Kimmy did not believe in the magic of Christmas. She did not buy into magic elves, dancing nutcrackers, or special workshops that cranked out toys. Most of all, Kimmy did not believe in a magic man who wore a red suit, flying through the night on a sleigh pulled by reindeer. Kimmy didn’t believe in these things, because she was eighteen years old, and those silly notions were for kids.
What Kimmy did believe in, was masturbating frequently to thoughts of cockteasing older men. She did not give in and have sex with these men but got herself off to the thoughts of their blueballs and the image of their painful, swollen erections. Kimmy cockteased her teachers, wearing short skirts and going without panties. She cockteased the delivery men, answering the door in towels or her bras and panties. Kimmy cockteased her brother and her father, laying splayed on the couch in tiny thongs that molded to her plump little pussy. She teased her friend’s fathers and brothers, wearing too-tight tops that displayed her round, balloon-like melons.
Kimmy went to bed on Christmas Eve, after jilling her twat to the memory of her brother’s engorged cock tenting his shorts. It was just after 3:00 in the morning when she awoke, though she couldn’t say what it was that had roused her. Now that she was awake, though, she needed a drink. Quietly, Kimmy snuck down the stairs, wearing her thin panties and a silk top without a bra. She stopped at the sound of a rustling in the living room.
Sure that her parents were stuffing presents under the tree, Kimmy poked her head around the corner and watched in disbelief. By the tree was a large man in a red suit, his long white beard swishing as he bent over to place a gift beneath the tree. On the floor sat a large red sack, which was also filled with gifts. On his head was a floppy red hat.
“It’s alright, Kimmy,” he said, standing. “You can come in. Santa knows you’re watching.”
He gave a hearty chuckle and looked her way. Kimmy, awed, stepped into the room.
“Are you... I’m dreaming,” she said, shaking her head.
“No dream,” the fat man said, shouldering his bag. “I know you don’t believe in me, but I believe in you!”
“This is a fucking joke,” Kimmy said.
The old man grinned cheerfully and, as Kimmy watched, he seemed to shrink into nothing but a thin red wisp of smoke, which vanished up the chimney. Kimmy gasped and ran to the door, flinging it open and stepping outside. The cold forgotten in her astonishment, she padded out onto the porch and gaped in disbelief as a red sleigh, pulled by flying reindeer, descended from the roof to hover in front of her. The mere presence of the sleigh cast a warm glow over her and the cold vanished.
“Christmas cheer is no joke,” the old man said. “Each year, one lucky girl is chosen to experience the magic of Christmas for themselves. This year, Kimmy, I’m offering you that chance. Would you like to see how the magic happens?”
Two thoughts entered Kimmy’s slutty, stupid head at that moment. The first was that she did, in fact, want to experience the magic of Christmas. Who wouldn’t? The second was that she loved cockteasing older men, and what man was older than Saint Nick? Her panties were already wet at the thought of it.
“Really?” she asked.
Santa held out his hand. Kimmy reached for it, took the mitten-covered hand in hers, and stepped into the sleigh.
“It’s… it’s so warm!” Kimmy exclaimed, settling her bottom on Santa’s lap and wiggling it.
“That’s the magic of Christmas!” Santa said. “It might be cold outside, but it’s always hot where Santa is!”
Kimmy whooped delightedly as the sleigh suddenly shot away into the sky. Her neighborhood fell away beneath them, and then the entire city. The buildings and lights far below twinkled in the dark like a blanket of holiday mirth, shining through the night. Kimmy settled back against the old man’s chest and gently ground her pussy against the large magic cock she could feel in his trousers.
The sleigh seemed to have no sort of controls or mechanism to guide it, but it had a clock embedded in the front. The clock moved with agonizing slowness, each second seeming to hang for an eternity. Santa’s hand went around Kimmy’s waist, holding her as the sleigh flew, descended, and then landed on the roof of another home.
Kimmy squeaked as she felt her body turn light, misty, and in a flash they were down the chimney and standing in some stranger’s living room. Kimmy helped the old man place gifts under a tree. He never even looked at the names on the gifts, seeming to know which one was which through some magic intuition. The sack, also, never seemed to get any smaller. They vanished up the chimney again and sped off to the next home.
Not even a second had passed by on the clock as they repeated this process at the next home, then the next. Despite the endless number of times it happened, Kimmy didn’t grow tired or hungry. They simply sped through the night, delivering the gifts. All across the world they flew, through the skies of Mexico, Brazil, France, Italy, across the oceans, over the mountains. Millions of gifts, millions of homes, and yet the time never seemed to pass. Doing this, over and over, never seemed boring either. Kimmy felt only a glow of happiness and cheer as she helped the old man deliver gifts around the world. Finally, the sack was empty.
“The North Pole awaits!” Santa declared. “Would you like to see it for yourself, Kimmy?”
“Absolutely!” Kimmy cried, ecstatically.
The sleigh flew on, far across the frozen tundra, until they passed through a shimmering bubble that hid the magical land of the North Pole. The sleigh descended until it came to rest on the snow-covered ground outside Santa’s home. Kimmy gasped at the beauty of it, a thing right out of every Christmas story she’d ever heard. The gingerbread house was decked with lights, the bushes outside made of gumdrops. The home itself seemed held together by sugary frosting and the laughter of children.
Kimmy stepped out of the sled and into the snow, but her feet did not feel cold. She followed the old man into the house, where the soft sound of carols seemed to play from all around her. Inside, a plump old woman greeted them with hot cider and a tray of cookies.
“Is this the special girl for this year?” the old woman asked, her rosy cheeks alight with joy.
“This is Kimmy!” Santa declared. “She’s this year’s special girl!”
The old woman handed Kimmy a cookie and a mug of hot cider.
“This is incredible!” Kimmy exclaimed, taking a sip of the cider.
The warm