Waiting Up For Santa

In time he pulled away. She felt the cold wetness of his soaked whiskers as he brushed them over and into her smooth, round ass cheeks, using her own skin as a towel to dry at least some of her copious juices from his now soaked and matted beard. When he'd finished he moved up over her. She felt his fat, soft belly brushing over her ass and then pressing down into her back.

Kristen braced herself for her beloved father's entry into her body.

"Tell Santa what you want, little girl."

"Please fuck me, Daddy."

Her words came out in a quiet, breathy whisper, in sharp contrast to his own soft but firm tone of voice.

"Have you been a good little girl this year?"

"Yes, Santa. Yes. I've been good."

"Has anyone else fucked your tight, dirty little hole while Daddy was away?"

"No, Daddy. No, Santa. No one has fucked my hole. Not any of my holes. They all belong to Daddy."

She pictured him smiling cruelly above and behind her as she felt his cock-head press against her wet, hungry opening. The bulge of his prick pushed against and then into her, spreading her tight slit wider as it forced its way inside of her. Kristen squinted her eyes closed as she succumbed to the joyous the feel of his entry.

After so very, very long, she had her daddy inside of her once again. After such a long, lonely year, Daddy was fucking his beloved Kristen again, the way he should, the way they were always meant to do. They were the perfect lovers together, she thought, absolutely perfect.

Kristen felt the smooth, cool, hardwood floor pressing against her tits, flattening them into her ribs, as her daddy's massive round belly pressed down into her while his cock pushed up inside of her. The curve of his belly fit snuggly into the arch of the small of her back above her rounded ass, much as his thick cock fit snugly into her narrow cunt.

With steady, even strokes her daddy drove his cock in and out of her aching, pulsating pussy. She help her thighs firmly together to make her cunt as tight and small for him as she could. She gritted her teeth, steeling herself against the amazing, overpowering sensations he gave her. His cock felt magnificent, filling her in the way that she'd craved all year long as she waited and waited in her loneliness for Christmas Eve to come so that Santa could deliver to her her most treasured and anticipated present.

"Will you use your Chimney Magic now, Daddy? Please?"

He ignored her plea, as she knew he would. He'd make her beg before he gave in, as if he begrudged her the pleasure or the effort. That was good. She knew that he would never refuse her anything. She wanted to beg for him. But she knew that he couldn't wait to give her what she asked for. He was Santa, after all.

But she loved begging for more from him. She whimpered and whined as much for her own pleasure as for his.

"Please, Daddy? Please? Please use Chimney Magic in my pussy, Daddy. Please. I need your magic cock so badly, Daddy."

With those words his pace increased. His only other response was to grab a handful of her hair in his hands to pull her head back, as if he were reining in the reindeer pulling his sleigh. Kristen laughed with a happy, wicked, sound, before changing her pleas to spoiled, whining, almost childish demands.

"Do it now, Daddy! Do it now! Use Chimney Magic now!"

She knew what she wanted, and she couldn't wait any longer. Daddy had to give it to her. Santa had to bring her what she asked for.

Her father released her hair, letting her sink back down to spread her arms and splay her hands against the smooth, cool surface of the wooden floor. Her eyes opened as she looked across at the presents before her head, all stacked and scattered underneath the tree. She could see up into the branches, looking at the ornaments and lights from beneath, an unusual point of view that she experienced only this one night of the year with her daddy.

His stiff cock slipped in and out of her tightly clutching cunt. Daddy's cock wasn't small, but it wasn't big. Not now. Not as big as it could be. Not quite yet.

Daddy thrust himself into her, burying his cock in her to the hilt. His hips crushed the soft flesh of her ass, pressing it flat against her pelvic bones. She squealed, once, as his cock reached up into her further than he had yet tonight, delivering a tingling, electric sensation to her womb that quickly continued, shooting throughout her body.

Then it happened.

Santa's cock started to grow. It thickened and lengthened inside of her, filling her and filling her more and filling her even more. Her daddy's cock grew so that she felt first stretched, then stuffed, then like she was almost to the point of bursting, to the point of literally exploding from the inside out.

