by Jenna Jugzz
"What are you guys doing?" Little Billy asks, staring up at us with one eyebrow raised. Shit, not now!
Mr. Michaels pulls back and my hand quickly slips out from his jeans.
"N--nothing, son!" Mr. Michaels says, adding an awkward laugh at the end. "I--uh, need to run out for a bit." He turns to me, avoiding eye contact. "Carmen, could you--watch him for me, I'll be back..." He spins around and marches toward the door. When it slams shut, Billy asks me,
"Do you two like each other or something?"
******
Billy and I are sitting in the living room, watching Christmas specials wondering when the hell his father is going to be back. My pussy is wet and ready for him.
"It's getting late. Why don't you put some milk and cookies out for Santa?" I tell Billy, who looks like he's getting anxious. Must be nice to be a kid on Christmas Eve.
I'm helping him place the plate of cookies in front of the fireplace when we hear a loud clang coming from up above.
"Ah--ow!" Someone yells. It sounds like it's coming from in the fireplace. We turn to look at each other, and I see Billy's eyes light up with glee.
"Santa?" He whispers to me. We turn our attention back to the fireplace, straining our necks to peer up into the dark shaft. A black cloud of smoke fills the living room when two black boots land on the brick floor of the chimney.
Mr. Michaels looks so dorky in that Santa outfit. It's so obviously him too with that fake beard drooping beneath his chin, swaying when he turns his head. No kid could be that dumb. I think Billy just plays along so his Dad doesn't feel bad. He's a good kid.
No one could say Mr. Michaels doesn't try, though. He went down the goddamned chimney for Christ's sake! That's some serious commitment. I don't think that thing has been swept in a decade. He has to buy a new Santa suit each year because all that black shit is impossible to get out. That can't be good for his lungs, either.
Mr. Michaels doubles over in a fit of coughing when he emerges from the small black space in the wall. A black puff of smoke rises and dissipates into the warm living room air while he's hammering his sternum with a fist.
"Ho-h-" Mr. Michaels chokes, bending over and holding his knees. When his coughing comes to a lull, he lifts his head to say, "Ahem. Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!"
"Hey Da---I mean---it's Santa!" The feigned enthusiasm in his tone would be obvious to anyone else but Mr. Michaels.
"Why hello there, little Billy!" I have to admit, Mr. Michaels is adorable. "Tell me, have you been a good boy this year?"
"Shouldn't you know already?" Now little Billy is being a little smart ass. Mr. Michaels shoots me a quick glance, coughs out more smoke, then composes himself.
"Ho-ho-ho! Of course, of course! You've been really good this year. Santa is proud of you!" He leans to give Billy a gentle pat on the head. "Now, where did I put it..." Billy raises an eyebrow, looking like he is struggling on the inside to stop himself from bursting with laughter.
"Ah---here it is!" Billy has already torn into the wrapping of the small rectangular box before Santa has even let go of it.
"Oh my god! Super Dragon Fighter VI!" Billy jumps up and down, hugging the box against his chest.
"What do you say to Santa?" I ask Billy.
"Thanks D--thank you, Santa!" In his eagerness, Billy runs off to his room without even saying goodbye.
I give Mr. Michaels a little wink.
"You're a total mess, y'know." I wipe away some of the dark charcoal on his cheek with my own spit. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." I grab Mr. Michaels by the hand and lead him to the master bedroom.
******
I sit Mr. Michaels down on the bed and work at getting his black leather boots off.
"That was really sweet what you did for Billy," I say. Then I snicker when I get his boot off to reveal blue and green Christmas socks with reindeer faces on the toes. "You really did go all out, didn't you?" We laugh together and Mr. Michaels leans back onto the bed, covering his face to hide his embarrassment.
"Well I thought it was adorable. There aren't many fathers who would go to so much trouble to make their kid happy." When I get the second boot off, I start eyeing his thick red coat with the furry white cuffs. I wonder if he'll let me take it off him.
Before he has a chance to react, I get on to the bed and saddle myself across his pelvis. I reach to undo the front of the jacket with both hands and manage to reveal part of his bare torso underneath before he catches me by the wrists.
"What're you--"
"Shhhh..." I whisper. "We don't want Billy to hear us." I glance down at the nipple peeking out from underneath and my tongue darts to the corner of my mouth. The sight of his bare chest has my senses going wild with lust.
"But--you're the babysitter. It just wouldn't be--" I press an index finger to his lips while bending down to press the flat of my tongue against his exposed nipple. My tongue glides up his bulging pectoral, leaving a wet sheen of saliva that glistens in the dim light of the bedroom.
"You haven't given me what I want for Christmas." Mr. Michaels' lips begin to tremble. "And this girl always gets what she wants from Santa Claus... every year." When I feel his grip on my wrists loosen up, I take advantage by slinging both sides of the jacket off his chest.
I press both palms firmly into his rippling abdomen and begin to rock my hips against his pelvis. I can feel his growing dick through the soft fabric of his pants. I lift off my shirt and unhook my bra, letting it fall onto his chest, watching it rise and fall with each rapid breath.
