Date: Sat, 25 Nov 2006 20:03:00 -0800 (PST) From: James Spaulding Subject: What Santa Knows, part 1 If you enjoy the following story, please contact me at fathercandy@yahoo.com. There is more to come. Santa will have his way... What Santa Knows It was my first job. The November of my senior year of high school. College was looming and I needed some money. Because Christmas was just around the corner, I figured the malls would all be hiring. Sure enough. Old Orchard Mall hired me as soon as they got my application; they needed someone for evening maintenance. It sounded like an easy job and the hourly wage wasn't bad. Of course, I hadn't prepared for the holiday rush and crush. I worked from 4:30 - 10:00 four nights a week. By quitting time I had emptied more than my share of garbage cans, cleaned more then my share of trash out of the fountains, and had certainly mopped more bathroom floors than I ever imagined mopping. It goes without saying that I was tired and soon regretted my decision to become financially solvent. As soon as I grew accustomed to dealing with the garbage, fountains, and bathroom floors, Santa arrived. Had I known that Santa's elves - or, more appropriately, Santa's crowd control - was supplied by the Mall's youngest employees, I doubt I would have been joined the ranks of the employed. But then I met Santa. There are good mall Santa's. Guys with real beards. Real bellies. Real chuckles and ho-ho-ho's. But most of us are familiar with the bad Santas. I remember one Christmas, an hour after I sat on Santa's lap, leaving the mall, walking past a now beardless Santa who was taking a cigarette break. Bad Santas are common. Good Santas are rare. Our Santa was excellent. I was readying myself for my first stint as Santa's little helper. I stood in the maintenance locker room, simply staring at the green tights I needed to wear. I couldn't. I figured I would just have to quit. And then the locker room door opened, and Santa entered. "They got you wearing green tights again this year, huh?" "Uh...looks like." "And it looks like, once again, my little helper doesn't want to wear 'em." "What do you mean?" "Every year you guys are asked to embarrass yourselves just so the mall looks good. I feel for you." "Thanks. Oh...I'm Derek." I gave him my hand. Which was soon engulfed in his huge paw. He smiled. His eyes twinkled. "I'm Santa." Santa had entered in street clothes. But he had his Santa suit, still in its dry cleaning bag. He opened the locker next to me, put his suit on the hook, and sat down to take his shoes off. "Yep, every year, you guys suffer just so I can get a little help keeping the kids and their parents in some sort of order. I tell you, I sure do appreciate it." "Thanks. I guess I haven't done anything yet." "Well, as soon as you get out of your clothes and put on those tights, you will have sacrificed some of your dignity." He handed me the tights. I had no choice but to take them. He went to work, taking off his shoes. Then his shirt. Then he stood up, undid his belt, and stepped out of his pants. Of course, I didn't want to stare. I didn't want to think of this old guy as a sexual being, but from the moment he shook my hand, I had felt an attraction. Santa wasn't old. Probably in his late forties. But he was old enough to have enough gray in his beard to not need to don a fake beard. And he wasn't fat. He was big: broad shouldered and, though he had a sizable stomach, he seemed too solid to be anything but firm - stomach and all. "What you looking at, Derek? Never seen an old guy in his union suit before?" He was wearing a union suit - a one-piece long underwear set, with buttons from the chest to the groin and - I'm not making this up! - while another set of buttons attached a flap that covered his ass to the rest of the garment. "Actually, I haven't ever seen a guy in a union suit before. I didn't think they even made them anymore." "Well, it keeps me warm. And, when you live where I live, warm is a good thing." Another glance, and I'm afraid I may have embarrassed myself. Warm or not -- Santa was hot. His union suit revealed enough of his body to impress me. Tufts of gray hear covered his massive chest, some of it creeping out of the top of his union suit. But when I surreptitiously glanced at his crotch, I was more than impressed. To say the least, the fabric of his union suit clung to his cock. Even though he was fully-dressed, his union suit allowed no room for the imagination. The fabric clung to his cock; his thick dick was clearly visible as was his thick cock head. "Come on, Derek. You gotta get dressed and we gotta get out there." I began to undress and finally stood there in my boxers. I held up the tights. "Fuck." "I'm afraid the boxer shorts won't work. You get all bunched up and - well to put it nicely - your cock and balls will not be happy with you." That was a