Father Christmas’ Great Red Coat Ch. 02

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Part 2

“Elvin couldn’t believe. He said I couldn’t possibly want…” she tailed off. It was the end of the afternoon shift. They were in Malcolm’s changing room. He had sat down, and she had popped up onto his knee. There had been no question the action was sexual. Not where she put her hand.

“I had asked him if I might… but he said surely I couldn’t really want…”

Malcolm finished for her. “To fuck an old man, is what I expect he said. A really old bloke.”

Sylvie looked embarrassed. “Well, that’s sort of…”

“Meaning, yes! That’s exactly what he meant!” Of course, Elvin did. Father Christmas illusion or not — Malcolm was another man and an old one at that!

“I explained having worked with you… How soft your white hair is — all over.” Sylvie’s hand slipped into his robe and patted Malcolm’s pubic hair. The snow-white patch of curls, springy and soft under her patting fingers. There was white hair to his chest, even a sprinkling to his back and most certainly legs. “I told him what a big present you had for little girls. He didn’t believe me.” Sylvie’s fingers encircled.

“Did he want to see?”

“Opening your red coat and… I like that idea, Malcolm, I really do. You in all your Father C. stuff, your long red robe, and black boots but nothing underneath and out you come! I don’t know what the young mothers would think, Malcolm, if they knew.”

“We are all naked under our clothes.”

“Yes, but, it’s just different with no trousers or underpants.”

“Like a woman in fur coat, boots and nothing else.”

“That’s an image I like. Come in, miss, out of the cold and let me warm you up!”

“You’d like those young mothers on your knee wouldn’t you, Malcolm, not so much as feeling in your sack for a present as feeling under your robe to see what was there. They can make a wish if it’s hard!”

Malcolm’s wishing stick was hard in Sylvie’s hand.

“What are you wishing for, Sylvie.”

“To make this disappear inside me.”

“You sure? Did Elvin?”

“He said, OK, go and fuck the old boy if you really want. He likes you enough, but he didn’t expect… he didn’t expect me to like you that much. Um… could I measure? I promised I would.”

Sylvie hopped up from his lap to her handbag. A tape measure, a dressmaker’s flexible tape measure in her hand. “May I measure your penis, Mr Butteridge, for size?”

Malcolm stood as Sylvie knelt, opening his robe so his firm penis stood for the girl. A very manly feeling for him, standing so strongly erect. Sylvie did some pleasing strokes to make sure he was indeed fully firm, and then stretched the tape up it from pubic hair to tip before encircling close to his snow-white curls.

“Seven and three-quarter inches and five and a quarter around. Elvin’s going to be impressed. He’s five inches and four and a quarter round.”

Sylvie was sitting there in her pinafore long dress; it had rucked up a little, so her knees showed above her long red socks. She still had on her bright red woolly bobble hat and her black pigtails moved as she talked. Malcolm reached and began undoing the buttons of her red shirt. A privilege he seemed now to have. The young girl did not stop him, nor when he reached inside brassiere and shirt to fondle a breast. The nipple was hard suggesting a woman ready for sexual intercourse. In her hand Malcolm’s prick — it too was hard and ready for sexual intercourse.

“Would you like to shower with me, Malcolm?”

He was not averse! Standing he watched Sylvie undress and then undid his broad leather belt and took off his robe. Possibly a fine figure of a man — an old man — naked but for black shiny boots. His long white beard and equally white hair, his white body hair and snow-white pubic hair; indeed, a bit of a paunch but did not that make him the more like Father Christmas and, of course, there was that impressive prick rising from the snow-white curls.

Sylvie smiled at him, amused perhaps at how the black boots added to his allure. What was she doing with a man old enough to be her grandfather — great grandfather perhaps? He was sure it was the Father Christmas connection. Did she like the idea of being an elf looking after him… seeing to his needs — and were her thoughts that Malcolm’s ‘wonderful’ cock certainly looked needy?

Sylvie led him into the shower. She had turned the water on — and taken her socks off, bending at the waist to do so and deliberately doing so with bottom towards Malcolm, was she half wondering if she might feel a fleshy hardness catching her not quite unawares! Sylvie liked a shower at the end of the day and no doubt it was even better to have a man in there with her. She reached for the soap. No doubt Father Christmas would expect his elves to soap him at bath time.