I bounce myself up and down, slamming against his pelvis while rocking my hips. Mr. Michaels' gaze is fixed on my supple tits as they jiggle and bounce together. My finger rolls over the muscles of his toned six-pack, curling to work at his brown leather belt.
When I get the buckle undone, I whip the belt off with a quick snap. Staring down at the bulge of his pants, I grab hold of my breasts, squeezing them together, saying, "I want you inside me."
I kneel down onto the carpet floor and pull down on the waist of his pants. Mr. Michaels' erect cock springs into the cold air, and my lips curl into a mischievous grin. I slip the pants down and off his ankles, then move in between his legs.
Gripping his bare thighs with either hand, I lower my head between his legs.
"My, my... Who knew Santa had such a big cock?"
Then Mr. Michaels moans long and deep when he feels the wetness of my tongue sliding along his stiff dick. I work my way up the shaft, slowly, savoring the taste of victory. Mr. Michaels has totally given in to his desire now. It's only a matter of time before I've got this enormous cock balls deep inside me.
When my tongue reaches the head, I lick all around it, flicking playfully at the tip. I can't help giggling at the sight of his legs twitching as my tongue curls around the neck. Then I glide along the length of his shaft, coating it in a thick sheen of saliva.
I wrap fingers around the shaft, hovering my mouth at the head, exhaling warm breath onto his dick as my lips part.
"Is Santa ready to give me my present?" I cup his balls with one hand while stroking the shaft with the other. "I've been a really naughty girl this year..." Mr. Michaels grips the bedspread tight when he feels the warmth of my mouth on his dick. He moans loud enough that Billy must have heard.
The suction of my lips on his head makes a popping sound when I stop a moment to say, "But I like being naughty..."
Then I thrust his cock deep into the back of my throat, as far as I can go before I start to retch. The muscles of throat squeeze his entire length as I bob my head up and down, stroking his cock in the wetness of my whole mouth.
Thick beads of saliva roll down his shaft down to his balls. I gag again and again, but force myself to push past the pain. I am determined to deepthroat his entire cock like an expert whore.
My grip on his thighs is strong enough they have turned red at the spot where my nails are digging in deep. Farther and farther, I plunge his cock into the very depths of my throat, dr
ooling along every inch of it.
My throat swells with the girth of his cock slipping in and out. Droplets of spit dribbling from my lips fall and wet his trimmed pubes.
Mr. Michaels moans and grabs hold of my head, pushing on it from behind to get me down the very last inch. I gulp it down and gargle on his cock, connecting my nose with his abs. Black tears roll from my bloodshot eyes, down my cheeks and off my chin. Holding his cock down my esophagus is making it hard to breathe.
I want to come up for air, but Mr. Michaels holds me there. He groans and clutches the back of my hair with both hands, thrusting his pelvis far enough that his balls tap my chin. My throat clenches out of reflex. The lining my throat burns, stretched by the enormity of his cock lodged inside. I desperately need to come up for air.
His cock twitches in the back of my throat and I know he's getting ready to cum. I tap wildly on his thighs, trying to get him to let me off his dick. But Mr. Michaels seems intent on cumming in my mouth.
No fucking way. If he wants to shoot his load, it's going to be inside my pussy. The whole point of seducing Mr. Michaels is to get pregnant, after all.
I use my hands to push off against the bed to lift my head slowly off his cock. As I hoist myself off his dick, thick strings of saliva cling between his shaft and my lips. Mr. Michaels is squinting hard, refusing to relinquish his death grip on my hair.
"You can't cum yet, Mr. Michaels..." I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand between heavy breaths. I giggle and stroke the head of his cock a bit, just to tease him. I wince a little at the pain of him clutching tighter on my scalp. His dick continues throbbing in my hand, right on the verge of ejaculation. "You haven't even started fucking me yet."
With that, his grip begins to loosen and blood returns to the white of his knuckles. He sits up on the bed in what looks like excited anticipation. Mr. Michaels has a kinky side to him after all.
I step out of my pants and slip my black lacy panties down just past my ass. I give it a little shake and wink at Mr. Michaels, giggling at the sight of him--slack-jawed, with wide eyes fixated on my round, flushed cheeks. I slap one cheek and wiggle with giddiness. At last, I'm finally about to lose my virginity.
I slide the panties all the way off and crawl up onto the bed, straddling myself just above his cock. I pick up his hands and guide them to the sides of my ass. His hands are cold and trembling against my soft, smooth skin as they travel up from my thighs.
My pussy is dripping wet. I want Mr. Michaels to enter me. His enormous cock twitches beneath my open crotch. I need him inside me.
I wrap delicate fingers around his throbbing shaft and direct it toward my sopping wet entrance. I bite down on my trembling bottom lip as I begin to lower myself down, slowly. Mr. Michaels squeezes my ass cheeks and his eyes roll back when the tip of his dick connects with the wetness of my labia.
