As I sit in the back of the plane waiting for the rest of the passengers to board, I’m distracted. My mind reviews everything I left at the office. I make notes of who I need to call and things I need to check on, tasks left unfinished…I shake myself. â€œYou aren’t supposed the be thinking about work!â€ I chide myself, â€œthis is your vacation!â€
It seemed like a good idea at the time. My first Christmas since my divorce was finalized. The kids were with their father for a week and Mama needed some Me Time. I wanted to get away from everybody and everything during the long holiday weekend. I actually googled “warmest Christmas in the Southwest” and made my choices based on the results. I made myself a reservation at the fanciest hotel Phoenix, Arizona had to offer. Air fares were down, and I found an excellent deal on a non-stop flight. I don’t really have to worry about money anymore, but my bargain hunter instinct is still sharp. â€œDiscount airline, discount seat…this should be perfectly awfulâ€ I thought to myself, as I clicked â€œBook it Now!â€
I chose my hotel totally based on amenities. I didn’t intend to do any sightseeing. This wasn’t that sort of vacation. I planned on being massaged, ex foliated, manicured, pedicured and otherwise pampered during the day and having my ass planted on the most comfortable bar stool at night. Hell, I might even order room service and some porn if I didn’t feel like getting dressed for dinner.
The early morning airport hassle is no less annoying for being familiar. I run the gauntlet of security lines and check in desks, even meriting a pat down from a brusque older woman. This is the opposite of the sort of massage I’m looking forward to. God I hate air travel. Mornings are the worst; no one wants to be here, least of all me. The best I can hope for is a short flight. I board the plane and take a seat near the back, my mind still tracing and retracing everything I have left to do, everything I need to fix, all of the mundane and major catastrophes of the past week.
My eyes bring me back to the present when I spot a very tall, very handsome black man walking down the aisle. Hmmmm…beautiful lips…wonder what they feel like. Jesus, he’s tall. Jesus, he has wide shoulders. Now that’s something I could work it out on. Fuck me…his hands are HUGE! I bet they would feel amazing on me. My eyes slowly travel back to his face. He really is handsome, pretty in fact. Well dressed in an understated way, aside from the red and white hat on his head. He’s wearing a Santa hat for christssakes! I smile a little. Those lips are beautiful…and they’re moving. Oh shit! He’s talking to me.
I yank out my earphones, “I’m sorry, I was zoned out.” “I was asking if this seat was taken, you were staring right at me. I thought you might be hearing impaired,” he says with a wicked smile, “or some uptight woman that didn’t want to sit next to me for the next three hours.” “Now why would you think something like that,” I ask, arching my eyebrow at him, “a grown man, wearing a Santa hat. That’s gotta be some kind of Holiday Traveler’s Warning: Beware of men masquerading as Santa!” “Do you mind if I sit next to you, ma’am?” he said, in a comically formal tone, flashing me that amazingly sexy smile again, “I’d like to stretch out back here.” “Sure,” I tell him, feeling slightly giddy that I will now be able to sexually harass him all morning,
“Stretch out where you like, Santa. Just leave me a lil’ room so I can nap.” He puts his carry-on into the overhead bin, which gives me the chance to really check him out. Yeah, he’s hot, but he’s very young…too young. I sigh in frustration. His eyes immediately meet mine, “I’m sorry I was teasing you, can I still sit here?” He seriously thinks I would make him move? Yeah, he’s too young. “I like to be teased, Sugar. In fact, I prefer to be teased by Santa himself,” I tell him, looking him straight in the eyes, “When he’s only wearing his hat.” He takes the Santa hat out of the overhead bin where he had just stuffed it, puts it back on his head, sits down and looks at me with a huge grin on his face. Damn he is sexy, why does he have to be so young?
“Tell me little girl, have you been naughty or nice?” My stomach flips in the best kind of way…his voice is so deep and sexy. I’m mesmerized by his lips. “I’ve been very nice this year, Santa,” I say as I stare deeply into his eyes, “but I’m ready to be naughty.” Just then the pilot announces that we are ready for takeoff and the flight attendant launches into her safety speech. I fasten my seatbelt and frown. I hate takeoff. He sees me frowning and raises the two armrests that separate us and scoots closer to me. “What’s wrong, little girl?” he asks, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer to him, “Tell Santa.” I giggle and lean against him, “I just don’t like takeoff, Santa. It makes my stomach feel funny.” Shit, this has such potential…he smells so good. He’s so funny…and handsome. As the plane starts gaining speed, the force pulls me back against him tighter and he grabs my free hand and begins to gently stroke my palm in slow circles with his thumb. I feel my clit start to throb in time to the rhythym he’s stroking on my hand. He’s smooth. So very smooth.
