The Truth About Santa: A Memoir by Mrs. Claus

For Sir, V and Q.

 

“A deliciously, delightful romp!” – The New York Times

“This is hilariously adorable. We can’t wait to hear what Mrs. Claus has to say next.” – The Washington Post

“This is better than Fifty Shades!” – Stephanie Meyer

 

There’s so much you don’t know. Everyone thinks that Santa is this wholesome, loving role model who works tirelessly throughout the whole year, checking on children to make sure they’re behaving and rewarding all the good little boys and girls. Well that’s not the case at all. I’m going to spill it all, right here, right now because I’m sick of the lies. Honestly, I’m sick of being the only one who doesn’t seem to get any credit!

Santa is a farce. The North Pole is a corporation, not a place of magic. Well, okay, the magic is real, how else would they make and deliver all those toys. But, the North Pole Corporation does make plenty of profits from Christmas royalties and whatnot. The whole staff is compensated quite well, as you can imagine, even those stinky reindeer!

You’ll also be surprised to find out that I’m not even his wife. I know, it’s hard to believe. I’m just a woman hired by The North Pole’s PR company to play the part of his wife. I fit the description of the soft, grandmotherly type, I have no immediate family to discover my secret, and I’m young enough to last a few seasons while still looking old enough to play the part. I was cast about ten years ago, and I’ve probably got another fifteen or so left, but I’m sick of this game. I’m out and I’m bringing the whole operation down with me!

Okay, Santa’s a great guy, but he’s not a saint! He’s just this guy picked to play a part, and yeah he does it well, but why does he get all the credit? I’m just chopped liver over here, getting a paycheck to be this man’s wife while he’s out diddling the elves. Where’s the fun in that? Oh, and Santa isn’t even fat! He wears a fat suit, like in the movies. And, his beard is fake. Underneath all that hair and makeup he looks just like a regular guy, mid forties, average build. I mean, he handsome, but he’s no Chris Hemsworth.

Okay, I don’t think I’m really getting my point across. Let me put it to you this way. Santa is human, and he has human needs. Just like any other person, he likes to have sex and lots of it. And those Elves are so damn horny, it’s a wonder anything ever gets done around here. You should have seen him at last years company holiday party! It was in July, because at the North Pole, Christmas in July is a real thing. We were on the North Pole campus in the office break room, which looks more like the Great Hall at Hogwarts. I believe J.K. Rowling based her description of the Great Hall after our break room, now that I think about it. She visited the campus a few years before the first book was published. Anyway, the fires were roaring, the candles were hovering overhead, casting merry shadows all over the happy faces of the North Pole employees. A band of Elves played cheerful music and the tables were covered with a feast fit for, well the North Pole, honestly. I’m sure you can imagine.

Those Elves are into some serious shit too, let me tell you. So, in Hogwarts’ Great Hall, you know the stage where all the professors sit? It’s entirely different at the North Pole, and thank goodness Ms. Rowling left this part out or else her children’s book wouldn’t have made it very far. In our break room, the stage is set with spanking benches, St. Andrew’s Crosses, suspension points, cages, and sex machines. Yeah, those Elves, they really like some pain with their pleasure. Our holiday parties are very interesting to say the least. I did not know I would get such an education so late in my life!

Last July was a night to remember, let me tell you! Santa came with these three naughty little elves. Tart was the tallest, slim with long, shapely legs, brown hair that fell to her shoulders and the biggest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. Her shy smile was misleading, because this one is a freak to be sure. Clementine had blonde chin length hair and almond shaped blue eyes that seemed to draw you in the moment she caught your gaze. Her figure made me long for the days of my youth, round and full in all the right places if you know what I mean. Then there was Bubbles, the oldest of the three, but hell if she didn’t fit right in. Long, wavy hair, big green eyes and a butt that could crush roasted chestnuts by the pound. They were all dressed in matching outfits, ridiculously revealing, but devilishly cute. I must admit that I envied them, carefree, excited, their faces flushed with the joy and happiness of the season. Seeing them like that made me yearn for those days once more.

Santa and the girls were inseparable all night, stealing kisses, sneaking a hand up a skirt for a tushy squeeze, and once I even saw one Elf slide a finger into the others panties. She pulled it out glittering with dampness and fed it to her plump pink lips. As if we weren’t all trying to enjoy a nice holiday meal! They were all sexed up and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The three girls kept sneaking off to the bathroom together, like we all didn’t know what was going on in there. Santa just sat at the head of the table, a smug look on his face and a half chub in his red velvet pants.

The Peppermint Twizzles and Hot Chocolate Toddies had been flowing all night and all the employees were rosier than a real Santa, if you know what I mean. Everyone was dancing, grinding up on one another, the Elves were starting to shed their clothes, and the reindeer had all retired to the stables to fuck like rabbits, I’m assuming, when Santa and his three lovelies ascended the stage steps. The crowd gathered around to watch the show. I don’t know how he does it honestly. How he gets these girls to do what he wants, to gaze at him so adoringly with their freakishly big eyes, their pouty mouths smiling up at him with wonder. He’s. Not. Really. Santa. Claus!

Without a word of direction, they all knelt before him, looking like Christmas perfection in their matching red and white striped stockings and sparkly red lingerie. He walked behind them, inspecting their position, grazing his hands along their shoulders, their chests. They all sighed as his fingertips trailed their flesh, the goosebumps rising on their skin at his touch. They giggled and entwined their fingers together as Santa quickly readied the play space.

“Bubbles, here!”

