Chapter 10
With a merry laugh, Santa rubbed his gloved hands together and asked, “Might I trouble you for some coffee?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “Just something to take the chill off, that’s all I need. I was glad to see your Opensign, believe me. I don’t relish another stop at Wal-Mart tonight. Too many people, to be honest, and the coffee’s not all that great, either. Patrick?”
“This is so cool,” I sighed. My body went through the motions of pouring the coffee without much help from my brain—I couldn’t stop staring at Santa. Chris as Santa, I corrected, but the thought wouldn’t stay in place. As I brought the coffee out to him, Santa sat down at one of the tables and leaned back, eyes shut, savoring the quiet and stillness of the moment. I set the coffee down in front of him and stood there, unsure of what to do. My blood raced with sudden lust—it was the Santa suit, definitely, and the fact that going down on a childhood icon was so inherently wrongthat I could’ve come just thinkingabout it. It was one thing to say yeah, I think Santa’s sexy, but it was another altogether to be standing here in front of him, my chances slipping away with each sip he took of his coffee. When he was finished the drink, then what? He took off the beard and became Chris again? I didn’t want that to happen, didn’t want the moment to end, but I stood like a little kid terrified in Santa’s presence now that it was finally my turn to tell him what I wanted.
Before I could think of anything to say or do, Santa opened his eyes and saw me still beside him. In a gravelly voice, he said, “It’s been quite a long time since you last sat on my knee.”
I almost creamed myself at the thought of snuggling into his lap. My voice sounded distant to my own ears when I replied, “I’ve grown up a bit since then.” But when he held out his hand, I took it and let him pull me down to sit.
His strong arm circled my waist. This close, it was impossible to look into his face, so I stared at the buttons on his coat instead, my fingers finding them among the fur as my hand trailed down Santa’s ample belly. When I reached his belt, I plucked at the buckle and tried to talk myself into going lower. I wanted to, GodI wanted to, I wanted to go down on this man as if to thank him personally for all the gifts I’ve ever gotten over the years. I wanted to find the zipper on his bright red pants, ease it down to expose his thick cock, and take him as far into my mouth as he could go. I wanted to taste him in the back of my throat, to feel him trickling into me, to have his large hands on me as I drank him in. As I stared at my hand on his belt, so close, so close, he whispered, “I know what you’re thinking, Patrick.”
Oh Jesus. The guilty look on my face made him laugh—not the affected ‘Ho, ho, ho’ of the mall Santas but a deep, belly-shaking chuckle that I felt in my bones. “You’re thinking that you’ve outgrown the holiday, isn’t that right?” Relieved, I tried to shake my head and nod at the same time, and my hand slipped to the bottom of his belt buckle. Closer now. The arm around my waist tightened. “You’re never too old for Christmas, Patrick. Remember that. The season of giving lives within you all year long.”
My hand slipped again, my fingers finding the outline of Santa’s dick in his pillowy crotch. “I have a little present for you,” I told him. His eyes went wide and I smiled as the cock in my hand moved beneath my touch. “A little thank you for all the things you’ve ever brought me. Like that bike, when I was twelve? And the Nintendo before that? All those G.I. Joes?” I watched him closely, the fear in his face relaxing as I stroked him through his pants. When he thrust into my hand, I knew I had him. I kissed his cheek—powdery and soft—makeup, I thought, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it. I wasn’t quite ready to give up this magical moment. Santa thrust against me again, hard and eager now, and I slid off his lap into the space between his knees.
I found his zipper, tugged it down, and the full length of his shaft swung into my face. Sticking out my tongue, I licked the tip of his cock, tasting salt and sweat and a hint of pre-cum. My hands encircled the base of his shaft and my thumbs rubbed maddening patterns through his pants into his soft balls. His cock bobbed in front of me and I caught the tip between my lips, kissing the bulbous head as I sucked at the slit beneath it. My thumbs worked at Santa’s testicles, kneading them, loving them, as the legs on either side of me spread wider. My tongue traced down his dick and back up the thick length, back to the tip, and once around the head before I took the plunge and took him in.