Mrs. Santa and One of Dolly's Favorite Movies

I love the movie "Bad Santa".  If you haven't seen it, SEE IT!  And not just because of the references to anal sex.  Lauren Graham, who is best known for being the young MILFy mom in Gilmore Girls, plays a bartender with a "thing" for Santa Claus.  "Fuck me Santa, Fuck me Santa, Fuck me Santa..." she pants in heat while Billy Bob is doing her in his Santa suit. 

As readers of my Blog know, I've always had a thing for Santa.  And at the not so tender age of nineteen I accomplished the goal of FUCKING SANTA!

Which brings me to another Christmas subject -- dressing up as a sexy Mrs. Santa (unlike Ms. Gilmore's character in the movie, who gets referred to as "Mrs. Santa's sister".  If you have to ask why, I repeat "SEE IT!").  After all, if you're Mrs. Santa, you get to fuck Santa all the time, right?  Well that was my thinking I guess when I bought the Mrs. Santa Dress.

Deep burgundy crushed velvet sleeveless, strapless dress trimmed in white, going just far enough below my ass to be decent but showing my toned thighs in a very sheer black-tinted stocking, black patent leather boots near the top of my calves, elf hat to match the dress, nails painted to match the dress, a dash of body glitter to accent the magic of Mrs. Claus...I just camp out at parties under the mistletoe and share delicious, wine inspired kisses.  If we've been at one of these parties together, you're welcome.


I was between boyfriends and husbands one year when my company signed on as a sponsor for a local children's charity empty stocking fundraiser (and fundraiser for the rest of the year, too -- kids in need are still in need on December 26th, please always be generous...okay, end of commercial, back to the lusty fun), and I went as Mrs. Sexy Santa's wife, and was doing a volunteer shift as a greeter, which allowed me not only to show the attendees where to find food, drink, or the collection bins for the toys, but I also got to see which men looked good, who didn't have a date, and frankly, which women looked good enough to eat, too.


Another tangent, but at least it is Christmas and sex-themed:  I would have totally seduced Elizabeth Banks when she was the sexy elf in the Vince Vaughn movie, "Fred Claus".


Back to the party, and generally, it wasn't a very sexy crowd by South Florida standards.  Plenty of eyeballs on me, but guys, try smiling, being witty, bring a girl a drink or make a joke when she's been on her feet for a long time.  Leering just ends up looking sleazy.  I'd probably have done several of those guys just to spite their bitchy wives who gave me the evil eye for having toned arms, a lean, fit upper back and shoulders display above the dress, and my endless sexy booted legs below the dress.  But the focus was on the kids, the lack of potential hookup partners wasn't very secondary, and we were raising great money through the silent auction. Dad putting up a three day charter of his own personal yacht and crew was helping a ton, that and Orange Bowl tickets, cruises, oceanfront resort accommodations, golf, more golf, dinner at exclusive restaurants... I was okay that I wasn't going to get laid and focused on the successful fundraising.


When what to my wondering eyes did appear but a really handsome guy, fortyish, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, a smile that would make his dentist boast and a body that, even in jeans and a polo shirt, was clearly the product of a lot of time at the gym.  He was carrying a garment bag, looked slightly frazzled, and wore a wedding ring.


"Hi, welcome, can I help you find something or someone?"


"Thanks, you sure can."  That smile.  Mrs. Sexy Santa (ME!) noticing her body moistening just a tad in response. "My wife is on the committee, volunteered me to be Santa, but didn't get around to telling me until this afternoon, so here I am, and where can I put on the Santa suit I've got here?"


Veteran readers are smirking, I know.  C'mon, play along like you don't know how this story ends. 


"Oh, well thank you Santa! Is your wife already here?"  I didn't recall who was in charge of getting a Santa this year.


"Actually, she texted me just as I gave the car to the valet that she was unexpectedly delayed at the office."


"Oh, I'm so sorry, I hope she'll be here soon, the party is fabulous and now we have Santa!"  I was in full-on hostess mode.  Which might have been why I was caught off-guard when Santa said to me, "Oh, she'll be a while; she's always late when she makes an excuse so she can fuck her boss."