He leans down to whisper in my ear, his deep voice giving me goosebumps, “You smell so good” he purrs in my ear. He takes my hand, brings it up to his mouth and slowly exhales his warm breath onto my fingers. I can’t take my eyes off him. He slowly traces the outline of his lips with my ring finger. And just like that, the plane is in the air and I’ve missed takeoff completely. “You smell good too,” I say, my voice cracking, “I wonder how you taste, Santa.” I want to taste those lips. They are so soft and warm. I want to run my tongue over them. He sees the lust written on my face and smirks at me. “You wanna taste Santa?” he asks, leaning slowly towards me, “What would you like to drink?” interrupts the flight attendant in a bright, overly cheerful tone, “Would you like snacks, too?” I could kill that bitch where she stands. He leans back, still smirking at me…it’s just too much. Why can’t I ever get my way? “I’m good,” I mutter, sulkily, “What I want, you don’t have.”
I stare right at her, hoping she will take the hint and go the fuck away, but she is oblivious. Her eyes light up when she sees him, and it’s easy for me to see that he usually has this effect on women. She shifts slightly, bringing her stupid, perky chest in line with his face. “Can I get you something? Beer, wine, a cocktail? Coffee, tea, soda, water? Nuts, pretzels, what would you like?” I’m floored that she is practically offering herself up to him, but then I would too..and I plan to as soon as I get the chance. Mr Puuurfect is amused, of course. “Nah,” he drawls, and I detect a faint Southern accent, “On second thought, can you make us both a screw…driver?” The flight attendant mumbles something, and walks back to the galley. He looks at me, and I’m again speechless. He’s so fucking handsome. “You are so cute when you pout.” “I’m not pouting,” I say in irritation as I stand up, “she was just rude.” Suddenly I’m hot…hot and bothered…but mostly hot. I’ve worn a pretty little sundress under my long wool coat-I figured it would be really hot when we landed. I jerk the belt open and notice that he’s watching me in anticipation. I step between his legs and lock eyes with him. Well, that’s more like it, I can work with this. I slowly unbutton the coat, knowing I have his complete attention. I turn so that I’m facing away from him, and look at him over my shoulder as I slip the coat down. He reaches up and snatches the coat off me and throws it into the seat next to him.
“I like that dress Baby,” he says, “I’d like to see you take it off, too.” He runs his hand up my leg. I smile at him and see the flight attendant approaching with our drinks out of the corner of my eye. I turn around and start unbuttoning my dress and his eyes almost pop out of his head. I flutter my eyelashes at him and now he’s looking at me like I’m Santa Claus. Just as I get to the button between my boobs, the flight attendant appears. “Here you go!” she says in that same annoyingly bright voice, “Two screwdrivers!” He groans in frustration and gives her a dirty look. “Thank you, ” he says in a sarcastic tone, “Can you set them down, I’m about to have my hands full.” “Ma’am, I’m sorry but the captain has not turned off the Fasten Your Seatbelt Sign. I’m going to have to ask you return to your seat,” she says, “I’ll put your drinks right here, sir.” She looks at me expectantly and I realize she’s waiting for me to sit down and buckle up. He is glaring at her, gritting his teeth. I smile at him as I sit down, “Sugar, will you buckle me up please?” I hand him the ends of the seatbelt and squirm in my seat. He smooths my dress over my thighs and carefully buckles me up. “You are so cute when you pout,” I say in his ear, “you poke that sexy bottom lip out.”
He leans closer to me and I see my chance. I nibble lightly on his earlobe and suck it gently. He shakes his head and sits back. “I’m not pouting,” he says, flashing me that adorable grin, “you are right, she IS rude.” He hands me my drink, and I take a long sip. This could be very interesting. We stare at each other and I can feel the heat between us. Yep, this is going to be interesting. “I didn’t get to sit on Santa’s lap,” I say, “and it appears that I have so much to ask for.” I give him a pleading look that signals that I meant â€œbeg for.â€ I finish my drink, vaguely worried that I haven’t had anything to eat. I’ve heard about people who get really drunk on planes, something about the altitude making the alcohol stronger. He takes my empty glass from me.
