Father Christmas Comes Early
Starring: Isabela Moner
Isabela Moner had been doing a spot of Christmas shopping in her local mall when she’d stopped for a bite to eat at the ground floor food court. The teen actress was halfway through a Mexican quinoa salad when something caught her eye in the centre of the busy precinct. A man in a Santa outfit with a long white fake beard was sat on a large green chair in some kind of improvised grotto.
A tall Christmas tree stood behind him; painstakingly decorated with all manner of baubles, flashing lights and lengths of tinsel, a number of ‘presents’ (empty cardboard boxes) of varying size wrapped and bowed underneath. Gathered around the shopping mall Santa were a number of parents and excited children; the little terrors taking turns to hop up onto his knee, remove his floppy red hat and tug at his big false beard as they rattled off the seemingly never ending list of expensive toys they hoped he’d bring them during his rounds on the 25th.
A grin stretched across Isabela’s pretty, olive-toned face as she finished her salad and sipped from a bottle of water. The 18 year old starlet was always on the lookout for ways to cause mischief and this scene before her looked like a fantastic opportunity to engage in one of her favourite pastimes; prick teasing. She waited for the crowd to disperse, gathered her shopping bags and headed for the grotto.
Santa was preparing to take advantage of a rare lull in proceedings and nip out for a smoke break. He was gathering his belongings when a soft, feminine voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Oh, no. I’m not too late am I, Santa?”
Expecting a young mother with a small child, Santa responded in his best jovial character’s voice, interspersing his reply with several ho-ho-ho’s for good measure. “Don’t worry, young lady. Santa will be back in five minutes. He just has to pay a quick visit to the elves to take care of some Christmas business, then he’ll be right back in his grotto. Ho ho ho!”
“Ahh, come on, Santa. Can’t you just squeeze me in first? I’ll be real quick. Honest!”
The voice was closer now and appeared to be coming from just behind him. Santa turned to face his addresser, his eyes nearly popping out from behind his festive costume as he caught sight of the stunning young woman at his side. Her silky dark brown hair had been dip dyed blonde and hung over her shoulders in light curls, her gorgeous face made up with all manner of expensive beauty products. She wore skinny jeans and an ultra tight-fitting Christmas sweater, the words ‘Even Naughty Girls Deserve Something Nice’ stretched across her perky teenage chest. She didn’t appear to have a child with her and though she wasn’t much more than a kid herself, she was certainly too old for a turn on Santa’s lap.
“I’m sorry, young lady,” Santa replied in his usual jolly fashion, “but you look a bit big for old Santa’s knee.”
“Oh, pleeeease, Santa,” Isabela begged. “I swear I’ve been extra good this year!”
She placed a hand across Santa’s shoulders and, though he continued to protest, parked her cute little butt on his lap.
“Hey, lady! What the fuck are you do-?!” Santa exclaimed, his merry character’s voice replaced his more familiar 40 year old out of work actor’s voice as the teenage beauty perched herself on his knee, then stopped altogether as he felt the peachy cheeks of her ass rub against his cock.
“Well, Santa,” said Isabella, her arms wrapped around his shoulder blades, “aren’t you gonna ask me what I want for Christmas?”
Santa gulped nervously. “Erm, yeah,” he replied, returning to his jovial persona as best as he could as he felt his dick begin to grow in his red velvet pants. “What do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?”
“Hmm,” Isabella pondered, turning her back to Santa as she started to grind her supple, round ass up and down the outline of his dong. “Well I could use some new lingerie. Ooo! And a bikini! Maybe a little g-string one. What do you think, Santa?”
Jolly old Saint Nick’s jolly old dick swelled to its customary ten inches under the fabric of his pants as he pictured Isabella in her requested item; the floss thin g-string slicing between her bronzed cheeks, and the teeny crotch cradling her barely legal pussy as she lazed on a sunny beach. By this stage, Santa had started to notice a new group of children gathering around his grotto; kids of about this girl’s age. High school seniors, maybe the odd college student. Or quite a few college students. In fact, a lot of them didn’t appear to be kids at all. And they were all male; some of them filming and snapping pics on their phones as Isabella writhed up and down his wang.
“Also, a new vibrator,” she went on. “I wore my last one out.” She looked back at Santa, flashing him a wink as she worked her crotch up and down his shaft. “And one of those little bullet ones, ‘cause I keep getting bored in traffic jams. And a new dildo. One of those ones with a suction cup so I can bounce up and down on it like this.”
She demonstrated; her peach of an ass colliding repeatedly with his dick, her perky teenage titties no doubt jiggling wonderously under her skimpy Christmas jumper as she hopped up and down on his lap.
“But what I really
want, Santa,” she purred as she perched back on his thighs, “is a dick. A big, juicy, fat, veiny dick. Looks like Christmas came early for me this year.”
Isabella ground on Santa’s lap like a professional stripper; the tubby old fella feeling the warmth of her arousal not only through the fabric of her jeans, but the velvet of his costume too. By now, Saint Nick was trembling like a leaf in his big green chair. His cock as throbbing away in his pants like nobody’s business; every pass of Isabella’s supple, round ass down the length of his dong making his jingle balls churn with a fresh load of festive fuckjuice. One more was all it took; a final pass of her burning hot crotch making his dick erupt under the fabric of his costume.
“Uhh!” he groaned as a creamy load of piping hot semen shot from the hole in his dong and splattered across his thigh and right down to his knee.
He felt the sticky, warm seed trickle down his thigh and soak into the velvet of his pants.
“Thank you, Santa,” said Isabella, looking back at his gawking face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head having just blown what felt like a week’s worth of human egg nog into the crotch of his trousers. “I hope I get everything I’ve asked for this year. As I’m sure you’ll agree, I’ve been a very good girl.”
She looked down at his lap, grinning like a sly fox as she spotted the wet patch on his pants. “Ooh, dear. Looks like Father
Christmas came early too!”