I had to give some kind of a response to that.  "Well isn't that special."  I know, usually the Church Lady from SNL doesn't go with Mrs. Sexy Santa, but what do you say when a handsome guy blurts out that his wife is fucking her boss tonight? My body reacted differently than my mind, however, and I not only felt even more wet in my Mrs. Santa undies (red satin string bikini style panties, BTW), I felt a twinge and a tingle in my hoo-hah


I wrapped my arm in his, stood close and started to lead him toward the men's room where he could change.  "Why she'd be fucking her boss when she has a hot as hell husband I'll never know, but maybe you might find a present for yourself in your Santa bag tonight, and this will be a great party because you're here."


He smiled a bit.  "I shouldn't have said that about her, I don't know you.  I do love her, she's just got a thing for...being a bad girl.  I know a proper lovely lady like you can't relate."  Oh lord, did he have me NOT pegged!  I think my photo is in the dictionary by the definition of bad girl.


"You're a sexy man, I'm sure if she's married to you she's a sexy woman, and if it works for the two of you that's all that matters.  And don't judge a woman by her appearances, you might be surprised at who has a little bad girl in her!"  "Well, let me get ready.  And I can't imagine there's any present in the Santa bag as fun as Mrs. Claus looks."


 I love infidelity when it’s tacitly approved and generally forgiven, as my many dalliances generally have been.  Some of my hottest sex has been while describing the way in which another man fucked me while seducing my husband or lover.  I wondered if this guy and his wife were into that. And it seemed like he also sampled life's sexual pleasures from the variety platter, and that his wife was not the only one who got to find playmates.


He leaned in to be able to be heard, because it got louder as we got away from the lobby and into the ballroom toward the men’s and ladies' rooms. He signed, inhaled, and then said, "Sounds interesting.  I'm Bill." He inhaled again.  "And your perfume is intoxicating.  Since I'm Santa, given the way that sexy dress fits you like a sexy second skin, you look like you might be my wife for the rest of the party, what's your name?"  "Dolly."  Another deep inhale, and a warm, arousing exhale on my ear.  "See you in a minute, Dolly.  I mean, Mrs. Claus."


He came out several minutes later, and I'd used the time to touch up my makeup just a bit in the ladies room. Yes, I rubbed one out from how worked up I was over Bill.  Tried to stifle the urge to cry out. I hoped I was successful.  I know there were at least a few grunts.  Wonder if the sound carried through the wall.  His name was Bill.  Make me think of Billy Bob.  Fuck me Santa, Billy Bob. And there I was, already a veteran of fucking Santa.  But I'd never done it as Mrs. Claus!


I met Bill again when he emerged in his Santa suit, and once more slipped my arm into his and led him to the stage where the band wrapped up and I was handed the microphone and an announcement sheet.  A caterer's helper, one of those helpful people wearing all-black, brought out a huge canvas bag with a drawstring mounted on a rolling cart.  I announced that Santa had arrived and had some gifts for everyone, which in this case were stuffed Coca Cola Santa Claus dolls, courtesy of the local bottler, a sponsor of the event.  Just before I handed Bill the microphone so he could do a "Ho-Ho-Ho!" and start handing out the mini-Santa's, he bowed his head and through the fake white beard kissed my hand.  Sweet.


When his Santa task was done, I retrieved the mike, thanked him, reminded everyone that the silent auction had another twenty minutes and there was still plenty of dancing and refreshments, and then for a third time slipped my arm through Santa's.  Bill's arm.  The one I was already imagining pinning my wrist to the sheets above my head while his Santa cock filled me.


"You just made everyone happy, thank you Santa," I told him, and then I kissed his nose because I didn't want to get fake white beard fuzz on my lips.  He leaned in again.  I could hear him fine this time, but I welcomed the intimacy, and by this time  the feeling was mutual. "Thank you for the kiss.  And as sexy as your perfume is, combined with that sexy scent on your fingers when I kissed your hand, So that's what those muffled sounds were coming through the walls when I was changing.  Santa's sleigh is not all that's wooden."