A rather nice thought in Malcolm’s head of Father Christmas in a big slipper bath in the middle of a bathroom with several elves clustered around, their red shirts sleeves rolled up and washing him with soap, sponge and brush perhaps singing a merry bathing song. Would the elves keep losing the soap and Rus Escort having to feel for it; might one have to get naked and get in with Santa to find it; would Santa’s big cock surface and wave around to their giggles; would the elves take it in turn to suck? Father Christmas standing after his bath, being towelled by the merry elves, standing with white beard, twinkling eyes, rounded stomach, and powerfully upstanding cock

Sylvie dropped to her knees and as the warm water cascaded down, she sucked, her eyes closed luxuriating in the pleasure of a really good suck — and on such a big organ to boot. She raised herself up and put her arms around Malcolm’s neck and drew herself up.

She was not a large girl and even at his age, Malcolm was a strong man able to bear her weight, helped by leaning back against the tiled wall. Sylvie drew herself up and then let herself down, knees open either side of his hips and stomach and let her body slowly slipping downwards. Malcolm just held her, ensuring she fell neither to left nor right — or backwards away from him; her thighs wide apart as down she came so his knob was right at her entrance, pausing as if she was balanced upon it, and then slowly her weight, not great but more than sufficient, took over. There was no thrusting on his part. Sylvie’s weight did everything. Slowly her feet descended inch by inch to the shower tray as Father Christmas’ thick cock was forced up into her — forced by her weight alone, her feet and legs dangling. Sylvie shuddered in sexual excitement — she was on Father Christmas’ spike — was being ‘spiked.’ Up and up into her body went the rigidly firm and so substantial organ until dark curls merged with white and her feet touched the shower tray. They were engaged in sexual intercourse. Sylvie all of twenty-five had a cock three time older than that inside her — really inside her. It was pretty much all in. She paused trembling, never having felt such a cock.

“How’s that, Santa?”

“Just perfect, Sylvie. Your wet warmth is simply a delight.” He moved it, just half an inch up and down. “And for you?”

“I feel so full.”

“Stuffed?”

A giggle. “Yes! Will you be leaving some stuffing behind?”

“I might… I might well.” And the fucking began in earnest.

It would be difficult for Malcolm not to leave his ‘stuffing’ behind or rather difficult for Sylvie to avoid receiving it. She was well and truly pinned on top of his cock, very much riding it. Sex in the shower, so sensual with the water streaming down. Malcolm’s hands clasping Sylvie’s bottom cheeks as he moved her up and down and she very much helping, pushing herself up with toes against the shower tray and then relaxing her ankles to let herself slip back down the cock. She was very happy to be enveloping it, having her sex rubbed and stimulated. Pleasing sexual noises coming to their ears — sucking and squelching sounds.

“Do you like boys as well as girls?” It was out of the blue. Quite out of the blue. Was it because he had been so forward as to have his right forefinger up to the knuckle in her bum?

“Why would you think that?”

“I just… I just wondered.”

“Do you like girls then?”

Sylvie shook her head. “No, I think I’d have difficulty with the other elves but, I suppose, elves do as Father Christmas tells them. Would Father Christmas like watching the girls together? Would he tell them what to do?”

Malcolm’s white head went up and down in agreement. Like most men, lesbianism pleased. Women without men — cockless sex — sex with something very definitely missing! But, of course, all those so pleasing boobs and warm wet places, shapely bottoms and pretty faces and bodies — a delight to the eye and a stimulation to that organ missing from the scene.

The elves would certainly do as Father Christmas said or there would be spanking. Forced or rather commanded lesbianism. Malcolm liked the idea. Girls kissing girls always so erotic. Nice to think of telling Sylvie to kiss another girl ‘properly.’ How about that pretty girl he had seen in Ladies Lingerie. Not actually herself in lingerie — and would he not like to see that, yes, white lingerie contrasting with her deliciously black skin — but working in the lingerie department of the department store. She seemed ever so shy. How would she find it as one of his elves being told to kiss Sylvie. Nice enough imagining them one on each knee in the grotto in their elf outfits and him bringing their faces together. And what else might he bring together somewhere more private. Nipple to nipple. Hard pinky red nipples against equally hard black ones. And then might he make them each kiss other lips. French kiss of course — with tongues. Not to stop until they had made the other come.

Finally allowing them up with wet, girl scented faces and rather startled expressions. Time for them to lick his cock – but together.

