Chapter 5

She had tensed, squirmed and squealed ten times before he felt the unstoppable urge to spew. He had loved watching her have all those orgasms. He had also been amazed that he didn't grow weary, or have to rest. It was almost detachment, but not quite. He'd felt wonderful sliding in and out of her clasping, hot flesh ... feeling her soft skin moving against his ... loving the way her hands stroked his back and urged him to move in just this way, or that, as she learned how to use him to push her over the edge again and again.

Now, though, as he felt that incredible urge to cum in her, his mind flitted to that place that had made him a good soldier ... that place where he was aware that his actions had consequences, and that he was responsible for them.

"Do elves use birth control?" he panted.

"Yes," she gasped.

He groaned and gleefully let himself go, driving deep and spurting what he suddenly thought of as eggnog into her willing body. It was made even better when, as she realized what was happening, she grasped his hips with suddenly powerful hands and pulled him into her.

"We start on our two hundredth birthday," she panted.

His mind whirled as they caught their breath. She wanted many, many kisses, and was just as passionate as she'd been during their lovemaking. Between kisses - he couldn't think of anything but those kisses as they were experienced - his mind switched between pondering why she would let him fertilize her at such a young age (?!) and whether it was time to go back to subbing for Santa. At the fringes of his mind there were troubling issues. Where was his unit? What did they think had happened to him? Were they searching for him? How was Santa? What would the elves do with him when this night was over and they returned to the North Pole? Why was he still hard, after so long inside her, and an orgasm that had to be rated as the best he'd ever had? Were elves and humans even compatible, in terms of fertilization?

"It's probably time to go," he said, finally.

She rolled on top of him and reached for her clothes. She wore a little fanny pack with her elf uniform, and inside that was a timepiece. She peered at it.

"We have six hours left," she said, squirming on top of him.

"You're kidding!" he gasped.

"You're hard," she commented. "And you're wasting time."

He lost count of the number of orgasms she had.

But when she finally stood and barked at him to get moving, he'd spurted in her six more times.

It was incredible.

He was still hard.

And there wasn't a single drop of his eggnog leaking from those tightly closed pussy lips, beneath that lime green pubic hair.

Sometimes, when the button was pushed, they were sitting on a new roof instantly. Sometimes it took a while. "A while" could range between thirty seconds and three or four minutes. You never knew. They just chatted between stops, however long that was.

They were doing that when a ball of roaring light flew by the sleigh, reaching higher into the sky.

"What the fuck?!" gasped Bob.

"That must have been a missile," said Gwyneth, excitedly. "We see them on the scopes back at the pole, but I never realized how big and loud and scary they are in real life."

"Who's shooting missiles at us?" squawked Bob. He reached for the reins to the sleigh automatically. It was the first time he'd felt the need to do that.

Gwyneth leaned forward and peered at a readout on the dashboard.

"Palestinians," she said. "They always shoot at us. So do the North Koreans. Others too, if they can get their hands on something to launch. Sorry. I wasn't paying attention, or I'd have warned you."

"Fuck, Gwyneth!" he yelled. "We could be blown out of the sky!"

"Not really," she said. "The sleigh has radar, and technology that automatically takes evasive action to avoid missiles."

"I didn't feel it jerking us around," he said, looking over the side of the sleigh.

"You think a sleigh capable of carrying presents for every boy and girl on the planet has weak shocks? The frame of this baby was engineered by the best, Bob."

"Here comes another one," said Bob, seeing the ball of light flare at ground level. It was odd, because while he knew, academically, that it was a missile coming at them, all it looked like was a ball of light that was getting bigger and bigger. His gut tightened, but the ball seemed to wander off to one side. It flashed by, roaring. The fire from it felt like the sun on his face on a warm day.

"They're so pretty!" squealed Gwyneth.

"If the sleigh can avoid missiles, why did Santa cave to the American government on the rest restrictions?" asked Bob.

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy your rest stop?" she asked. "And that you never want to take another one?"

"Oh," said Bob. "Point taken."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. Her hand drifted to his lap and squeezed the erection he hadn't even been aware he had.

"Right answer," she said.

Bob stood back up from where he'd been sprawled on the driver's seat, with Gwyneth between his legs. She was still kneeling on the floor, licking her lips. The orgasms she gave him with her lips were still intense, but they didn't leave him helpless any more, like the first one.

"Thank you," she chirped, as he put his pants back in order.

"Thank me?" He laughed. "All I did was sit there."

"Not true," she said. "You produced another yummy treat for my tummy."

He leaned over to check the route status board. They were within four million homes of finishing the route.

The sleigh stopped with barely a whisper on yet another roof. Somehow, the sleigh seemed to know when Gwyneth was sucking another helping of eggnog from his balls, because they never arrived at a new destination before he fired off in her mouth and she swallowed it all down. He looked at the roof. It looked just like millions of others had.

"Come with me this time," he said, as he reached into the bag.

"I can't," she laughed. "I'm not Santa."

"Come with me," he said again. "I'm Santa, and I say you can come with me."

"It doesn't work that way," she said, smiling.

"How do you know?"

"Because it doesn't."

"Didn't you say nobody has ever gone with Santa before this?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then how do you know you can't go with me?"

"It's never happened before," she argued.

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The Bob Claus

Lubrican

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