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Santa's Party Favor
The annual office Christmas party was living up to my weak expectations. All the office bigwigs were there, and the kiss-ups, making sure they were noticed by all the executives. The phonies were dressed up in their Armani suits and Christmas ties, and the power bitches were displaying all of their bling and tight-fitting holiday cocktail dresses, showing off most of their artificially tanned, pushed up silicone boobs.
Everyone was getting drunk on the free booze, and stuffing themselves at the buffet table on shrimp, caviar and other overpriced food, or busy draining the chocolate fountain and cramming rich creamy pastries into their faces. It was the annual parade of trophy wives and chitchat about their last cruise or their latest gas-guzzling SUV.
The lavish display was especially sickening this year, given that the economy was in the tank, and the company had laid off a third of its manufacturing crews. Yet, the executives were still taking their stock options and pricey salaries, and all the suits were still getting their Christmas bonuses. I'd just finished crunching the numbers for the fourth quarter, and it was not a pretty sight.
When the band started playing the limbo and a line formed to see who could bare their cleavage the most as they leaned under the makeshift limbo bar, I realized I needed to get out of there, and take a walk, before I opened my big mouth and made a fool of myself.
I slipped out the side door and walked down the hall, until I found an empty conference room. The room was dark, blissfully quiet, and you could see the spectacle of the entire downtown lit up for the holidays. We were forty stories up, and everywhere I looked, I could see the tall columns of lights of the skyscrapers, and the various red and green holiday lights of the various condos and apartments in the city, as well as the Christmas boat parade on the river.
My mood brightened at the beauty of the scene, and I soon managed to forget about the phoniness and pretention of the annual office bash. I'd put in my appearance, and was noticed by my boss and his boss, so I'd paid my dues and could now make my quick exit. My partner was planning to go caroling around the neighborhood in a couple of hours, and I wanted to be home in time to join him and a few close friends for what always was a genuine holiday celebration. It would be quite the welcome contrast to the drunken social climbing office party scene.
Just as I was about ready to take my exit down the hall and into the elevator, I heard the door open, and then close, the lock turned with a click. I turned around to see Santa standing there, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye, and a hearty grin under the thick swirls of his beard.
"Merry Christmas, Tom," Santa said, as he walked over to me, his belly secured under his big red suit, his beard flowing over his massive chest down to his shiny silver belt buckle. "I hear you've been a good boy this year."
"Well, I have, Santa," I replied, a bit taken aback at having this surprise visit with Santa. When I'd left the party, there were several Santas there, partaking of the booze and flirting with the most scantily clad wenches. This Santa certainly wasn't one of the party goers.
"Then, Tom, it's time for your present," he said with a laugh, as he knelt down in front of me, his fingers quickly unzipping my suit pants, and pulling out my cock. Quick as a flash, Santa took my limp, surprised cock into his bearded mouth, and began to slowly, expertly suck and fondle me, running his tongue up and down my manhood, and lightly licking and encircling my cockhead with his tongue.
Santa's big hand grasped my butt, and pulled my hips and groin close against Santa's face, until his beard was pressed tightly against my unzipped pants, my now growing cock beginning to fill his mouth.
Stunned at this sudden and delightful attention, I grabbed onto St. Nick's shoulders, feeling the thick wool of his red coat in my hands, as I steadied myself against this talented taking of my cock into what was proving to be a very expert blow job.
My lust began to rise, and my balls tightened, as my cock grew to its full height, my brain now filled with white lightning, until all I could think about was the slow, eager ravishing of my cock by this amazing, expert tongue and lips.
The pumping and stroking slowed a bit, allowing me to fill my lungs with a few gasps of air, as my back arched, and I thrust my hips forward, to fully fill Santa's mouth with my now urgent need. Each stroke became a new experience, as he twisted and licked and sucked each area of my cock, without any repeated motions, setting my nerves on fire, my cum now gathering in my balls, ready to explode, yet, my cock not yet wanting to be done.
The white fur rim of Santa's hat pounded against my shirt, my belly feeling the texture of the soft fur, as my balls now began to ache with their need to find their release, my shaft sliding exquisitely up and down in his hot, demanding mouth.
He cupped my balls, through the cloth on my pants, and I felt the heat and close touch of his palm and gentle fingers, as he coaxed me to my climax. The rhythm of his pounding and sucking increased, until I realized I could no longer hold myself back, but not wanting this pleasure to stop. Suddenly, he pushed me over the edge, and I felt as if a dam burst inside of me, releasing torrents of my jism out of my balls and through my hungry cock, jets of cum spurting quickly, achingly swift, into his hot, wet mouth, until I was drained, fully released, my breath now ragged and gasping.
I leaned against the window; my eyes closed in ecstatic joy, my cock still leaking cum, as I caught my breath. Slowly, my breath returned to me, and I began to open my eyes. Santa was opening the door, stepping into the hallway.
He turned to me, laughed, and waved, his belly shaking like a bowlful of jelly.
"Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, Tom! "
Copyright 2008 Oregon Bear