"Oh, fuck, Daddy! Fuck! Fucking, Yes, Daddy! Oh, fuck, I so fucking love you, Daddy! I love you, Santa. I fucking love you!"

WIth that, her daddy started to pull his cock from her, so that the thick, full length of him rubbed and tugged at her pussy, as if it were pealing her from the inside out. The time it took for him to withdraw, pulling on her cunt lips the whole way out, let her know how very, very big he had become for her. Even as he withdrew, the Chimney Magic faded, and his cock shrank back to mere human size, but only long enough for him to hold himself steady before thrusting back into her, hard and deep.

And then he grew again.

"Oh fucking fuck, Daddy! Fuck! Fuck! My daddy, my lover-daddy! Oh, fuck, yes, Daddy!"

His cock grew inside of her. She felt like no other woman on earth would ever feel. No other woman on earth would fuck her daddy, Santa. No other woman on earth would be filled with magical Santa daddy-cock. She was special. She was Santa's loving and beloved daughter.

Her daddy fucked her and filled her in this most amazing way, over and over again. She felt empowered and beautiful and desirable, but most of all she felt utterly and completely dominated by the most powerful and loving man she knew. Her hands reached out and about, frantically searching the smooth floor for anything to grab, for something to hang on to. She felt like she was falling, tumbling through a twinkling, colorful void, and if she didn't catch herself she would surely crash and die. Her fingernails scratched across the waxy sheen of the wood floor in frustrated desperation.

As happened every Christmas Eve with her daddy she felt her body starting to spin out of control. The thought and feel of him inside of her drove her to the brink of sanity and beyond. Her daddy was ripping her apart with the most magical, magnificent cock that any woman has ever felt, and the one cock that Kristen knew she should never, ever crave, let alone actually feel inside of her.

"Your cunt belongs to Daddy, Kristen."

She screamed.

"Your hot, tight cunt belongs to Daddy, and only to Daddy, my little girl."

She clawed at the wooden floor with her fingernails, digging for purchase, trying to find any way to hang onto reality as her mind spun loose. She lost herself in a torrent of screams, wails, and unbearable pleasure. Every fiber of her being cried out to make it stop and a the same time to somehow have more. She wanted to come over and over, and to stop coming as soon as she could because the intense pleasure of it threatened to snuff out her very existence.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

She cried the words out over and over as he fucked her ruthlessly with the biggest cock any woman could ever imagine taking, and truly more cock than any woman had ever actually had in her life. When she felt like she could not possibly take any more, when it felt like she really was about to explode from inside, one final, wrenching orgasm struck her dumb. Her words died as her throat constricted and every muscle in her body tensed and froze in place, as if rigor mortis had instantly set in, and then she felt it all begin to subside.

Her eyes hovered, half-closed, as she lay in a near exhausted trance. In the back of her mind she knew that he had, in a final moment of fury and might, come deep inside of her. His, her daddy's cock, was shrinking now, retreating back to its merely human, wonderful form.

Santa subsided, laying atop her, the sweat from his exertions making a slippery matt between his belly and her back. His mouth found her neck, kissing her tenderly there until she turned her head and his lips wickedly found hers, drinking her in with a deep, loving, incestuous kiss that tickled her cheeks and chin with his fluffy, scratchy white beard.

As she kissed him she became conscious of the flood of sticky cum pouring out of her pussy. It was the most wonderful feeling. Along with Chimney Magic Santa had used Delivery Magic on his cock, the magic that allowed him to pull millions of toys from a single sack. Not only had his cock felt almost unbearably big inside of her, but his cum was multiplied ten fold as well, so that he pumped what seemed like gallons of it into her, leaving it to leak and pour out of her tormented cunt in a virtual torrent as his cock subsided and released the flood.

Nothing in the world made her feel as fertile and taken as volumes of her daddy's magical cum gushing out from inside of her, while knowing that for every drop she lost, another remained inside of her womb and with her forever.

"Merry Christmas, Sugarplum," he said fondly.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

* * *

Santa half-dozed as the sleigh jerked to a halt on another rooftop. He shook his head, trying to clear it enough to at least robotically go through the motions. No one in the world appreciated how repetitively, monotonously boring this job was. A hundred million rooftops. A hundred million chimneys, or their equivalents. A hundred million trees or rows of stockings or whatever. Notes and carrots and cookies and milk. Over and over and over again. A hundred million times in one night.

