loud and true in the crisp winter air and Kimberly feels nothing but love and joyous tears glitter in her eyes; her bliss explodes like Handel’s Messiah, soaring into rapturous delight. “Hallelujah!” she squeals in her Texan twang as she kicks the roof of the car in a feverish ecstasy. Her climax is trumpeted by angels and devils all united in the Christmas spirit.

“Merry Christmas, baby” she purrs and she lifts one of her luscious breasts to his mouth. 


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