Chapter 1: Mrs. Claus Delivers a Wicked Gift to the Lonely Dad

Martin Briar
I sat in the recliner in the empty living room of my house, the lights off. Most of the furniture was gone. Just not my recliner. My bitch of a wife left me when she vanished. I went to work that morning for another fucking twelve-hour shift at TORAY, making carbon fiber material for airplane wings.

Another terrible day of hard labor, on my feet. I was tired, eager to kick up my feet, and came home to find the house cleared out. My wife and our three daughters all missing, their things packed up. Only my stuff remained, my clothes on the floor in the bedroom. She left me a mattress in there. A mattress and my recliner.

There was a note, too. “I’m divorcing you. I took the kids to your sister’s. We’re getting married.”

My wife left me for my dyke-sister. The fucking pariah of the family. A little whore that had always angered Mom and Dad. She would flaunt being a lesbian by sneaking girls into her room before she went off to college. Then it just grew worse.

When had my wife become a dyke, too?

I swirled the beer around in the bottle. There were a few on the TV stand I used as an end table. Two weeks, and my life had been turned upside down. I had been so excited. Christmas was coming up. I loved spending Christmas morning with my wife and daughters. I had bought that whore a diamond pendant.

The tree was still here. Decorated and flashing with lights. That slut knew she was going to leave me, and yet still went with me on my day off to get the Christmas tree with our girls, pretending we were still a happy family.

The flashing of the bright lights on the trees provided the only illumination. It was probably nearing midnight. I had to work all day today, but I had tomorrow off. What did it matter? To keep paying the mortgage on the house? The car payments? All that hard work for my family, gone.

I finished off the bear and stared to the fireplace. It didn’t work. The flue was broken. Cost too much damned money to fix it. Sherry was always on my ass to fix it so we could have roaring fires. She didn’t seem to care that there wasn’t enough money.

Not like she worked. She stayed home. Raised our three daughters. Took care of the home.

All gone.

Kelly, Megan, and Gabby. I closed my eyes. My youngest, fourteen, was a cute thing. Megan was a rebel, taking after my sister with dyed hair and a pierced nose. Still, she was sixteen and finding herself Kelly was the oldest, eighteen. A quiet girl with glasses who liked to read. She knew things. Always had a new fact to tell me.

I smiled for a moment before it faded. My daughters had agreed to this. They had let their mother convince them to stay silent and pack up behind my back. Was I that bad of a father? That horrible of a husband? I thought I did okay.

“Fuck,” I muttered. They didn’t even leave me with a fucking TV. Nothing to do but sit and doomscroll on the phone. They had all blocked me on Facebook, too. So had my cunt of a sister. My parents were in a tizzy. My friends were giving me looks.

I leaned back in the recliner, staring at the ceiling. The flashing lights of the Christmas tree played patterns on it. They shifted, almost hypnotic. My family was two states away. Fucking California. I wasn’t even sure. My sister was somewhere around LA. Thousand Oaks, maybe. Or the Palisades.

She had a big house. Got some money writing shit movies for and TV shows.

Somewhere, in the distant, bells chimed. I frowned at that. They were the jingle of sleigh bells. I straightened up, looking around. Had I gone crazy? Was it one of the neighbors fucking around? Maybe a father was pretending to be Santa Claus, coming to surprise his kids.

It was probably midnight, right?

Good dad. Hope his daughters aren’t ungrateful bitches.

The sleigh bells grew louder. They came from above me. I frowned, staring up at the ceiling. Something creaked up there. Was it the roof? Had someone gotten up on the roof? Why would anyone do that? Footsteps creaked.

“Ho, ho, ho,” drifted down the chimney. I frowned. It was hollow, but that didn’t sound like a man. “Merry Christmas!”

There came the cascade of soot. I closed the recliner and was about to stand when a figure in red with white fur trim burst out of my fireplace. I gaped at the festive figure before me. That was no Santa Claus. Or, it was a Santa Claus, but a female one.

She stood before me in a tight-fitting, red dress. It was low-cut to show off her very large breasts, the hem and neckline trimmed in red fur. She wore candy-striped stockings that vanished beneath her short skirt and knee-high, heeled boots polished to a stunning black. Her mature face wore a big smile. She had dainty glasses perched on her nose and blonde hair spilling around her face, a Santa’s cap perched on her forehead.

“Santa Claus?” I gasped in shock.

“Oh, no,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Claus, Santa’s wife. He deals with young men who have naughty wishes to fuck their mothers and sisters. I deal with the lonely men who ache to enjoy their daughters and get back at their ex-wives. It’s how we split things up. Tonight, he’s helping this boy named Dennis.” She giggled. “My husband’s probably got his cock in Dennis’s mom right now. He does like getting his payment. As for me...” She licked her lips. “Martin, I have a special Christmas gift for you.”