Except for him, it wasn't one night, it was around two hundred weeks, give or take. That was how long it took him, in "personal Santa time" using Clock Magic to make all of his Christmas Eve deliveries. The ordeal for Santa started around eleven PM these days, and it finished at about 5 AM, but more than two hundred weeks later to him.

It did work to his advantage with Kristen, though. It left him with a lot of time to think, as well as to recharge between sessions. For Kristen, only minutes or at most fractions of hours, if she needed to nap, were passing. For Kris, it was weeks and weeks. But that meant that every time he saw her again he was more than raring to go, and she bore the full force of his pent up passions.

What mattered more to Santa now, though, was Kristen's loneliness. After they'd been caught, Mrs. Kringle had raged that Kristen would never be allowed home again. If she could have she might have thrown Kris out on his jiggly ass, too, but throwing Santa out of his North Pole workshop was hardly ever an option. More to the point, she needed Kris and she knew it. If she lost him then she lost her last lifeline with the living world. She could never manage her illness on her own.

So Kristen lived alone in Milwaukee. She struggled through life in a world for which they'd never prepared her. She didn't know how to relate to people. It was actually amazing that she'd found a job that suited her, selling toys in a toy store, except that she related better to the toys than she did to the people around her.

Admittedly, the fact that the toys could talk back did not make that as crazy as it sounds, but still.

Of course she wanted a baby. She was a growing, mature, vibrant woman. Santa knew that. Fuck, he knew that better than anyone, he thought, as he remembered the cute, chirping demonstrations of her orgasms in his mind. Her body had come to life, and every aching fiber in her body cried out to be fertile and have children.

But at the same time, her psyche needed it, too. She was lost and alone in a vast, foreign world. She needed one person, even an infant, to make her feel less alone.

* * *

Kristen watched as her dad methodically dipped the very edge of his cookie into his milk, brought it to his mouth and nippled just that corner that he'd dampened. She watched him chew it, then realized that he was watching her watching him, and smiling back at her with those damned, wonderful, warm eyes of his.

"I love watching you eat cookies, Daddy. It reminds me of home."

Santa scowled then, not much, not so much that anyone else would have noticed, but Kristen did.

"How's Mom?"

He looked at her and his eyes filled with sadness. It was a heart-wrenching sight, the most heart-wrenching sight on earth, perhaps, to see Santa's eyes fill with sadness.

"Nothing's changed. No, that's not right. She's gotten worse."

Kristen pictured her mom, sleeping past noon, then getting up in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers to make a cup of tea, which she'd silently sip, alone at the table, before going back to bed for a few more hours.

"For a while she'd really been hell on the elves. No one could do anything right, anymore. But then even that stopped. It wasn't that she accepted it. She just stopped caring. I almost wish she'd start yelling at them again."

Kristen stared into her own glass of milk. She didn't know what to say. She knew what he meant, and how it must make him feel. She felt so sorry for him. It had been hard enough to grow up with that, in that kind of environment, but now at least she was out. She didn't want to be. She wanted to be back home, with Dad.

But not with Mom. She missed her, but she couldn't live that way anymore.

* * *

Santa fucked her brutally, thrusting in and out of her tight, young cunt with his huge bulk and stiff cock like a man who hadn't had sex in weeks, and who had barely had sex at all in hundreds of years — because he hadn't.

"Take Daddy's cock, Kristen," he growled. "Let Daddy show you that he loves your sweet young body more than any man has ever loved a pretty, little girl. Come for Daddy and show him how much you love his cock, too."

Kristen writhed around beneath his bulk, with her long arms and legs wrapped as far around him as she could manage, holding him close to her as he lost all control. Her fingers scrabbled and clawed across his back, hunting for something, anything to grab hold of. Together, under his weight, she sank deeply into the mattress of her bed, which creaked and moaned itself under the tumultuous burden of Santa's driving thrusts.