Scent on my fingers...through the wall...oh God, I can't believe I didn't wash my hands after I dipped and frigged and twiddled and fiddled my pussy to a hot wet climax.  And Santa heard me!  My eyes grew wide.  Recovery time, I reminded myself. I am Dolly, after all.  "That's just Mrs. Claus' private scent for Santa Claus."  Bill's eyes were on my cleavage, and his Santa suit had a bulge where previously it had not. "Would Santa like to show Mrs. Claus what Mrs. Bill  is missing out on by being late tonight?  I've got a branch office of the North Pole upstairs with a view so that I wouldn't have to drive home.  Maybe you can drive something home up there?"


Santa smiled. Yippee!  I was going to get another entry on my fucking Santa resume.


Just then my eye saw an attractive fortyish brunette, a face looking devious and untrustworthy, looking just a tad disheveled in an otherwise tasteful little black cocktail dress enter the ballroom, eyes searching nervously.  Entering from the other side was a thirty-ish looking drone, tailor made suit, slicked hair, trying to look like that drunk baby-daddy who keeps knocking up Kim Kardashian's slutty baby-mama sister.  Bill saw my eyes, turned, and then looked back and nodded his head yes.  "Yeah, that's the "other" Mrs. Claus, so to speak, my wife and that slick fuck is her ladder-climbing boss, who specializes in sales and married MILFs".  I started to withdraw my arm, not wanting to make more trouble.  


Bill steadied and held onto my arm. "She'll be cool with it, Dolly.  I love the idea of her being desired that way.  She tells me all about it, and apparently he can compartmentalize well enough that its not a problem.  So don't worry about anything. After all, she's had her fun tonight.  She lets me have fun, too."  He led me to the elevator and paused, "do we need to get a purse or your keys?  Oh, and what floor?"


I let the doors close, pressed the concierge floor button, then took Bill's hand, briefly sucked his index finger, then slid his hand under the bottom white furry hem and up the highest couple inches of my stocking, then placed his fingers on my garter, the custom garter with a pocket that can accommodate a room card key.  I leaned in and kissed Santa again, right through the beard. We both ended up with a tad bit of fuzz on our tongues. The elevator opened and we made it to my room.


We stopped groping and making out like lustful prom dates who'd snuck upstairs long enough for Santa to hike up my Mrs. Santa dress.  "Fuck me, Santa" I begged him.  "All good things to those who wait," he replied as he started on his own Santa belt.  "Mmmm, Fuck me, Santa" I repeated.


"Have you been a good little girl?" he playfully asked.  "Oh no, Santa, I've been a very naughty Mrs. Santa.  Will you fuck my naughty pussy, Santa with your hard Santa cock?"  I replied in my little sex kitten voice.  He was down to his boxers, smeared and soaked through from pre-cum. I was still in my boots, stockings, and panties. I put his Santa hat back on him.  Bill put my Mrs. Santa hat back on me. We embraced, and I finally got to kiss him without that fake beard in the way, and my fingers wrapped around a nice, thick, warm pole of sex-meat. Santa moaned into Mrs. Santa's mouth as I stroked him, our tongues busy exchanging saliva in his mouth. I broke the kiss, which was difficult because he was sucking on my bottom lip.  "Fuck me, Santa." In all my full Lauren Graham splendor I was going to wear that line out that night, I promised myself.


I produced a condom from the little bag I'd left on the night stand before I'd gone downstairs to the party. He dropped his shorts, and in an instant, when his dick was in a stretched and filled condom, I started  to slide my panties down my slender, fit hips.


"No, no, leave them on, just nudge them to the side," Bill requested.  "Santa's too horny to wait. I want to fuck Mrs. Santa with her sexy Mrs.Santa outfit still on, all of it."


