Christmas Comes Again

by HAL

Copyright© 2015 by HAL

Erotic Sex Story: A man thinks back to the best Christmas he ever had, locked in a department store with two girls

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Fiction   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   .

Christmas is back, I smile benignly on my family as they open their presents; people make the same fatuous comments about the grandchildren liking the boxes better than the toys, the turkey is dry and overcooked (my daughter really can't cook); someone says "well, no white Christmas this year" and we sink into a semi-drunken stupor watching stupid films about Santa Claus and snowmen coming to life, and elves and crap. And I smile through it all. Once a year I allow myself to remember my best Christmas ever.

I was at university, final year, staying up to 'study' (party). But I needed money so I applied to the local department store and found myself the new Father Christmas. The old one – he'd done it for several years – was ideal; old, rotund, hairy; he also had a heart attack and keeled over dead in front of the kids in the first week. Not good for kids to see Santa die in your store!

The shop didn't want to risk that again so they took me on with plenty of padding and false beard. Luckily I have a deep voice so "Ho Ho Ho" was acceptable. This was before police checks and stuff, kids could sit on my knee and I'd smile and mumble in an old-person kind of way and everybody was happy and one of my elves would give them a present from the girl dustbin or the boy dustbin. You didn't need a degree for this, you needed patience, a change of clothing (for the inevitable accidents that mummy's little darling had). And you needed elves. Clare and Sarah, twins with luscious auburn hair, lithe, quite boyish figures – elves don't have large busts and hips do they? – and artificial pointy ears. They had the kind of elf uniform a dirty old dad would wish on a girl elf. Short green tunic that barely covered their perfectly rounded bottoms, green tights and green high heels. Have you ever seen an elf in a fairy story in high heels? No, still, I wasn't complaining. I wondered if working with these two was too much for the other Santa. They took it in turns, one would go up to the next child and bend over for a brief chat (the kids would tell an elf what they wanted when they sometimes got tongue tied with me) flashing a copious amount of thigh and more sometimes. I played a game to see if I could tell what colour knickers they had on under the tights – oddly there was no requirement to wear green – mostly they were white, sometimes other colours. Once Clare confided that she'd worn black but they showed up too much so she'd taken them off. Was I imagining it or could I see the faint pink tint of naked buttock under the green tights? The other elf would supply me with a present for the child on my knee or standing by me.

We worked well together, the three of us, 10 to 6 every day, long days with 45 minutes for lunch and an occasional comfort break (even Santa has to pee – actually knowing his age he probably has to pee all the time! I know I do now).

The fathers (mostly only at weekends) would often try and position themselves to get a better view – nonchalantly moving round to 'get a better picture' of their little cherub – but the old man in red on his chair could see quite clearly that their eyeline was pointing at a girl's arse rather than their child's head. The mothers were more varied, some barely noticed, some clearly disapproved of the girls attire. Oddly only one mother told her child not to sit on my lap – a more innocent time you see. And there was really nothing to worry about, I'm not into children like that, never was. Sorry, starting to ramble. I do at my age you know.

Clare and Sarah were also students – as I say, they were identical twins, Clare was studying theoretical physics and Sarah was studying English Literature. Me? Biology. At lunchtime we'd sit in a corner of the canteen reading, one reading about the latest string theory, Sarah was reading Madame Bovary – for pleasure!, and I was struggling to be interested in the Selfish Gene – boring, boring, boring. Anyway we probably seemed a bit elite-ist and standoff-ish. We didn't talk to the other staff. They all had to clock in and out. We were on such short contracts that we just turned up. As long as we were available from 10 until 6 and no parents complained about anything we were left to run our little temporary grotto ourselves. It was hard work – okay not in the deep sea fishing or mining type of hard work but still it was hard smiling for 7 hours 15 minutes a day – but fun. The girls made it more fun for me. While I wasn't an out-and-out science geek, I wasn't what you'd call a ladies man. Score upto then was 3 one night stands, and one (chaste) long term girlfriend – a Baptist with a figure to die for and, sadly, very high principles. It didn't last more than 6 months. Sorry, rambling again.

Christmas Eve the shop was due to shut at 4, by 3 the shoppers were thinning out and by half past many of the counters were surreptitiously clearing up. Only our little grotto had a queue of the last few tired parents and children. "Will you remember where I live tonight?","Don't you need some sleep before tonight", some of the brighter children asked. Waffle, waffle, ho ho ho. At 4 there were still 4 children in the queue; call us soft, we couldn't let them down. So it was 4:15 when 'Santa had left the building' was put up for the final time that year. By that time there was a danger of being drowned in the flood tide of employees heading for the doors.