He pointed to a spot on the ground at his feet, and she crawled elegantly towards him, not breaking eye contact the entire way across the stage. Her round rump wiggled from side to side as she slid cat-like towards him. He pulled her to her feet and secured her to a spot in the ceiling by her wrists.

“Tart, you’re next!”

Just as Bubbles before her, Tart managed to make crawling look graceful. Santa tied this Elf face to face with Bubbles, mirroring her position, wrapping green rope around the two of them like a beautiful Christmas package. They kissed each other, their tongues dancing between their lips, their fingers grasped for each others above their heads and they ground their bodies against each other as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Santa clicked his tongue. “Easy girls, there will be time for that later,” he playfully admonished, turning their heads to face poor Clementine, still kneeling obediently. He placed a double ball gag in their mouths, specially made to fit around two heads and to fill two mouths, side by side. Their big eyes widened as drool started to drip down their chins. He grinned at them with that dumb, sexy smile that makes all the Elves quiver with desire and placed a vibrating wand between them, its bulbous head placed perfectly at the joining of their dripping cunts. The girls’ squeals were muffled by the rubber balls shoved in their open mouths.

“Watch while I play with Clementine, and no orgasms allowed!”

The girls nodded simultaneously, the corners of their mouths upturned in gleeful anticipation, their bodies twitching against each other eagerly.

“Oh, Clem! Such a good girl for waiting so patiently,” he cooed.

Santa stroked her upturned cheek fondly.

“Are you ready to play?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Clementine nodded emphatically, her perfectly rounded breasts jiggled in simultaneous agreement. He pulled her to her feet and gently wrapped a red silk blind fold around her face, hiding her beautiful sparkling eyes from the crowd. He cupped her chin and kissed her softly at first, then tilting her back, he pushed his tongue into her mouth dramatically and she ate it up like a Christmas pie. He undressed her, removing each garment and tossing it into the crowd. She gasped and squeaked at her exposure, but her wide smile showed her approval. Tart and Bubbles began to squirm at the site of their naked friend, wiggling like two mating worms on a hot summer sidewalk, their muffled moans rising above the murmurs of the crowd.

Santa positioned Clementine on one of the spanking benches, securing her wrists and ankles so that she couldn’t escape. Her beautiful round ass was on perfect display for the crowd, her face turned towards her friends so they could witness every reaction painted on her pretty face. Santa rubbed his soft gloved hands over her exposed skin, eliciting contented sighs from her lips as he stroked down her back, over her hips and down the back of her thighs. She began to vibrate, her gorgeous thighs trembling.

She was up there for over a half hour, and with each strike, she shrieked and moaned, her skin twitched in response to the different implements he used to torture her. The twinkling candlelight did not miss the dampness that trickled down her pale thighs as he built her up with a mixture of pleasure and pain. The other two Elves seemed to struggle with the task of not succumbing to a violent orgasm, their little toes danced on the floor in time to the vibrations of the toy between their thighs and they screamed and groaned along with their friend.

Finally, Santa decided she’d had enough, or maybe he couldn’t wait any longer. Her beautiful pink bottom beckoned to him, like a plate brimming with Christmas cookies. He bent down and took a bite of one cheek. Clementine screamed and arched her back, but her face lit up like a Christmas tree. The he bent and licked her, from top to bottom, as if her were licking all the whipped cream from a cup of hot cocoa in one swipe. She groaned and pressed her hips into his face, wanting more. Santa dropped his pants and took his big candy cane in his fist, pumping it a few times before pressing it between her trembling thighs.

Clementine mewled as he thrust into her, her pink mouth opened in a silent scream. Tart and Bubbles gasped desperately as their friend was impaled by Santa over and over again, the combination of the vibrator and the scene before them proving to be too much for their sensitive bodies.

“Come for me, my beauties!” Santa bellowed as he grabbed Clementine’s hips with both hands, his hanging Christmas ornaments slapping against her slit with an audible smack.

The girls screamed in unison, their sweet voices filled the break room like a choir song. Santa thrust into Clementine once more before pulling out and frosting her backside with his sweet cream. The crowd roared, the applause drowning out the sounds of four subsiding orgasms. The Elves crashed the stage first, ripping off their candy colored clothes and tossing them about like confetti. Santa quickly released Clementine from the spanking bench, picking her up in his arms and carrying her through the crowd of writhing bodies to untie Tart and Bubbles. Once free, the three Elves fell into a heap in Santa’s arms, kissing and laughing in a jumble of tangled limbs and eager wet mouths.

The continued all night, the Elves and Santa, fucking and licking, spanking and scratching, sucking and rubbing like wild animals. They were just another heap of flesh amid the many other piles of Elves and employees all letting loose in an all night holiday romp.

I’m sure you’re all wondering why I didn’t join in on the fun. You probably think that the old prude, Mrs. Claus just sat by and bitterly watched this hedonistic revelry. Well, you’re wrong, but I’m not going to expose myself to all those people like a wanton slut. I sat and had tea with Mr. Oddsby, the clockmaker. We watched the mess of humanity, commenting on this or that, making awkward small talk until he grabbed my hand, shaking in his, and placed it over the bulge in his pants.

“Mr. Oddsby, I…”

“Oh, come on, Linda! Don’t tell me this isn’t making you a little…”

His words trailed off and he stared into my eyes, questioningly.

“Horny?”

I laughed and leaned in to kiss him.

“Come on then!”

And, we scampered off hand in hand, dropping clothes as we headed to a more private spot.