The head of his cock parts my folds as the tip enters me. My back arches and my body jolts. The warmth of my pussy wraps tight around the head of his dick. We moan together, loud and long.
The size of him feels like more than I can handle, but the immense pleasure compels me to lower myself farther down onto his cock. The girth of his cock spreads my walls apart as he enters deeper... and deeper...
"Ungh!" I cry out when his cock bottoms out at my cervix. My whole body shudders. The subtle pain is drowned by pure ecstasy. My ass cheeks press against the firmness of his thighs. I can't believe I fit his entire cock inside me!
The tightness of my walls wrap around the whole length of his cock. I compress my walls to squeeze every inch of him, enjoying the sensation of him filling me whole.
The Mr. Michaels groans when he slips in my wetness as I rock my hips against him. I leverage myself with my knees to lift myself up, then slam hard back onto his pelvis. His cock slams into the very depths of me and my spine tingles.
Again and again, I buck wildly against him. My fingernails scrape along the surface of his chest. My wet juices coat the length of his dick as I ride him.
His grip on my ass cheeks gets tighter with every fucking motion. Mr. Michaels holds me down on his cock and drills into me, moaning and squinting hard with every impaling thrust.
I can feel a warm tingle building deep within my core. Mr. Michaels lifts me up with his pelvis with every plunge into my tightness. We moan and cry out with abandon. Little Billy must hear us for sure.
Then my eyes go wide when the head of his cock twitches deep inside me. He must be getting ready to cum.
Desperate for his seed, I press my palms flat against his chest and hold him there. I fight against his thrusting and take control, using every muscle of my core to coax the spunk from his cock. My hips sway and bounce against him, fucking him like an animal, compelled by nature to breed.
"I... I want you to cum inside me..." I say between huffing and groaning. Mr. Michaels seems to pause a moment in hesitation. But it's too late for that now. The head of his cock twitches again at my cervix, ready to explode.
"It's okay..." I say to him, seeing the apprehension in his face. "I want you to..."
I bite down on the corner of my lip and watch his eyes roll back. Mr. Michaels can't hold it back any longer. The expression of his face turns to one of pure ecstasy when he ejaculates inside me.
"I'm fucking c--cumming!" He yells, thrusting himself into me as deep as he can. His legs spasm in a fit of orgasm.
My head tilts back and we moan together. What started as a subtle tingle has erupted into a wave of electricity coursing through my body out to every extremity. Our bodies convulse against one another. My upper body shudders and my legs push hard into his ribcage.
I gasp as his massive load fills my insides. I can feel his warm, thick cum coating my walls. Mr. Michaels just came inside me!
My vision blurs and my mind goes numb. My head droops and I fall forward onto his firm chest. My breasts heave against his hard pecs as the last bits of cum dribble from his dick.
As we lie there together in mutual bliss, I think about what will become of us now. Mr. Michaels has almost certainly impregnated me. Will I finally be able to live the life I've always wanted, free from my controlling mother? Will he have a cute kid together just like little Billy?
Then our bodies tense when the bedroom door creaks open.
Little Billy is standing in the doorway in his pajamas, looking utterly confused. His eyes are fixed on the red and white outfit strewn across the floor.
"S--Santa?"
GAGGING ON THE BILLIONAIRE’S COCK
When he hands me the keys to his car and tells me his name, I know I’ve heard it before.
“It’s Mr. Stone,” he says with a perfect smile, placing the silver keys into my open palm, “take good care of her for me.” His touch is warm and electrifying—the touch of a man with absolute power. The touch of a billionaire.
And now his yellow Lamborghini is mine.
Okay, not really—but at least for the next five minutes. See, I’m just the girl who drives expensive cars for the rich people who are too busy or can’t be bothered to drive it themselves. But in these brief moments, it’s always fun to imagine.
It’s funny how they’d rather trust me, a nineteen-year-old, to drive their car into the hotel parking lot. I might look the part of a responsible, trustworthy valet, but I’m truly reckless at heart.
It’s amazing how well just a little professional attire can deceive people.
“Absolutely, Mr. Stone. It’s my pleasure,” I say to him, the same way I say it to anyone else in an expensive suit. I see them all the time—rich pricks with too much money and too much time—but this one is more handsome than most. Still, the last thing I’d want to do is give any indication that I think so.
“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” I ask in the sort of monotone voice people use when they’ve repeated the same line more times than they can count.
The truth is, no one in their right mind should be handing me the keys to anything worth more
than I make in a decade. Especially to a valet like me who really doesn’t give a shit. I don’t care if your McClarren just got a new paint job, or that you just bought it last week.
In fact, with most of these assholes, I’d love be the one to flick a lit match onto their pride and joy after I doused it in gasoline. Most of these douchebags never earned it anyway. Not like the way I have to earn mine.
The tips aren’t bad though. In this business, it pays to have cleavage like I do. A low cut blouse will earn you a couple hundred a day.
Hell, one guy tipped me with a hundred bucks stuffed between my tits and a hard slap on the ass. He paid me for the service and for his disrespect at the same time. But I’ll take it.
