Cock for Christmas: Naughty Holiday Delight

Christmas Eve, and Irene sat alone in her dimly lit living room, the lights of the tree reflecting off her ample curves. She'd been good all year, yet her more unconventional desires remained unfulfilled. As the clock struck midnight, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Pulling out her phone, Irene navigated to a familiar website, one that catered to those seeking to indulge their deepest cravings. She typed in her wish, as straightforward as it was scandalous: "All I want for Christmas is cock." Within minutes, her phone buzzed with a response. Attached was a picture of a generous specimen, accompanied by a message that read, "Your wish is my command, Santa's coming early this year." Irene's pulse quickened as she typed back, "The sooner the better. I've been far too good this year." She barely had time to put the phone down before her doorbell rang. Throwing it open, she found a man whose impressive package was barely concealed by a tight Santa suit. He wasted no time, pushing her back inside and pinning her against the wall. "I hear you've got quite the craving," he growled, his hands already working their way up her skirt. "Let's see if I can satisfy it."

Santa's hands were everywhere at once, tugging at her clothes with urgent need. Irene gasped as the fabric of her shirt buttons popped open, exposing her heaving breasts. He buried his face between them, his stubble scratching against her sensitive skin while his hands continued to roam. Irene fumbled with the Santa suit's zipper, finally freeing his rigid cock. It stood at attention, thick and ready. She wrapped her fingers around it, marveling at its girth as she slowly pumped her hand up and down. "Naughty girl," Santa growled against her ear. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" Irene could only whimper in response, her body trembling with anticipation. She needed to feel him inside her, filling her completely.

Santa hoisted Irene up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her towards the couch. He dropped her onto the soft cushions, quickly shedding the rest of his restrictive Santa suit. His cock stood proudly, beckoning her. Irene didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, taking him into her mouth with a hungry moan. Her tongue swirled around the head, savoring the taste of him as her hand worked the base. Santa's fingers tangled in her hair, urging her on with a guttural groan of approval. "Fuck, you're good at that," he rasped, his hips gently thrusting forward. Irene relaxed her throat, taking him deeper until her lips met the base. She pulled back slowly, her mouth slick with saliva, before diving back down. Santa's patience ran out. With a low growl, he pulled Irene off his cock and flipped her onto her hands and knees. Her skirt was pushed up around her waist, her ass exposed and glistening with want. He positioned himself behind her, sliding his cock between her folds, coating himself in her wetness. In one swift motion, he buried himself inside her. They both cried out at the sensation, Irene's walls clenching around him like a vice. Santa set a punishing pace, his hips snapping forward as he filled her completely with each thrust. Irene could barely think through the haze of pleasure, her body surrendering to the rhythm of his cock. She pushed back against him, meeting each thrust with abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their labored breaths and heated moans. "So tight... fuck, you feel incredible," Santa ground out, his fingers digging into her hips. Irene whimpered in agreement, lost in the intensity of him. She never wanted this to end.

Santa's thrusts grew more frenzied, his balls slapping against Irene's ass with each powerful drive. She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back as he hit that perfect spot deep inside. "Harder... please, fuck me harder," she begged breathlessly, gripping the couch cushions for support. He obliged, pounding into her with unrestrained force. The room filled with the heady scent of their lust, mixed with the faint aroma of pine from the Christmas tree. Irene's thighs quivered, her orgasm building rapidly. "I'm... I'm close," she panted, her voice trembling. Santa reached around, rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles. "Come for me," he demanded roughly. "Now." His words tipped her over the edge – Irene cried out, her pussy clenching around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. He continued driving into her through her climax, drawing out her pleasure. Finally, with a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded, filling her completely. They collapsed together onto the couch, spent and satisfied, as the Christmas lights twinkled softly around them.