We went up to the changing room. In past years this had been the male and female toilets, but last year a girl had gone in as an elf was disrobing, apparently it took some explanation to clarify why an elf's ears were removable. This year a small storage room had been made over for us to switch out of and into day clothes. The girls let me go in first so I waited when I came out. It was 5 before we headed for the doors.

Locked! Bugger! Back up the stairs, across the bridge to the loading bays and the old staff entrance. That was locked too! We tried 3 other exits before realising that the lack of a clocking-in card meant that nobody had noticed we hadn't left the shop. We were stuck.

I rang the security man from an office. He was one of the few people with one of these new carryable phones (so he could be contacted anywhere). Down the corridor a phone twittered. The bloody man had left it in his office – he wasn't going to be disturbed at Christmas! Clare then tried the Personnel Officer's home number (this was before we all just became human resources – though at that moment we felt like the rubbish that was waiting to be put out), no answer. Found out later she had been tippling with every department that day. Everybody had a glass of sweet sherry (yuck!) or red wine, the company turned a blind eye and the customers didn't mind a rosy glow on the employees' cheeks on Christmas Eve. But Miss Bickerstaffe had been sharing the Christmas cheer with every department through the day, drove half way home, left the road to explore a ditch with her car and would spend Christmas in a cell waiting to be charged with drunk driving. This was the last year the store allowed drink on the premises, but they did keep her on which was more supportive that most companies nowadays. What? Oh, yes, the story.

I rang 999 – emergency – "we are stuck in a shop". "I'm sorry, which service? Fire, Police or Ambulance". "We are locked in". "Have you been drinking sir?" "No, ... well a little, but that's not the point" "This is for emergencies sir, if you call again I'll have you arrested, now be a good boy, hang up and enjoy Christmas without being a nuisance"

So that was it. This was Friday, the shop wasn't due to reopen until Monday – again, more innocent times when Boxing Day was a day off, not a chance to fleece customers with pretend sales. Actually Boxing Day must have been Monday because I don't think you can have Boxing Day on a Sunday ... but I digress.

The canteen fridge was well-stocked with turkey sandwiches, I switched the coffee machine on (Clare : "Won't we get into trouble if we switch on the equipment? We might break it" Me : "Alternative is to drink toilet water for 3 days" Clare : "Fair enough") We carried food from the canteen, bedding from the bedroom department, lamps from the Camping and a TV from the Electrical Dept down to our grotto. Not sure why, we felt somehow more at home there.

Of course the heating went off. When it came round to bedtime we were already under duvets, but there was a general agreement we should snuggle up together to stay warm – got my vote! For some reason it was also felt we should undress to stop our clothes from smelling. Normally I'd found that some alcohol fuelled a girl's willingness to lose clothing, but we were all stone cold sober. I found myself in the middle, between two lovely lasses in their underwear. As expected they had narrow hips, and small breasts, Clare wore white pants and white bra which lifted her and emphasised what she had, Sarah was in a more lacy affair, more revealing thin cloth did nothing to hide the nipples peeking through, her knickers were (as I'd surmised earlier when she was doing the greeting sessions) purply lace which hid only the front of her from my prying eyes – the back view was clear, see through and I had to concentrate not to get excited. Nothing was going to happen after all, it was just to keep warm and there were two of them and I was sure that no man would ever be able to slide so much as cigarette paper between the two of them as they were so close. All perfectly innocent. And it was. Until one of them accidentally slid her hand over my cock (outside my pants obviously). It had just been waiting for this I guess. In seconds it was embarrassingly standing to full attention. I tried to think it down before Clare or Sarah realised but the inevitable happened, one of the touched my stomach as she tried to get comfy ... and found her hand obstructed by the biggest boner I've ever had. Nothing I could do. The lamps showed my face glow brighter red than my Santa costume. But the girls reacted differently to what I'd expected (horror, shrieks, disgust), Sarah slid her hand down the shaft and Clare leaned over and kissed me in a way which I believe romantic novels call 'frankly'. In other words, her lips compressed mine roughly and, as my mouth opened a little, her tongue inserted itself and caressed my teeth.

I took this as a green light, the more so when one of them (which one? I had no idea) whispered "we're both on the pill but, umm, you'd be the first. Is that okay?" Is that okay? IS THAT OKAY? I could have come there and then if this had been a dream; but it was far too good to waste – I was pretty sure I was a single shot gun so I didn't want to spoil it. I slid my hand between Clare's legs and her tongue became more insistent. The next thing one of them said was "Elves have to do whatever Santa tells them to, no questions asked". I was sure I'd wake up soon. I genuinely pinched myself. I was wide awake. Sarah slid her hand off and said "I'm sorry, before we carry on I need a, umm call of nature, but I don't want to go up there on my own".