“Santa has a tight schedule, but we will just have to see what we can work out today. I’m staying at the Ritz. I’m coming to town to play Santa for my sister’s kids,” he says, “Why are you giggling?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. I’m cracking up, YAY ME! It just gets better and better! “Well, first of all, you said, ‘I’m coming to town’â€ I nearly crack up. â€œsecond of all, I’m staying at the Ritz, too,” I can hardly hide the glee in my voice, “I think I have hit the Christmas Jackpot!” He grins at me in understanding. “It does sound like I’m finally going to have someone to help me get dressed and pack my sleigh,” he grabs my hand again, “I’ll make it worth your while, little girl.” He puts my hand on his fly so I can feel him and stares deeply into my eyes, “We are going to make you feel really good, Baby.” Shit! Is this a setup? Does he have a friend that he works in tandem with?? I didn’t sign up for elf sex. I’m starting to panic, then I realize he’s talking “we” as in him and his cock.
“If you keep that up, Santa, we are going to get in serious trouble,” I smile at him, “We wouldn’t want to divert these nice people to Albuquerque.” He takes my hand off his cock and moves it to my lap. “Yeah, I’d rather not be met at the gate by security, either,” he smiles that gorgeous smile again, “we need to just make a deal so we can make it through the rest of this damned flight.” He looks serious, “this is really what’s in the best interest of the world’s children. Santa needs to work through this sexual tension so he can focus on his work tomorrow night.” “So it would be sorta be like Community Service, Santa?” I smirk at him, “because I’m very community-minded.” I giggle at the thought.
He smiles and leans towards me. “Hell yeah! It would be more like World Service. You think I can get a bit of work done with this?” He looks down at his lap and I follow his gaze. He has an enormous bulge in his jeans. I’m definitely getting the better end of this deal. “Oh Santa, you have such large, bulging….muscles,” I coo at him, “how ever do you stay in shape for this hard work ahead? Do you lift weights?” Oh yeah I’m getting the best end of this deal! “Actually, I swim. I was on the swim team in college.” Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe my most excellent fortune. And this certainly explains his long lanky form. “Santa, I’d like to amend my previous statement!” I say in alarm. “You’ve changed your mind?” he looks at me with a worried expression, “You don’t wanna help all the little children in the world?” “Yes, I definitely do, but…”
I pause for the drama,
“I prefer to be teased when you are wearing nothing but your hat and a Speedo…a white Speedo to be precise.” I smile up at him. He visibly relaxes. “Oh I think that can be arranged. My school colors were blue and white.” he says with a relieved grin, “I chose the Ritz because of the swimming pool. I swim everyday….in a Speedo.” Suddenly my ears are buzzing from my heart pounding so hard. Can he really be serious? A Speedo? On him? It would be torture of the best kind! I really feel for those poor lifeguards. “Oh Santa, I think I need to see that,” I look into his dark eyes, “I better make sure you don’t over do it on the most important day of the year.”
He’s laughing now, obviously relieved that I was joking with him. I’m again reminded of how young he is…or at least how young he looks. “It’s a deal, then. We meet by the pool an hour after we check in,” he smiles at me, “And I’ll show you exactly what I’m talking about. You are going to have to be very good until then.” He adjusts his bulge with a pained expression.
The intercom crackles to life. â€œWe’re now approaching Pheonix, the temperature is 96 degrees this beautiful morning, please turn off all electronic devices and stow your bags below your seat. On behalf of your Houston based flight crew, thank you for flying with us!â€ “Hey! We are about to land! Wanna share a cab?” I can’t believe the flight is nearly over, but I’m very very glad…I don’t think I can stand much more of this. He’s so sexy. “I’d love to share a cab with you, Santa,” I laugh, “and I’m definitely going to meet you by the pool.” Hell yes I am, with fucking jingle bells on..who am I to deny Santa? This is going to be the best Christmas EVER.