problem. Santa's union suit and cock had aroused me. Hell, at 18 anything aroused me. I turned around, took off my shorts, and put on the tights. Actually I attempted to put on the tights. After more than a few near falls, I gave up. "How the hell do I get these on?" "Here. Sit down." I sat, using the tights to cover as much of my semi-erect cock as possible. "Give me the tights." I hesitated. "Give it up, Derek. This is a guy's locker room. It's OK to be naked. Give me the tights." I handed him the tights. He took them, knelt in front of me. "Here's what you do. You put in one leg at a time and slowly pull the bastards up." He put my right foot into the right leg. Then the left foot into the left leg of the tights. And I started to pull them up. After a few moments I had to stand in order to get the tights past my thighs. As I pulled the tights up, my cock started bouncing. And as my cock bounced, it once again betrayed me. Blood was rushing to my appendage. And I now stood before Santa with a full on boner. It was a good thing Santa had turned from me to put on his own costume. But that good thing only lasted so long. I got the tights on, but, like Santa's red union suit and then some, the fabric did nothing to hide my penis. And, unlike Santa's penis, mine was rock hard. "It happens all the time. I guy puts on a pair of tights, and he gets a boner. Nothing to worry about, Derek. Heck, there is nothing in those tights to be embarrassed about. Nice. Very nice. Santa's little helper ain't so little." All of this was said as Santa's glance lingered on my crotch. He chuckled. "I was young once, too. And, believe me, I had more than my share of erections...Here, put these on." He handed me my Christmas red shorts. Then my Christmas red tunic. Finally covered, I stood next to him. We did one last check in the mirror. "Good to go, Derek? You got that boner under control." I stammered my answer. Embarrassed as hell. Turned on as hell. And completely convinced that Santa's glances told me a whole lot about Santa. For a moment or two, I was convinced that Santa was just as turned on. And though his Santa suit covered his body loosely, I was certain he had adjusted himself as he walked out the door of the locker room. ... Santa always debuts to a crowd. I was kept so busy corralling the five year olds that I never even glanced at Santa. The only silver lining? The night was over before I knew it. The last kid had sat on Santa's lap. Posed for his picture. Presented his Christmas demands. And the mall was quiet. "Nice job, Derek. You handled yourself like a real pro. You certainly kept your cool. I swear, sometimes I feel like pinching one of the little brats - and I'm Santa." He laughed. A big belly laugh. "I think it's time for Santa and his little helper to get out of their silly costumes." I followed Santa to the locker room. Already aroused. What was it about this guy? Yes, he was old. A hell of a lot older than me. His full beard was gray. The hair on his head and the hair on his chest were just as gray. And he was big. A hell of lot bigger than any guy I had ever been attracted to. He stood three or four inches taller than me - and I'm almost six feet tall. But there was something about him. His confidence. His kindness. His paternal demeanor. All of this mingled with the memory of his huge cock. I was smitten. And I was terrified. I wanted Santa. And I was once again sharing a locker room with him. Boner and all. I sat on the bench, trying my best to calm myself. Imagining all sorts of awful things - calculus test, physics experiments, English essays -- hoping to take my mind off of Santa. I put my head in my hands and stared at the floor. "Are you all right, Derek?" I nodded. "Just tired." "Believe me, I'm exhausted, too. But a nice hot shower always perks me up. Right up." He laughed. I had no control. I looked up at him. He stood there, once again clad only in his union suit. I watched as he began to undo the buttons. His massive body seemed to explode out of the suit. Thick hair - hair as thick as his beard - covered his chest. But the chest could only hold my attention for a moment. My gaze followed his hands as they moved to his crotch. He fumbled with his last two buttons. His crotch was as hairy as the rest of him. But all that hair could do nothing to hide his penis. At first all I could see was the base of his cock. It was thick enough to make my mouth water. His hands moved from his buttons as he adjusted himself. Realizing I had been staring - my mind far from any recollection of calculus - I quickly looked away. But not before Santa noticed. "Caught you looking, didn't I, Derek?" Again, I was unable to be articulate; I mumbled. "Look." I looked. He had removed the suit from his shoulders. It still clung to his crotch, waste, and thighs. "It's all right. Santa knows. Santa knows, boy." "What do you know?" "Sir." I looked blankly. "I said, call me Sir." I looked at him. Caught my breath. And took a bold step forward. I thought I knew where this was going, and I was more than willing to go there. "What do you know, Sir?" "I know you're a bad boy." "Sir?" "I know you have sex with men. I know that you have been fucked by at least two of your classmates and one of your teachers. And - here's the kicker - I know you gave your father a blow job one night when he had passed out on the living room sofa." I wasn't just inarticulate. I was unable to breath. I was unable to think. How the fuck did this guy know what he knew. Everything he said was true. I had been fucked by two of my classmates. And I had been seduced by my history teacher; he was the first man to fuck me. And - here is the proverbial kicker - I had given my father a blow job one night when he had passed out after drinking a hell of a lot of vodka. "Who are you?" "I told you, Derek. I am Santa. Didn't you learn anything from that stupid fucking song." He started to sing; "he's gonna find out who's naughty or nice." He stopped singing. "I know you've been naughty. Very naughty." 'I...Uh..." "No 'I...Uh...' Boy. Santa wants you to tell him just how bad you've been." He pulled out the bench, sat down, and forced me down on his lap. "Now, tell Santa about the blow job you gave your dad." "Um..." I couldn't speak for a couple of reasons. First, I was terrified and confused and kind of shocked by the fact that someone knew of my darkest secret. Second, Santa's lap was exactly where I wanted to be; I was completely and utterly turned on. He put his arms around me pulled me to him. I could feel the hair on his chest. I could feel the erection that filled his union suit. I only needed a little prodding. "Spit it out, Boy." "Well...Dad goes out every Friday after work. He...He drinks a lot. As he puts it, he's had a hard week and needs some time to wind down with his buddies. He usually comes home just in time to eat dinner. He then retreats to the den where he watches television or gets on the internet. He keeps the door locked. I...I, uh...I think he watches porn." "He does watch porn. He especially likes bisexual porn." "Um...how do you know?" "I've already told you. I'm Santa. I just know...Continue with your story, Boy." "Then you know that my Dad is pretty hot. I mean, he's big like you. Hairy, too. He's never been a big muscle guy, but he's fit and everything. I used to try to catch him leaving the shower. Hell, by the time I started jacking off, I would jack off thinking about him. I know it's kind of sick. But, I know I'm not alone in fantasizing about my dad." "You are most definitely, correct. You are not alone. Nor are you the first boy to take advantage of a drunken father. Continue on with your story." "So I started thinking that I maybe I could catch Dad in some sort of compromising situation. I kept trying the den door every Friday night, hoping he might have forgotten to lock it. Well, one night I got lucky. I slowly opened the door. And there he was, passed out on the sofa. I called him. I shook his shoulder. But he was out cold. I then went to the door, locked it, and moved to the sofa. I don't think I was planning on giving him a blow job. And I'm not sure just when I realized I had my chance. But I made my move. I knelt between Dad's legs. I shook him again just to be sure he was out. No response. My hand moved to his crotch. I found his zipper and opened the front of his pants." "You know, Derek. This story is really turning me on." "I can tell, Sir. I feel your cock." "Yes, you do, Boy. Yes you do." "My dad wears boxers, My hand found the slit in his shorts. And I went to work. I pulled his cock out of the slit. For a moment or two I paused. I was shocked by what I was doing. I couldn't believe my actions. But I also couldn't believe that my greatest fantasy was about to come true. Dad's cock was beautiful, rising from a nest of hair. I took my father's cock and put it in my mouth. It was as simple as that. And then I went to work. I know that guys who are drunk usually have a hard time getting hard. Dad didn't have a problem. He got hard fast. As a matter of fact, I had barely gotten started when he shot his load. I wasn't prepared to take it. He didn't moan or grunt or anything, and then, all of a sudden, I was tasting his semen. He filled my mouth. I swallowed it all. I even took his cock out of my mouth and squeezed his cock, eager to get the rest of his cum. I finished sucking my father's cock. Put everything back in proper order. Left the den. And proceeded to jack off in my room. I was appalled. Really shocked. But totally turned on." "As you should be Derek. You were lucky to not get caught. Then again..." "What?" "What?" What? Sir!" "That's better. Now...Stand up and take off your clothes." He was Santa. I had to listen. TO BE CONTINUED.