Her moans and squeals were heavenly to Santa's ears. He loved giving. He loved making people happy. But nothing made him feel more complete, more loved and like he was giving as well as receiving more than fucking this sweet, beautiful creature that he and Mrs. Kringle had brought into the world twenty plus years ago. She was so beautiful, so sexy, and she made her poor, tired, harried father feel more loved than any other woman on earth ever could.

She was just so fucking sexy, it was impossible to resist her.

Santa listened to the sounds of his daughter coming in his arms. It was absolutely magical. She would start to sing, a soft, even tone, which would suddenly rise in pitch and then abruptly catch in her throat, like the chirp of a small, beautiful bird, as if she didn't dare to voice what she was feeling at that climactic moment, or as if there was no sound on earth to match what she felt. Then she would sigh as she exhaled.

She did that, over and over, singing, faltering, and sighing, singing, faltering and sighing, as she came over and over with her fathers loving, thrusting cock inside of her.

Her cunt was so tight. It squeezed his cock with powerful, constricting spasms that sent him over the edge. The girl was so strong she could have squeezed lumps of coal into diamonds.

She squeeze his cock as she chirped in frenzied, excited climax. Every time she did that, Santa came. Every time she made those precious, perfect noises, her daddy came inside of her.

Santa felt the cum welling up inside of his balls again. For the fifth time this hour, from Kristen's point of view, his cock burst inside of her, releasing a torrent of gushing cum. He filled his little girl with the very seed that had created her. He pumped his daughter's womb full of cock and cum, groaning and growling himself in triumph, as she moaned and screamed wordlessly beneath him.

Santa emptied his cock into his daughter. He felt himself jerk and pump, pushing blasts of cum into her, and feeling that sense of pleasure and power with each pulse of his cock. Four times his cock jerked and gushed. With each jerk he thrust his hips forward, crushing Kristen further down into the mattress and holding them both there, with his cock stabbed into her to the hilt. After he came he did it again, twice, as if hoping to feel again that wonderful, pleasing thrill of emptying even more cum into his daughter.

He wanted to lie here in her arms now. He wanted to hold her lovingly in his arms and to tell her over and over how beautiful she was, and how special and loved he made her feel. He wanted to tell her that of all of the women on earth, she was the only woman who did or could do this for him, and who made his heart ache this way.

He should feel guilty. He couldn't really tell when he'd become a hollow man. Years and years, many hundreds of years by his count, were spent taking the same, tedious steps over and over again. It all started to run together. It was all empty, and eventually he was empty, too.

For a long time Mrs. Kringle helped to keep him in line, until she got out of kilter herself. Things went dark after that, for her and for him. Kristen brought some brief joy into their life, an antidote for their shared monotony and loneliness. For a long while she was actually more important to he and his wife even than Christmas itself. That had lasted for quite a while. It was a wonderful, joyous time, up until Kristen started to grow into a woman, and to rebel against her own, lonely lot in life.

Somewhere in there she went from being their blessing to his only vice. Santa squinted his eyes closed. She was a horrible, unforgivable vice for him. Sometimes the thought of what he'd done, and what he was doing, shook him to the core.

But he wasn't hollow any more. She was the only gift he'd received himself in hundreds of years. She changed him back to who he was. She filled him up and fattened him up in a way that no one could ever understand. She brought him back from the brink.

She was the only woman on earth for whom he was a man and a lover, instead of jolly old Santa Claus.

He wanted to stay with her now, but he couldn't. Not yet. He was enjoying this too much, and he was going to see it through.

He pulled his cock from the bathing, clutching warmth of his daughter's wonderful cunt, and he lifted his body from hers smoothing and quickly so that for one instant that was not contact at all between them.

Time stopped for Kristen. She lay frozen there before him, with her arms and legs still outstretched and raised like a bug who had died on its back, legs curled up before it. Kristen was out of Santa-Time now, and back in the time-flow of the real world.

Kris sighed loudly as he pulled himself from the bed. He stared at her for a long while, admiring her beauty and the raw sexuality she exuded, even here and now, so artlessly and clumsily captured in mid-motion, locked in place in a moment of passion. Her face was contorted in a sort of agonized scream, but there was a trace of a smile there. Her back was arched, thrusting her tits forward as if begging her daddy to suck on them.