Two hours later, I step out of the hotel into the bright Arizona sun. I spot Mr. Purrfect lounging on a white deck chair by the pool, wearing nothing but mirrored sunglasses and a white Speedo…oh yeah, and the Santa hat too. Jackpot! He has his legs spread, and I can see the outline of his thick cock draped almost over his hip, barely contained by the skimpy fabric. I smile, because I know this is all for my benefit, but I decide to chastise him anyway for teasing me all morning. Fucker. As I get closer, I can see that he has already been for a swim. The sun is glinting off the drops of water clinging to him and my mouth suddenly goes dry. I silently creep up on him and I’m hypnotized by a single drop of water working its way down his abs. I lean over to run my finger through it, and he quickly grabs my wrist before I can touch him. “Baby, you’re blocking my sun,” he drawls in his deep sexy voice.
I rethink my strategy, realizing that I’ve somehow lost the upper hand, dammit. “Um, I was just checking to make sure you aren’t getting cold in that tiny bathing suit you’ve stuffed yourself into,” I say innocently, “I wouldn’t want you to catch pneumonia out here.” I look down and realize his cock is growing, and now I can see the head just starting to poke out of the top of his suit. He puts my hand on his bulge and holds it there, one hand still around my wrist, the other hand holding my hand flat against his cock. “Baby, don’t lie to me, it ain’t cold out here,” he grins, “You were coming over here to get a closer at me in this tiny white bathing suit.” He presses my hand harder against his huge cock. “Can you feel how hot I am?” He’s so fucking sexy when he smiles like that at me. I can only stare into the mirrored sunglasses and nod. “Time for you to sit on Santa’s lap and tell me exactly how naughty you’re going to be.” He pulls me down on him so that I’m straddling him, holding both my wrists behind my back with one hand. My pussy is in contact with his cock, which is now rock hard. I start to grind against him, longing to feel his lips against mine. “Oh no,” he says, his voice getting husky, “don’t move Baby, I’m the one doing the fucking here.”
I groan in frustration. “You want Santa to make you cum, don’t you, Baby,” he says with a smile as he pushes his thumb under the edge of my pink lace panties and starts rubbing my clit in circles, “MMMMMmmmm, your pussy is so wet, Baby. I’m so glad you wore that dress today.” I start to cum, but he still won’t let go of my wrists and my hips start to jerk against his thumb. “Don’t move Baby, or I won’t fuck you,” he says, smiling at me, “you want Santa to fuck you, don’t you? I’m going to let go of your hands, but don’t touch me.'” I curse him silently as I lean forward to grab the back of the lounge to steady myself, accidentally lifting my feet off the ground. “I told you not to move Baby. You want Santa to make you cum again?” Now he’s openly laughing at me, so pleased with himself. I nod, “Do it again! Hurry!”
He scoots me back a little and frees his rock hard cock from the tiny bathing suit. “Remember Baby, no moving. I’m doing the fucking,” he says as he rubs his cock against my clit through my wet panties. He’s smiling that sexy smile at me that drives me crazy. “Please,” I beg him, “fuck me now.” He very slowly pulls my panties to the side and slides his cock deep into my soaking wet pussy, grabbing my hips with his big hands and grinding me down on him in a circular motion. Oh fuck it feels so good I can hardly remember where I am. I can feel another orgasm coming and he knows it too. Right when I start to cum, he thrusts up into me, jamming me down onto his cock with each thrust. “Cum on my big cock, Baby,” he whispers in my ear, “I want you to cum for me.” I cum again when he starts nibbling on my neck and grinding me down on him in circles. I can’t stop orgasming and I lose track of how many times I’ve cum.
The feeling of him alternating the circular grinding with upward thrusts is so crazy I fall limply against his chest, soaked in sweat and exhausted. “You like that don’t you, Baby? You want Santa to fuck you some more?” I open one eye and squint up at him, “Is this a pop quiz, Sugar? Cause you know damn good and well I can’t think straight when you do that to me.” He smiles that sexy smile and reaches down to rub my clit again with his thumb, causing me to moan and spread my legs wider. “This is the pop quiz, Baby. How many times can Santa make you cum before the sun goes down? We’ve got plenty of daylight left.” Oh…my…god…I’d at least like to go inside before the hotel staff calls the police…but I really don’t care…Merry Christmas to me!