“I prefer women but…” he shrugged his shoulders, unsure of quite why Sylvie was asking. He did not want to seem too keen. “… I could cope if Sincan Escort needs be.” His finger went further into her bottom as his cock pounded her the more.

In the lift heading down to the car park, Sylvie asked, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

The fuck had been successful for both parties.

Sylvie had come first and the noises she made — noises he had not heard before having merely been able to see (merely!) but not hear the sounds from Elvin and her bedroom. Clearly elves rather squeaked when coming. Was that a sound heard often in Father Christmas’ cabin up at the North Pole? Peaking in from outside would a sight not at all the sort of Christmas card scene meet the eye and might the sound of squeaking from many elves drift over the snowy landscape? Sylvie had indeed come and then so had he, pouring his ‘stuffing’ out and up into her. Perhaps more ‘white sauce’ for her Christmas pudding than stuffing but… nonetheless Malcolm’s first real, not imagined, fuck for a very long time.

“Normally I meet up with my sister and her family at… we own this cottage. It was our great aunt’s, and we’ve sort of kept it for holidays and so on. Sentimental really. Middle of nowhere but lovely in the summer and well, we usually meet there for Christmas but she can’t this year so I might just stay here at the flat. Always fun with her children at the cottage, well her grandchildren now. A busy house and a real family Christmas, not having a family of my own. We got snowed in one year. The children — that was her children then — loved that. You know, snowmen, igloos, snowball fights and importantly plenty of wood for the fires. It’s a bit basic.”

“Sounds lovely. Like Father Christmas’ place in Lapland. I can just imagine you there in your coat and boots.”

“It’s not a log cabin! And I don’t usually dress like this. And not that much fun on your own, hence I might stay at my flat. I don’t know, I might go but perhaps not the most sensible thing to do at my age — on my tod. I shall probably give it a miss.”

It was the next day, after their day’s work. It was clear Sylvie had something to ask. As was becoming usual, she sat on Malcolm’s lap. Upon the table the management had placed a bowl of fruit. They seemed to be looking after their Father Christmas. “I wondered, Malcolm… I wondered if… Elvin and I were talking, and we don’t really want just to stay in the flat over Christmas. It occurred to me…” Sylvie picked up a banana from the bowl and fingered it. To Malcolm it was all rather suggestive the way she was moving it around her fingers. “I mean you’d like to go to your cottage, but your sister can’t make it with the children, and you don’t want to be there on your ‘tod’. A shame, but would it be a second best… I mean sort of win win… we get to go away, and you get to the cottage if… might we stay with you there over the holiday. It might snow and we get trapped in. Exciting! Would you mind?”

Malcom liked the idea. He liked it very much. “We could take board games and snowy walks are always good and there’s plenty of logs and coal to keep us warm. That’s a nice idea, Sylvie. I’d be delighted to play host.”

“Goody! You could bring your robe and be Father Christmas and we could wear elf outfits. What fun. I’d love to see you dressed like that out in real snow. And, and, Malcolm… we could have sex. We could play seasonal sexual games.”

“But… Elvin…”

“How much do you like cocks, Malcolm? Do you like to play with cocks other than your own?” She had reached into his robe and was stroking him but had the banana in her other hand and made a pretence of having two cocks within her hands, pretending to wank the banana as she was wanking him. “Do you like to feel male hardness, Malcolm?” She brought the banana into his robe and against him, touching his erection with it and then holding them in her hands together. His penis curving away from the banana, the banana curving away from him until she squeezed, and his knob came up against banana. Sylvie was rubbing his cock against the banana. Sylvie grinned — a very naughty look, “I like the idea. I like the idea very much.”

“But will Elvin?”

“He’ll have to come to like it… no, I’m sure he will. I just like the idea, the thought of the two of us sitting one on each knee as you… play with us, your fingers in my pussy and your other hand around Elvin’s cock — your own rising out of your robe. Could you do it, Malcolm, would you mind, could you play with Elvin’s cock and have him and me play with yours?”

Beneath his snowy white beard Malcolm smiled at Sylvie, “I don’t think I’d have too much trouble about that. I can cope…”

“…if needs be,” added Sylvie.

