I woke up that morning feeling that familiar ache between my legs, the kind that made me squirm under the sheets. At 18, with my blonde hair cascading down my back and these massive tits that strained against every top I owned, I was always horny as hell.

Why fight it?

I skipped the panties and bra again today, slipping into my shortest denim skirt that barely covered my spankable ass. The fabric rode up with every step, teasing the air against my bare pussy. I paired it with knee-high white socks and sneakers, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, and topped it off with a deep-V halter that plunged low, my jiggling breasts threatening to spill out, cleavage on full display.

Perfect for a mall shopping trip.

Strutting through the crowded holiday aisles, I loved the stares. Guys’ eyes locked on my tits bouncing with each sway of my hips, and I could feel the cool mall air brushing my exposed ass cheeks when the skirt hiked up. My nipples hardened against the thin halter, poking through like invitations.

The thrill made my pussy throb, wetness already slicking my thighs. That’s when I spotted him, a chubby Santa in his 50s, fake white wig and beard slightly askew after a morning of kid photos. He was heading toward the back, looking tired, but his eyes lit up when they raked over me.

I sauntered up, heart pounding with excitement. “Hi, Santa,” I purred, leaning in so my cleavage brushed his arm. “Can I sit on your lap and get a big present?”

His gaze dropped to my tits, then lower, lingering on my skirt. A slow grin spread under that beard, and he nodded toward a side door. “Follow me, little girl. Santa’s break room is private.”

He led me into a small, dimly lit space with a worn couch, a table cluttered with coffee cups, and the faint smell of pine from his costume mixing with something muskier, sweat, maybe, from the heat of the suit. He plopped into a sturdy chair, the red velvet straining over his belly, and patted his thick thigh.

“Come here, little girl. Santa’s got your gift right here in his pants. Come on, get it.”

My pulse raced as I approached, the roleplay sending a fresh gush of heat to my core. I wanted this so bad, Santa’s experience, his dominance. Straddling his lap, I felt the hardness bulging under his trousers press against my bare pussy through the thin fabric. I ground down instinctively, moaning softly as his hands gripped my hips.

“Oh, Santa, I’ve been such a naughty girl this year,” I whispered, arching my back to push my tits toward his face. The halter top slipped lower, one nipple popping free, hard and pink.

He chuckled, deep and rumbling, his breath hot on my skin. “Naughty, huh? Santa knows. Look at these big, juicy tits, begging for attention.”

His rough hands yanked the halter down entirely, both breasts spilling out, heavy and full. He squeezed them hard, thumbs flicking my nipples, making me gasp. The pinch sent jolts straight to my clit. I rocked harder on his lap, feeling his cock twitch beneath me, the outline thick and promising.

Leaning down, I captured his mouth in a hungry kiss, tasting coffee and mint on his tongue. His beard scratched my chin deliciously, adding to the fantasy.

“I want my present now,” I murmured against his lips, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs.

My hands trembled with eagerness as I unzipped his Santa pants, fishing out his cock. It sprang free, fat and veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. God, it was bigger than I expected from his chubby frame, hot, throbbing in my grip. Usually, fat guys have smallish dicks, which I don’t mind cos I’m a slut, but this was massive.

“Suck it, little slut. Suck Santa’s candy cane,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, fingers tangling in my blonde hair. “Show Santa how much you want that gift.”

I didn’t need telling twice. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I swirled my tongue over the salty pre-cum, savoring the taste. Santa groaned, hips bucking slightly as I took more, inch by inch, until his cock filled my mouth, stretching my jaws. I bobbed eagerly, sucking hard, my cheeks hollowing. The wet slurps echoed in the small room, mixing with his heavy breaths.

His free hand roamed up my skirt, finding my soaked pussy. “No panties? Fuck, you’re dripping for Santa.”

Two thick fingers plunged inside me without warning, curling to hit that spot that made my eyes roll back. I moaned around his cock, the vibration drawing a curse from him. He pumped his fingers deep, thumb circling my clit, while I deep-throated him, gagging a little but loving the fullness. Tears pricked my eyes from the effort, but the burn only made me wetter, my juices coating his hand.

“That’s it, swallow my dick like a good girl,” he rasped, his grip tightening in my hair, guiding my rhythm. “Your mouth’s so fucking hot, tighter than any elf’s.”

The dirty words fueled me, my pussy clenching around his fingers as he added a third, stretching me. I hollowed my cheeks harder, tongue lashing the underside, tasting every ridge. My tits swayed with each bob, nipples grazing his thighs.

He tensed, breath ragged. “Gonna cum, little one, take it all.”

I nodded frantically, sucking deeper, and he exploded. Hot spurts of cum flooded my mouth, thick and bitter-salty. I swallowed hungrily, gulping it down, some dribbling down my chin onto my heaving breasts. He kept pumping his fingers, drawing out my own whimpering orgasm, waves crashing as my walls pulsed around him.

Pulling off his softening cock with a pop, I licked my lips, scooping the escaped cum from my chin and rubbing it into my nipples, the slick warmth making them shine.

“More, Santa?” I asked breathlessly, climbing back onto his lap, my skirt hiked up, pussy grinding against his thigh. His eyes darkened with fresh hunger, hand still buried between my legs.