We stopped, picked up the one torch we'd taken and set off down the long dark corridor. I had to promise not to frighten them and, tempting as it was, I realised there were more rewards in being the responsible he-man, I didn't need to terrify them into my arms, we'd moved straight past that stage!

The Ladies were locked, so were the Gents. The only place available was the cleaners' room with a big sink with bars over the top for squeezing out the mops. Since they didn't want to be alone I had to go in; since we only had one torch I had to shine it on the sink so they could see what they were doing; since I had red blood, not ice, in my veins I watched; they guessed I was watching and I could tell they were just a little embarrassed and just a little turned on. There was nothing to dry themselves with. I took off my pants and let them use them. I was poking out the top of them anyway. I really wanted to go to, but I was rock hard. No chance of a pee until I'd shed my load.

Back we went to the grotto and, without further ado, got down to business. There was no stopping them and nothing they wouldn't do! I got the feeling they'd pleasured each other before, though they acted shocked when I suggested it. But they started on each other with a skill and dexterity which suggested the only new thing was an audience. Clare took off Sarah's bra and then slid hers off too so they could caress each other's small perky tits. The 4 nipples beckoned me to suck, lick, flick, nibble. But I was getting in the way, audience participation would come later (come later! Get it? Ha ha), Laying Sarah on her back Clare slid down to her panties and drew them down to reveal a full bush of the same auburn shade as her head. Shaved pussies just never did it for me, give me a gardeners delight between a girl's legs and I'll give you a solid wooden phallus between mine. She buried her head into her sister's groin and Sarah began that groaning sound which women give off when they are in a state approaching ecstasy. Not that stupid "oh yes, oh yes" you get on porno films; an animal, guttural noise that says they are back in their most primitive state of sating carnal lust to the exclusion of anything else.

As she came, Sarah went stiff, arched her back and let out a long sigh of utter contentment. I've rarely been able to draw that from a woman, but when I have I know I've done my job well. There was a brief rest of petting, kisses, caresses and then Sarah rolled Clare onto her back, pulled off her panties and gave her the same pleasure. Clare's bush was more shaped, maybe physicists like more control, she'd trimmed it into a neat triangle of curly brown, glistening hair. Glistening because she was leaking like a good-un. She was up for it and ready to explode. Sarah inserted a finger into Clare's exposed vagina and licked up the slit, flicking the clitoris with her tongue in a way that said she could do this for a very successful living. My eyes travelled down Sarah's back to her buttocks and the neat folds of skin I could see in front.

"Ooooo" Sarah said, her head came up as I inserted a finger into her tight, wet cunt. With my other hand I gently pushed her head back into the cave made by Clare's legs and body. I pulled out my finger and tasted my first female cum. It wasn't that nice, but it was an erotic wet dream that I was able to taste it at all (like smoking, or beer, it was something one had to become used to, by the end of that weekend I was an addict). My finger went in again and this time when it came out wet and greasy I noticed the other entrance, that round, brown eye just peering out at me. I inserted my lubricated digit a little way. Once again Sarah's head came up; this time in surprise, she hadn't expected that (neither had I, anal wasn't on the list of many young students then, at least not in my circle), I set her back to her task and started exploring her anus more thoroughly. Taking more and more of her vaginal juices I got as far as two fingers well in before Clare came with a more explosive noise that her sister. It was good we were far from anybody's hearing as Clare's orgasmic shout would have woken the dead. Before Sarah could think about what I was doing I was doing it. She had positioned herself on her knees before her sister, head down. The perfect presentation for me. Two fingers wasn't really enough but I couldn't wait any longer and pushed in.

"Ooow!!"

"Should I stop?"

"No, but, no, that's, ohhh, that's weird, and yes, keep pushing, oh, yes, I didn't know you could do ... oh. Rub me, rub me someone!!!!"

Clare and I respectively reached up and round to stroke her, our hands touched and Clare took my fingers and inserted them into Sarah, deep into Sarah, while she stroked her and I pumped her.

She came with more noise, like a steam train exhaling after a long pull. And still I was pumping into her arse. I think it was only now that Clare realised where I was. I was beside myself, so hard I was finding it hard to actually come. Clare moved round and I felt a finger insert into my anus. That was enough and I exploded into her sister. I felt like she should have shot across the room with the force that I came. Her sister withdrew her finger, Sarah dropped onto her front (pulling off my slightly less turgid member) and white spunk started to leak from her. I dropped down beside her. Once again my pants were used to wipe up the mess – girl's sexy, lacy pants just don't have the absorbent power of a good pair of Y-fronts.

The three of us slept well, though I had to take that long walk to the cleaner's sink after half an hour.

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