Date: Wed, 29 Nov 2006 17:06:27 -0800 (PST)
From: James Spaulding <fathercandy@yahoo.com>
Subject: What Santa Knows, part 2

If you enjoy the following story, please contact me at
fathercandy@yahoo.com.  There is more to come.  Santa will have his way.
And the incest will continue...


What Santa Knows, part 2


By standing up, I was able to see what I had been sitting on.  Santa had a
massive cock.  The union suit was stretched to its fullest.  Nine, ten
inches outlined in red. Nine, ten thick inches. The head of Santa's cock
was outlined that much more by his wet spot; Santa's pre-cum had drenched
Santa's crotch.

"I told you to get undressed, Boy."

I listened, removing my tunic, my shorts, my tights as quickly as I could.
All the while watching Santa watch me.  His eyes moved across my body.  I
knew I had a nice cock, but I was never much of an athlete.  I'm fit.
Getting hairy.  But I don't have a swimmer's build.  Or a wrestler's build.
None of that.  That said, Santa was certainly transfixed.  His hand moved
to his crotch.  He squeezed his cock and then his right hand began stroking
it, spreading the wet spot, making his cock even harder.

"I love your cock, Boy.  That is one fine piece of meat."

"Um, thank you, Sir.  I like yours too."

Santa stood, reached into the crotch of his union suit, and pulled out his
cock.  He chuckled.  "This old thing."

I stared.  My mouth opened.  My body shivered in anticipation.  Ten inches
was an understatement.  Santa 's cock was as big as the rest of him Ð it
was huge.  It was thick.  His balls hung low without sagging.  He kept
stroking his cock.  A queer smile on his face.

"So, Derek.  You know what Santa does to bad boys?"  His left hand moved to
his right nipple.  He squeezed it, twisting it enough to hurt.  Of course,
there was no grimace.  Santa liked it rough.

What sort of response was I supposed to give?  I hoped Santa fucked the
hell out of bad boys.  I hoped he rode 'em hard.  I hoped he filled them
with his cum.

"IÉ"

"I'll tell you what he does. He makes 'em wait.  He makes 'em think about
him.  Makes 'em obsess.  But he doesn't let 'em jack their meat.  He makes
'em wait until Santa is ready to take their cum.  Understand,"

"IÉ" I was so fucking speechless.

"Tell me you understand that you get none of this tonight.  And you don't
go home and jack off.  You wait until Santa tells you to cum.  Got that?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir.  I understand."

"Good.  But Santa isn't through with you yet.  Get in the shower."

I moved to the shower and made to turn it on.

"Leave it alone.  Get on your knees."

I got on my knees, hoping his cock was about to break my jaw.  Regardless
of what he had just said.

Instead Santa moved towards me, pulled my head up, and looked into my eyes.
"You ever get pissed on, Boy?"

"UhÉNo, Sir."

"You'll like it."  And with that, Santa took aim.  And he began to piss.
His steady stream drenched my hair.  Drenched my face.  I was so turned on
I had no choice but to open my mouth.  I wanted to get as much of Santa as
I could. He saw his target, and he filled my mouth with his piss.  Without
thinking.  As though I were some sort of new me, some subservient, sex pig.
I swallowed.  And I was happy.  I swallowed Santa's piss and it was the
right thing.  Santa's stream slowed.

"Stick out your tongue, Boy."

I stuck out my tongue.

Santa put his huge hand behind my head and guided my mouth to his cock.  I
was so close.  I was so close to taking it in my mouth.  When Santa
stopped.  He held my head tight.

"Look at me."

I looked.

"Keep that tongue out."  I kept it out.  And Santa used it to wipe the last
drops of piss from his cock.  He used my tongue as if it were some sort of
rag.  He used me.  And I was happy to be used.

"You better turn on the water and use some soap, Derek.  You smell like
piss."

I got in the shower, and reached for the shower curtain.

"Keep it open.  I want to watch."

I reached for the soap and moved to my crotch.  I was so hard.  I was so
aroused.  I was ready to burst.  Two, three strokes, and my cock would
release a torrent of semen.  I began to stroke.

"Stop it.  I told you.  You are not cumming until I tell you to cum.  And I
haven't said anything yet.  Besides.  I'm going to watch you shower.  And
you're going to watch me cum."

Fuck.  This was torture.  I wanted to see Santa cum.  But I wanted him to
cum in me Ð my mouth, my ass.  It didn't matter.  And I fucking need to
cum.  My dick was in pain.  Of course, I soon forgot my pain as I watched
Santa stroke his boner.  He spit into his hands and then his huge paws
engulfed his huge cock.  I watched Santa masturbate.  At one point his left
hand moved back to his right tit.  He twisted.  He tugged.  And his right
hand kept stroking.

The stroking got faster, the twisting got harder, his breathing became more
rapid.

"Look, Baby.  Look.  Santa is about to shoot a load."

And Santa shot.  His first jet flew passed his shoulder.  His second and
third jet landed in his beard.  And the rest of his load covered his hairy
chest.  I wanted to eat all of it.  I wanted to taste him.  But I couldn't.
I knew I wasn't allowed.  Santa gave one last squeeze to his cock, and
raised his cum covered fingers to his mouth.  But then he paused.  He
looked at me.

"You listen pretty well, Boy.  Your hands haven't moved to your cock.
You're not so bad after all.  Santa's got a treat for you."

Santa stood and he walked toward the shower.

"Open your mouth."

I opened.  And Santa fed me his cum covered fingers.

I ate greedily,

"Not bad, Derek.  Not bad, Maybe Santa's got something for you this
Christmas, after all.  Maybe I can find a package you might like."

He handed me a towel.  And as I dried off, he showered.  Soaping up his
massive body.  Removing the cum from his chest and his beard.  He turned
his back to me, and for the first time I saw Santa's ass.  Like the rest of
him, it was covered in fur.  Like the rest of him, his ass was firm.
Large, Not fat.  I watched as his right hand moved between his ass cheeks,
cleaning his ass hole.

Santa turned to me.  A twinkle in his eye.  "Speaking of packages.  Have
you gotten anything for your dad, yet?"  He looked at me.  And he laughed.

Ho! Ho! Ho! Never sounded so hot.  Or suggested so much.

To Be Continued.