Sitting on Santa’s Lap

Rose remembered visiting Santa at the mall every year since she was five years old. Photos proved that she’d been doing it her first four years of life, too, but she didn’t personally recall those times. And it was probably for the best because she never liked sitting on a strange man’s lap. This year, it was different.

Instead of sitting on a stranger’s lap, she was sitting on her father’s as he fucked her in his arm chair with her male family members, best friend’s father and brother, and some of her father’s friends watched, their own cocks in their hands as they waited for their turn.

Her mother and the rest of her female relatives were either passed out from drinking too much wine, although she suspected the men had added something extra, or were still on their vacation—a shameless bribe so their husbands and sons could openly play with their newest fucktoy: her. Her brother stood in front of her and held out a a red velvet strip of fabric that look like it was cut from one of their childhood Christmas stockings. He tied it over her eyes, blocking her vision. Then she felt something cold press against her lips. She opened her mouth, having learned in the past few weeks that it was better to just give into his ministrations. Then she felt him clipping things behind her head and realized he’d put some kind of gag-mask on her.

She felt her father thrust into her extra hard and unload in her, his cum leaking out of her even as he did so. Then he pull her off his cock and she was positioned over a cold surface—the coffee table—making her nipples harden against the glass. She felt another set of hands press something cold and hard against her ass. Tears welled up in her eyes and she whined around the gag in her mouth as the hands pressed it all the way into her, filling her to the point of uncomfortable fullness.

Someone reached for her hands, stretching her flat against the coffee table as someone else took up the spot behind her. She yelped, or at least tried to around the gag, when the mystery cock thrust into her in one move.

She heard the sound of a video camera turn on and jerked at the unexpected noise.

The man fucking her grabbed her hair, forcing her to arch her back and allowing him to slide deeper inside her. “Didn’t you know we were filming you, sweetheart? It’s everyone’s souvenir to remember this very Merry Christmas.”

That was her uncle’s voice. And the idea of the twenty men being able to watch her get used whenever they wanted made her twisted mind even more aroused and sent a new wave of wetness between her thighs.

Her uncle growled in her ear. “That turns you on, doesn’t it? My sons told me about what a performance slut you were. You loved being watched during your trip to New Orleans, didn’t you?” All she could do was moan, which seemed to urge him on as he began to fuck her faster.

She heard her cousin Cameron say, “Don’t break her, Dad. We’d like our turn today, too.”

Her uncle chuckled, making a shiver travel through her spine. “Don’t worry, boy, you’ll get her next. Just let me make up for my missing her special birthday celebration.” He grabbed her shoulder and began fucking her even faster. Soon she felt her uncle climax and came in her. He kissed the back of her neck and pulled out of her.

She felt the hands holding hers let go and felt her being lifted, then laid down. She was not prepared to feel someone’s mouth on her, jerking as the mystery man’s tongue ate the cum out of her, sucking her clit and tongue-fucking her as he did so, making her thighs shake as an orgasm loomed near. When he gently bit her clit, she was done for.

Rose couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. Man after man fucked her, occasionally one of them would eat her out, and the orgasms kept her in an endorphin high that had her wondering if she ever wanted the holiday to end.

Spice up your Christmas with this little game. Get free shipping on purchases $50+ with the code FREESHIP

4 thoughts on “Sitting on Santa’s Lap

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

%d bloggers like this: