Date: Mon, 23 Dec 2013 05:41:15 -0800 (PST) From: Sven Svensson Subject: SANTA CLAUS AND HIS BOY This is a fantasy story about older and younger teens having sex. If that's not your cup of tea, go read something else, but always remember that fantasy can be so much better than real life. Merry Christmas, peeps! Santa Claus and His Boy Barry was exhausted. It had been a long day, and he was sick of the screaming little brats who had surrounded him all day long. Thank God, it was two days before Christmas, so just one more day, and he would collect his check and say goodbye to the whole process! Barry played Santa Claus at the local mall, sitting in his big chair from 9:30 AM until 5:30 PM, with a one-hour lunch break and occasional breaks to take a pee. That was not easy, because the store dressed him in a proper Santa suit, with a big padded stomach to hide the fact that he himself was skinny as a beanpole. Barry was 19 years old, a freshman at the local university, and strong despite being so lean. He was a long-distance runner and rowed on the university's sculling team, so he had good muscles on his 6'1, 155 pound frame. He had the black hair and black eyes of a Jew whose ancestors came from the shtetls of Eastern Europe. His grandfather would turn over in his grave if he knew that his grandson was pretending to be Santa Claus for the goyim and their children, but he was long dead, and Barry's parents, who were anything but observant Jews, didn't give a shit. Although they had taken their only son to his bar mitzvah, they only went to synagogue on the high holidays, and because the suburb in which they lived was white-bread and Christian, they had always celebrated Christmas in addition to Hanukkah so that Barry wouldn't feel left out. Barry was in the area behind the Santa World stage, and he had taken off the stomach padding and Santa coat, as well as the Santa hat and beard/hair combo that made his head itch something fierce. He was about to take off his Santa pants and finally release his cock from the very tight jockstrap in which it was encased. He wore the tight jockstrap because Barry was what his grandfather would have referred to as a faygalah – a card-carrying cocksucking homosexual. Little kids did nothing for Barry, but sometimes the boys who clambered onto his lap at the mall, often looking embarrassed but doing so because of their mothers and their ever-present cameras and I-pods, were a bit older and unbelievably good looking. Barry had sucked his first cock at the age of nine and had his cock sucked for the first time that same day by his eleven-year-old neighbor Alan, and when Barry's wiener had exploded into fireworks and music, he was hooked for good, particularly because Alan, who was an early developer, spilled a bit of sperm onto his tongue – sperm which tasted like ambrosia to the budding little fag boy. At any rate, a decade later Barry had made the mistake of wearing loose jockey shorts to the mall the first day that he played Santa, and with preteen boys in his lap whispering in his ear about the toys they wanted for Christmas, he desperately had to think about geometry or physics to keep his eight-inch cock from stretching out and giving the kid on his lap more than he had bargained for. A couple of times he thought that a kid saw through his getup and saw the gay teenager underneath, because a few boys squirmed around in his lap more than seemed to be normal, but by that time he had sentenced his cock to jockstrap prison, and so that was OK. Barry more felt than heard someone entering the behind the scenes area as he stood there, bare chested and preparing to take off his boots so that he could get the damn Santa pants off. He turned and saw a scruffy-looking kid looking at him. "We're closed," Barry said. "Store's gonna close in 15 or 20 minutes." "I know," the kid said. "I just wanna talk to you." He had floppy blond hair that hung over his eyes and was wearing an oversized sweatshirt from the university Barry attended over ratty blue jeans with holes in both knees. Barry was suddenly glad that he still had his pants on. The kid was pretty. "Well, what do you want?" "I wanna tell you what I want for Christmas," he kid said. "I didn't wanna sit in your lap out there `cause I'm 13 and that's for little kids." And then: "You don't look like no Santa Claus to me. You look like a kike." "That's not a nice word," Barry said, realizing that he was sounding like his mother. "Where did you learn a word like that?" "That's what my grandpa calls Jews," the kid said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Well, it's an ugly word, and I don't wanna hear it." The kid stared at him. "I didn't mean nuthin'. Sorry, dude." "It's OK." The boy really was exceptionally good looking, with big blue eyes looking at him from behind the curtain of hair. "So what is it that you want for Christmas?" The kid looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. "A I-pod," he mumbled. "I just live with my ma, and she works at two jobs, but we don't have a lot of money." "Well, you tell your mom to come and see me tomorrow," Barry said. He knew the manager of one of the electronics stores in the mall who had been trying to get into his pants forever. Maybe he could swap some sex for an I-pod. "I'll see what I can do." The kid broke into a beaming smile. He had a gap between his front teeth, and Barry wanted to scoop him up and eat him. "Thanks, mister! That would be the best." And then, very quickly, "I could give you a blowjob if you wanted." Barry's heart gave a skip. "What does a little kid like you know about that?" The kid scowled at him. "I ain't no little kid. I sucked lotsa cocks before." Barry hid a grin. "Yeah? Well, what makes you think I'd want that?" The kid shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. You just look like you might be a faggot." Another word from the grandfather? Barry let it go. "I don't know. That could be trouble." "I won't tell anyone, cross my heart," the kid said. "Wanna see my dick? It's pretty big." And without another word, he pulled up his sweatshirt, unzipped his jeans, fished around inside, and came out with a boner that was indeed pretty big for a 13-year-old, five inches or maybe a little bit more. Barry's cock immediately began to protest against its sheath. Oh, shit! And at that very moment, to make it even worse, the flap leading to the backstage area opened, and in came Aidan, who was one of the two elves who helped Santa out during the day. Aidan was 16 years old and a total slacker, but he did OK work. He was dressed in his elf's uniform with the pointed hat, the green uniform and the pointy shoes. He took in the scene in a second, grinned, and said: "Gotcher cock out again, shrimp? You're the horniest little motherfucker I ever seen." The kid didn't even blush. "Shut up," he said. "Else I'm never gonna suck that pencil dick of yours again!" "Shut up yerself," the elf said. "What are you doing here anyway?" The kid pointed at Barry: "He said he could get me a I-pod for Christmas." The elf gave Santa a sleepy look and grinned again. "And this one offered to suck your cock in return, am I right?" Barry didn't know what to think. Aidan was a nice-looking teenager, with fiery red hair and deep green eyes, but he always seemed so zoned out that Barry had never thought about him in a sexual sense. Apparently, though his elf knew this kid, and Barry suddenly had an image of Aidan flat on his back and naked, with the blond kid between his legs, his head bobbing up and down, up and down. Before he could say anything, the kid walked up to him and put his hand on the front of his Santa pants. "So you wanna?" "Go ahead, Santa," Aidan said. "He's good at it." Then he pulled down the front of his elf pants and out came another boner, this one long and thin and really looking like a pencil, now that Barry thought about it. "I'll help." So Barry sent up a little prayer of thanks, pulled down his Santa pants and gave Aidan and the kid a look at his bulging jockstrap. The kid hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled the jock down. He got big eyes when he saw the cock that emerged, a pair of bull balls hanging down and a riot of black hair around the genitals. The next thing Barry knew, the kid was down on his knees, and Barry's cock was bumping the back of the boy's throat. Holy Jehovah! Barry hadn't cum in three or four days, always too tired after his Santa shift to think about it, and for a second he thought he was going to cum right then and there. A hand closed over his hanging balls and squeezed lightly. "Yeah," came Aidan's voice. "Suck Santa's big cock, shrimp! Suck it good!" He walked around Barry, put his arms around him and gave his nipples a squeeze. Barry gasped. How did the elf know that he enjoyed tit play? He reached behind and found Aidan's erect prick. A few drops of precum dripped into his hand. Barry looked down, and all that he could see was a mess of blond hair, but the kid's right shoulder was moving in a manner which suggested that he was jerking off. Barry was over the moon. The