Malcolm’s seasonal employment was at an end. No work for a Father Christmas after the big day. Malcolm would be able to have a bit of a lie in now he was no longer a working man — though there were other pieces of work he seemed to be able to pick up. And he had his pension. But before a return to his more usual routine, he Sıhhiye Escort had a little seasonal break to attend to. A shame not seeing the grandchildren, but it seemed the disappointment was to be tempered by a different sort of pleasure. Sylvie and Elvin playing very different games. Malcolm packed his Father C. outfit and wondered what else to pack. Warm clothing certainly but what about pyjamas? Would it matter if he met Sylvie or Elvin on the landing of the cottage both heading for the bathroom in the middle of the night if he was naked given what seemed in prospect? Malcolm’s cock began to thicken as he thought of meeting a naked Elvin on the landing both stark naked and both ‘piss proud.’ Perhaps standing and conversing with their penises at full stand with the moonlight slanting in at the window. Not at all ‘I’ll met by moonlight, proud Titania.’ Elvin was neither woman (or female fairy, if, perhaps, to be an elf!) and the prospect of meeting the young lad naked and erect was certainly not ‘ill’ to Malcolm. What might the little holiday at his cottage bring. Malcolm smiled remembering how Sylvie had rubbed the banana against him. Elvin’s cock might well stand proud but not as proud as his. Malcolm could see the reflection in his mirror. He might be an old and very white-haired man but that was indeed some cock he sported. Malcolm stroked imagining not simply meeting Elvin by moonlight but a touching of their cocks, rubbing them there on the landing — soft penile skin and smooth knob ends stroking together.

Might perhaps Elvin beckon him and lead him into their bedroom to see Sylvie asleep. Unlikely in the winter the covers would be off, but it was a nice image. The two of them standing in the doorway looking at her sleeping form and both wanking. Malcolm certainly was wanking at the thought, bringing himself to the edge imagining Elvin and he ejaculating together over the sleeping girl. A longer quotation from Midsummer Night’s Dream came to him, one he had learnt by rote at school:

‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:

There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,

Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight.’

Malcolm smiled. Sylvie as Titania in her bower — in her bed all unknowing as she is watched. How good for two men to come up to a sleeping girl. Take in her charms and cum all upon her.

Not take her as such or even touch but just cum. A not uncommon fantasy. Coming into the bedroom of a sleeping young woman — a babysitter or friend’s daughter perhaps and looking.

Malcolm, though, needed to get going, needed to pack the car and collect the two of them. It was a long drive, and they would arrive late at the cottage. It was neither time to be wanking and certainly not to empty his balls into his hand or wherever: after all, he might well need that semen later on! He continued packing. No pyjamas but he did have a nightshirt. That might be fun.

It was indeed a long drive, Sylvie ended up asleep in the front seat beside Malcolm and he was not sure that Elvin did not drop off as well in the back. They would not know where they were when they awoke; did not see the snow start to gently fall — not enough to impede the driving but enough to give the landscape a dusting of whiteness. Malcolm was sure there would be more by the morning. The car bumped up the final track and stopped outside the old stone cottage. The bumping and rocking of the car on the unmade track did not seem to wake Sylvie but the sudden quiet when the engine stopped did.

“Are we here?”

“We are indeed.” Malcolm opened the car door, and the flash of the car’s internal light momentarily hid everything. They all got out and doors were closed plunging them back into darkness. Around them they could dimly make out the hills and moors and the sheer loneliness of the cottage.

“Oh, wow, it’s snowed!” Just a dusting still but it made the scene white even in the sudden darkness. Hardly a light to be seen anywhere — the cottage was remote — just the stars twinkling.

“Grab your bags and come on in.” The car boot opened and then Malcolm reached for the old key and turned it in the lock of the front door to the cottage. He flicked the switch and the yellow glow of the electric light from inside the house was momentarily blinding, and then Malcolm was inside, and the others followed. First things first, the lighting of the wood burner to start to heat the house after its long rest. Then the kettle on, before Malcolm showed them around. Bags up to their bedroom and then he left them to it whilst he busied himself making tea and a late supper.

Good to sit around the wood burner as the room warmed. It was not time for sexual play. That would be on the morrow. This was just a comfortable settling in after a long journey and late arrival. Malcolm stayed sitting by the fire after his guests had gone up to bed. Sent with two hot water bottles. He heard the creaking of the floorboards above as they moved around and the on/off of the plumbing. It was good to be back at the cottage. He filled the wood burner so it kept warming the house through the night, needed after its long rest, and went around tidying, washing up and setting things ready for the morrow. Breakfast things set out upon the table.

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