His fingers twisted inside me, slick with my arousal, as I ground my bare pussy against his thigh, the rough fabric of his Santa pants scraping my sensitive clit. The aftershocks of my orgasm still tingled through me, but I wasn’t done, not by a long shot. His cock, still semi-hard from my mouth, pressed against my leg, twitching with renewed interest.

“More, Santa?” I breathed, my voice husky, nipples aching from the cum I’d smeared on them, shiny and sticky.

He smirked under that fake beard, his chubby fingers pumping deeper, making me whimper. “Greedy little cumslut, aren’t you? Santa’s not finished with you yet.”

The words sent a thrill straight to my core, my pussy walls clenching around him. But I needed to taste him again, to feel that thick shaft filling my mouth. With a reluctant moan, I slid off his lap, my heavy tits bouncing free, the halter top long forgotten around my waist. They jiggled with the motion, cum-smeared peaks drawing his hungry gaze.

Eagerly, I pushed the red velvet of his costume aside, bunching the fabric up to expose more of his belly and thighs. His cock lay there, thickening already, veins pulsing under the soft skin. Kneeling between his spread legs on the hard break room floor, my knees digging into the thin carpet, I felt exposed and slutty, exactly how I loved it. My skirt rode up, ass cheeks peeking out, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him in my mouth.

I leaned in, mouth wide open, breath hot against his skin. My tongue darted out first, swirling around the thick cock head, lapping up the remnants of his earlier load mixed with my saliva. It was salty, musky, intoxicating. I moaned low in my throat, the vibration humming against him as I circled the ridge, teasing the slit where fresh pre-cum beaded.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Santa,” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes, blonde hair falling messily around my face.

His hand shot out, gripping my hair tightly at the roots, the pull stinging just enough to make my pussy throb. “That’s right, little girl, worship Santa’s cock like the naughty whore you are,” he growled, voice rough and commanding, eyes dark with lust behind the wig. “Suck it harder. Deeper. Show me how bad you want your next present.”

The filthy words hit me like a spark, igniting that emotional rush I craved, the mix of being desired, used, and cherished in this twisted holiday fantasy.

Obeying, I parted my lips wider and took him in, inch by thick inch, until the head bumped the back of my throat. I gagged slightly, eyes watering, but pushed through, relaxing my jaw to swallow him down. My tongue licked every inch thoroughly, flattening against the underside as I bobbed, saliva dripping down his shaft to coat his balls.

The wet sounds filled the room, slurps and gasps, mingling with his grunts of pleasure. My tits swayed heavily with each movement, brushing his thighs, nipples hardening further from the friction and the cool air.

He bucked his hips up, forcing more into my mouth, his grip unyielding. “Gag on it, little girl, fuck, your throat’s so tight, like a virgin pussy.”

The roleplay deepened the intimacy, his dominance wrapping around me like the pine-scented costume. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, one hand wrapping around the base to stroke what I couldn’t take, twisting gently. The other slipped between my legs, fingers circling my clit, syncing with my rhythm. Juices slicked my thighs, the scent of my arousal heavy in the small space.

Tears streamed down my cheeks from the depths, but it only fueled me, the burn mixing with the ache in my jaw. I loved this, being on my knees for him, his chubby frame looming, beard tickling my forehead when he thrust.

“Good girl, take it all,” he rasped, free hand reaching down to pinch my nipple, rolling the cum-slick bud between his fingers.

Pain and pleasure blurred, my moans muffled around his cock, sending shivers through him. His breath came faster, belly heaving under the pushed-aside costume.

“Shit, I’m close again, swallow every drop, you cum-hungry slut.”

I nodded as best I could, eyes locked on his, the connection raw and electric. He tensed, hips jerking erratically, and then he came hard, flooding my mouth with hot, thick spurts. I swallowed eagerly, gulping it down, the bitter-salt taste coating my tongue. Some overflowed, trickling down my chin to drip onto my bouncing tits, adding to the glossy mess.

As he softened, I pulled back slowly, licking him clean, savoring the last drops. My body hummed with need, pussy clenching emptily, fingers still teasing my clit but not enough. I rose unsteadily, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, cum smearing further across my breasts.

“Santa, I need you inside me now,” I panted, straddling him again, guiding his hand back to my dripping pussy lips.

His eyes gleamed, cock already stirring against my thigh, promising more holiday indulgence. His fingers delved back into my soaked pussy, curling just right to hit that spot that made my knees buckle, but I wasn’t waiting anymore. The taste of his cum lingered on my tongue, thick and salty, fueling the fire in my belly.

I needed him buried deep, stretching me, claiming me in this dingy break room that smelled of pine and sweat. “Fuck your hand, Santa,” I gasped, shoving his chest with both palms.

His chubby back hit the chair with a thud, the fake beard shifting slightly as he grinned up at me, eyes dark with that dominant hunger. I straddled him fast, knees digging into the worn cushions on either side of his thighs, my short skirt hiked up around my waist like a useless belt. My bare ass cheeks pressed against his Santa pants, the fabric rough against my skin, but it was his cock I craved, now fully hard again, thick and veined, slapping up against my inner thigh as I positioned myself.