Roxanne was miffed. That asshole Rudolph kept getting the lead position every year simply because he was a male and had that stupid red nose. Hell, anyone who drank as much wassail as Rudolph did would have a red nose.

More than that, male reindeer don’t have antlers at Christmas. They had to cut off his antlers before molting and strap them on his head with duct tape so he would look like what everybody thought reindeer should look like. In fact, they did that for all the reindeer. As a reindoe, they wouldn’t have to strap fake antlers on her head, she could go au naturel, but she needed some way to make her nose red. She just had to break through that ice ceiling.

“Santa, why don’t you let me guide your sleigh tonight?”, she whispered seductively into his ear when he was feeding her.

Santa was no dummy. He knew damned well how badly she wanted to guide his sleigh. She had hinted around the subject so many times and had screwed the rest of the reindeer to their knees in her lobbying efforts.

“Wouldn’t you like to have me flying right in front of you, with your nose almost in my twat?”, she would tease Prancer and the others as they rutted with her. “Your tongue is long enough to get a few good licks in as we fly in front of the moon. Wouldn’t that be nice? Huh? How about it? Won’t you put in a good word with Santa, baby?”

Now Prancer was no dummy and he got nothing out of flying all over the world in one night, other than a little cheap publicity and a sore back where Santa’s whip took out little chunks when the old fart got tipsy on all the cider left out for him. The idea of flying right behind Roxanne’s sweet twat, close enough to lick, was very tantalizing to say the least. On the other hand, Rudolph was a sociopath who wouldn’t think twice about talking Santa into gelding Prancer if he thought he had sabotaged his gig.

The more Prancer thought about it, the more he realized that he was in a win-win situation. Roxanne had no way to know what he told Santa and neither did Rudolph. Even if Santa kicked Rudy to the curb, Rudy would have no way to know how Prancer voted.

“Ok, ok. You talked me into it. Now back up on this thing and let’s make some reinfawns.”

Roxanne dutifully backed up and up and up. (Reindeer have very long reinpricks.) It felt like it might be cumming out her mouth soon if she kept backing up. In fact, when her gag reflex kicked in, she imagined that reincum shot out of her mouth.

“My, that was tasty, Prancer. Don’t forget now, tell Santa you want me leading you by a nose. Got it?” She gave him a reinwink.

“Wouldn’t you like to have me flying right in front of you, with your nose almost in my twat?”, she teased Dancer as they rutted. “Your tongue is long enough to get a few good licks in as we fly in front of the moon. Wouldn’t that be nice? Huh? How about it? Won’t you put in a good word with Santa, baby?”

Little did she know that Prancer had spread the word and all the other reindeer knew what to expect, so they did the same thing Prancer had done and promised her anything as long as she would keep backing up and up and up until the cum shot out of her nose.

“Santa?”, mused Mrs. Santa, whose name was actually Mathilda. She was a formidable woman who kept Santa on a very tight leash. She was well aware of how many women would gladly do whatever for Santa in exchange for bright red shiny sports cars, Ermine and Mink coats, diamonds and rubies. She also knew how exhausted he was when he returned home on Boxing Day. She used to think that this meant that there would be fights all over after everybody learned that their friends spent less on them than they had spent on their friends. Then she learned that this was the day everyone put their tawdry gifts back in the box and returned it to the stores with a bit of backsheesh to turn it into something they really wanted.

“What, Dear?” Santa was no dummy. He had trained his mouth to respond any time her lips moved so she would think he was listening.

Mathilda was no dummy and thought she would have some fun. “Have you noticed how the reindeer rut with Roxanne? They ram those big things in her, then she moves back and back and back until it looks like they will come out her mouth? In fact, it sometimes looks as if cum shoots out of her nose, although that would be impossible, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, Dear”. He had it down to a science. Little did she know that the glasses he was wearing were one of the most sought after gifts of the year. They had a VR display built in and he was watching some very randy videos while she thought he was talking to her. If he could just keep her from seeing the tent in his red uniform, everything would be all right. He absentmindedly picked up a little female Elf and sat her in his lap to hide the gift he was planning to present to Mrs. Santa tonight. However, the female Elf seemed to be uncomfortable and kept squirming around, making his problem harder and harder.

To test her hypothesis that Santa wasn’t paying attention, Mathilda murmured, “Roxanne seems to be enjoying herself so much that I’m thinking about trying to do the same thing she is doing. Would that be ok with you, Dear?”

“Yes, Dear”. Santa was not about to interrupt the flow of her speech, regardless of what she was saying. Most likely, she was asking for more chrome on her sleigh or another dozen housholed Elves. <It was a typo, but I left it in because I thought it was funny.>

Seeing that Santa was too involved with the Elfish helper on his lap and whatever he was watching on those stupid VR glasses, she pushed the envelope a bit further.

“I think I will go out there and see how that feels for myself. Do you mind?”

His “Yes, Dear” did not mean that he minded. It only proved her supposition that she could do whatever the hell she fucking well pleased and he would not have a clue as long as that little Jezebel of an Elf ground her impossibly tiny twat down on his tent. Mathilda had not the slightest fear that Santa could gain entry to that little portal, but she might have some stinky laundry to do when she got back. “Oh, well”, she was out the door with only one very, very, very long thing on her mind.

She picked out Blitzen, knowing full well that this was the German word for Lightning. She was ready for some lightning in her thighs. “How about it, Blitzen. How would you like to get some of Mrs. Santa with that very, very, very long thing you have hanging there”

“I’m thorry, Mithuth Thanta. I don’t thwing in that direction.”

“Shit! Of all the luck, to pick out the one reingay.” She approached Donner.

“I’m thorry, Mithuth Thanta. I don’t thwing in that direction, either.”

“Shit! Just my luck. Who would have thought there were two reingays?”

“Well, you know that Donner is the German word for thunder, don’t you?”

“Ok, ok, I get it. Donner and Blitzen, thunder and lightning always go together, don’t they?”

“Thath right”, they echoed in unison. Mathilda went looking for some available reindick.

She approached Vixen and began fondling his reintube. “W-what’s this?”, she cried, when the phony reintube fell off in her hands.

“I’m so embarrassed, Mrs. Santa. Nobody was supposed to know that but Santa. I’m a female and he was doing his bit for equal opportunity reideering.”

“Bullshit! That old fart only responds to pussy. He doesn’t give a shit about equal opportunity of any sort except opportunity to sheath his grotesque sword.”