kid was an excellent cocksucker, using lots of spit and doing things with his tongue that Barry had never felt before. One of the hands disappeared from Barry's muscular chest, and a second later a finger started probing his butthole. Barry pushed the hand away. He had never been fucked, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. But Aidan put his finger right back where it started, and it slowly slipped inside Barry's tight butthole. After a bit of rooting around, it found Barry's prostate, and Barry thought that his cock had just swelled to double size. Fuck! The kid took his mouth off of Barry's dripping cock and looked up at him. "Tell me when you're gonna cum," he said. "I want you to shoot all over my face." And then he dove back down. "Such a little perv," Aidan's voice came from behind Barry. A second finger had joined the first one inside Barry's rectum. The elf's voice breathed into his ear: "Want me to fuck your ass, Santa?" He didn't wait for an answer. The two fingers disappeared, and Aidan's six-inch dick slid effortlessly into Barry's asshole. Barry grimaced, but only for a second, because he realized that yeah, he liked the elf's dick inside him while the boy was sucking on his own tool. He liked it a lot. He looked down again at the blond head bobbing back and forth on his dick. The kid could take about three-quarters of it in his mouth at a time. "I want you to cum first," Barry told him. "I want you to cum on my cock." Aidan was fucking him hard now, short, fast jabs that put his ass on fire and made him tingle. The kid stood up and grinned at Barry. "Ready?" It took him just a couple of yanks on his boner, and then five or six spurts of burning cum ejaculated all over Barry's cock. The kid didn't have a lot of pubic hair, and Barry realized that it was as blond as the hair on his head. The kid looked beyond gorgeous, his eyes shut and his mouth hanging open as the orgasm ripped through his body. That done, the kid immediately dropped back down on his knees. First he licked his own sperm up from Barry's cock, and then he dove back down. Barry knew that it wasn't going to be long. "I'm gonna cum," the elf grunted behind him. "Oh, yea, I'm gonna shoot my load in you, Santa!" And so Barry pushed the kid's head away and grabbed his cock. Aidan's prick rammed deep into him, and he felt warm cum squirting into his asshole. That was all Barry needed, and he squelched the desire to roar loudly as the orgasm blasted from his toes and straight into his crotch. Half a minute later, it looked like the kid's face had been whitewashed. The kid had his mouth open and his tongue going a mile a minute to catch the shooting cum. Barry thought that if he could have cum for six hours, he would have. He bent over to lick some of his spooge from the boy's beautiful face. He was that the kid was masturbating frantically, and a few seconds later, another jet of teen cum jetted out of his balls. A few minutes later, the three of them were back in their clothes. Barry felt embarrassed. Rooting around with his elf and this kid – what had he been thinking? But the boy looked so angelic that he didn't think about that too long. "Don't forget what you promised," the kid said. "I won't," Barry said. "What's your name anyway?" "Sam," the kid said, "but everybody calls me Scooter." "OK, Scooter. Like I said, have your mom come and see me tomorrow." And then the kid was gone. Aidan was sitting on the table in the backstage area and grinning like the shit-eating weasel he was. "Told ya," he said. "That kid can suck the chrome off a bumper." Barry couldn't disagree. *** The next day, when Mrs. Jackson came back to the mall to tell Barry that her son had been pestering her about it for the past eighteen hours, he reached under his chair and pulled out a box with an I-pod. "Sometimes the store gives presents to kids," he told the woman. She didn't need to know that Eddie, the pimply assistant manager of the electronics store, had spent ten minutes that morning frantically and not particularly expertly sucking on Barry's big cock before Barry had helped out with his own hand and blasted a big load down the back of Eddie's throat. Eddie had been puppy-dog grateful, and the I-Pod was in Barry's hands. Mrs. Jackson was grateful beyond words, and when Barry looked behind her, he saw Scooter half-hidden behind a Christmas tree, grinning at him, one hand massaging his crotch and the other one giving him a high sign. Barry grinned. It was his last day at the Santa job. Maybe Scooter would come to see him again.