“I fucking drunk,” I muttered.

“You’re not that drunk,” she cooed and stood before me. She gripped the hem of her dress and drew it up, revealing her candy-cane stockings were, in fact, thigh-highs. “I’m not wearing any panties. Mmm, would you like to enjoy my cookie?”

My brain stuttered for a moment before registering what Mrs. Claus wanted me to do. To eat her pussy. I shuddered at that thought. Had I gone insane? I breathed in. She smelled of peppermint and evergreen. This heady delight. The Christmas lights danced across her skin.

I sank off the recliner and knelt before her. I licked my lips again, staring at the dark shadows between her thighs. Her big breasts jiggled. I heard bells tingling even though I couldn’t see them. I gripped her thighs. I breathed in. This time, a sweet aroma filled my nose. Heady and attractive.

I ducked beneath her skirt and pressed up between her thighs. I brushed a bell dangling from her pussy lips. It jangled. My lips found her cunt a moment later. Mrs. Claus shaved. Her sweet juices spilled into my mouth.

I licked through her folds, Mrs. Claus moaning, and brushed a small, round bell attached to a short chain pierced through her clit. That jangled when I brushed it. It rubbed against my face. I licked at her delicious pussy again.

“This can’t be happening,” I groaned, my hands sliding around her waist to grip her ass.

“It is,” Mrs. Claus purred. “Your wife and daughters were quite cruel to abandon you on Christmas. I have to make that up to you!”

“Yes,” I groaned, kneading her rump.

I licked at Mrs. Claus’s pussy, feasting on Santa’s Wife. Her delicious cookie tasted so sweet. I groaned, licking at her. The bell rubbed against my forehead, jangling as it moved. I groaned, feasting on her. My fingers dug into the MILF’s plump rump.

She moaned as I feasted on her. Her big boobs jiggled in her low-cut top. Her blonde hair spilled around her face. I loved the sounds she made as I feasted on her. I licked and lapped at her with such delight. It was such a treat to devour her.

She ground her cunt on me. I loved licking her. I tongued her with such passion. She moaned, her bell jangling. I licked and lapped at her snatch, gathering up her sweetness. This was Santa’s wife. That made this so fucking exciting.

“Oh, oh, Martin,” she moaned. “Mmm, Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho, that’s so good! Ooh, lick my cunt! Your wife’s such an idiot! Men are so much better at eating pussy than women! Oh, that stubble on my shaved cunt! Almost as good as a full beard.”

“Tell that to my wife,” I growled.

Mrs. Claus giggled and ground her shaved snatch on my face.

I stroked through her sweet folds, licking at the MILF’s cunt. The bell jangled against my forehead. I loved stroking my tongue through her petals. She tasted so good. The best cunt in the world. Santa Claus was a lucky man.

So was into get to feast on his wife’s pussy.

I plunged my tongue into her cunt and soaked in her sweetness. She whimpered as I did that. Her passion echoed through the room. I loved the sounds she made as I stroked around in her twat. I licked through her wonderful folds, feasting on her.

“Oh, oh, that’s it!” she groaned. “Don’t stop. Please, please, don’t stop eating me!”

“I won’t, Mrs. Claus!” I growled. “Does Santa devour your cunt like this!”

“Of course he does! Santa’s a stud!” She trembled. “Oh, oh, fuck!”

I buried my tongue into her cunt again, swirling around in her. Her bell tinkled as it rubbed across my forehead. I couldn’t believe that Mrs. Claus had piercings. That was so wild. She was a slut. I loved it. My dick was so hard in my pants.

My fingers dug into Mrs. Claus’s plump rump. My tongue stroked through her folds and brushed her pierced clit. She gasped as I stroked it, brushing the ring threaded through her bud attached to the small chain. Her charm jangled.

“Oh, oh, Martin!” she groaned. “That’s so good. Mmm, yes, yes, Martin, just lick my cunt. Feast on me!”

I devoured her. I licked through Mrs. Claus’s folds. I stroked around her pierced clit. I batted that ring, making the bell tinkle. The musical sound mixed with her growing moans. Her butt-cheeks clenched beneath my tongue.

That was hot to feel. I knew she was getting close to cumming. I wanted to drown in her pussy cream. That would be so hot. I nursed on her pierced clit, sucking on the golden chain. She gasped, her head throwing back.

“Oh, that’s it, Martin!” she purred. “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas!”

Hot pussy cream gushed out of her cunt.

I drowned in Mrs. Claus’s sweetness. I tongued the married woman’s pussy, gathering up her juices. She tasted so good. I loved the flavor of her twat. I stroked through folds as she trembled through the orgasm I gave her.