He fell backward onto the bed, and pulled me down on top of him. I was so wet, I lowered my body onto his North Pole, and rode, wriggled, and thrashed back and forth. I dug my nails into his nicely shaved chest and his hands cupped my breasts, unleashed from the Mrs. Santa dress' built-in cups.  We smiled.  "Fuck me Santa, Fuck me Santa, Fuck me, Santa" Santa grabbed a handful of my hair, pulled my face to his, and kissed me, more passionately and less angrily or lustily than I might have expected. He was fully into the sex, not holding anything back, and we both gasped and make whatever "I'm being fucked and want the world to know about it" noises that felt appropriate. We rolled onto our side, kissed over the shoulder in a contorted side saddle variation  and then we spun all the way over to missionary.  We were eye to eye, intensely fucking, getting sweaty, my panties pushed to the side, Mrs. Santa dress between our skin and I mixed in as many "Fuck me Santa's" as I could with the gasps and "Oh God's".  We eventually both reached climaxes together standing looking out the balcony toward the ocean view, a standing mish with my legs wrapped around his hips, booted legs locked behind his back and he supported my weight in his arms.  "Oh fuck I needed that!" he exhaled when we were both spent and collapsed onto our backs, hands still clasped. 


"Dolly, ride my face, I need to taste you again, your scent was such a turn-on from your finger earlier."


I straddled his face, and Santa licked me with eagerness, not much precision, but Mrs. Santa knew how to move to allow for the lack of practice on Santa's part and I ended up cumming on Santa's mouth as he struggled to taste me. Oh God this was hot, but we were pressing our luck, being away from the party.


 Bill and I showered together, and I knelt and took him in my mouth, but another load was not forth-coming before he started to soften a little, and I took his cock's head into my mouth and slowly ran my tongue over the entirety of the crown. Bill guided my face from his cock, and raised me up, and we kissed under the shower. His fingers got me into orbit.


We toweled off, and I did what I could with my hair to make it so that I didn't totally look like I'd been wildly fucked by a hot Santa. We put him back together, too. Still more Santa'ing to be done.  "I hope you'll agree to play Santa again next year." "Why of course, Mrs. Claus."


Later downstairs, as Bill made some more rounds as Santa, posing for some photos, I felt a touch on my elbow.  It was her, Mrs. Bill, his real wife, who'd been fucking her boss earlier in the evening.  She was very attractive, and up close her green eyes were alluring, her skin was a tinge toward olive toned rather than fair, just a hint of exotic.  Up close, I could see that she was fit, though maybe not as athletic as me, but for sure, this was a sexy woman that Bill was sharing with her boss.  She looked hot, like she was on the prowl. "I'm Hillary, You're also one of the volunteers, Dolly, right?"


Okay, I damn near sprayed my red wine everywhere when she said her name was Hillary.  Really?  Bill and Hillary? And they fuck around?  Some blog jokes just write themselves.


She continued, "My husband is Bill, tonight's Santa."  I was signaling with my hard at my ear that it was hard to hear her.


"Yes, I introduced him when he made his Santa entrance and handed out the Christmas toys earlier.  He's a lucky Santa, with such a lovely wife."  I practically had to shout.


I noticed Hillary's hand still on my elbow, and she guided me slightly toward a corner, and leaned in to be heard, "I couldn't find him for a while, and hot as it is in here, you seem fresh as a daisy.  He seemed pretty fresh too, which is a surprise since I know the Santa suit gets hot. I'm not a dummy, Dolly."  I was hoping she was as cool with everything as Bill was. "By the way, your scent is beguiling, its making me even more wet than I already was just from imagining that Bill must have been fucking you. Do you like women, too, Dolly?"


I swear just then the music switched to a recorded Hallelujah Chorus.  Or I imagined it.  Same difference.


Hillary continued, "I just wanted to let you know that I wish there was some video of the two of you, I'll bet you two together was one hot fuck.  Invite me next time, will you, Dolly? Oh, and I know he'll tell me all about you and him together later, so I hope you don't find that ungentlemanly, we would never tell anyone else, I promise. But I'm dying to know this -- did you keep some of the Mrs. Santa stuff on?  Bill and I love this movie called Bad Santa, have you seen it....?"


Merry Christmas to all, and to all, may all your Christmases be full of great sex!



Purely fictional fantsy for your reading pleasure!

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