Christmas on Crack (13 page)

All
at once, all the reindeer began to scream.

We
tried to pry open the car doors, but Betty had done a pro job of wedging us in.
We were trapped, two succulent elf sisters at the mercy of whoever found us.

A
short while later, Santa Claus himself stumbled up to the car. “Strike my
loins, it’s Santa,” Betty said. “What great fortune to find, in such terrible
circumstances, the jolliest man alive.”

Betty
and I had never met Santa before. Naturally, we were excited. He’d retired from
the gift trade and become a recluse before we were born. Even the location of
his ranch was a big secret, so crashing into Santa’s reindeer barn in the middle
of a blizzard was sort of like the best accidental Christmas present ever.

Betty
cranked the window down and said, “We’re terribly sorry, Mr. Claus. My sister
and I were on the way to spend the holidays with our lonely widower father, but
somehow we’ve wound up in your reindeer barn. We’ll do anything to repay you
for the damage. Honest. Anything.”

Santa
looked at us with green eyes that made my pussy wet.

Then
he tore off the driver-side door with a gargantuan gloved hand, pushing me onto
the tip of the orgasm iceberg. I have a thing for large hands.

He
wiped some cookie crumbs out of his beard, winked at us, and turned to assist
Rudolph.

Betty
hopped out of the car and knelt beside Santa. She ripped her sweater down from
its v-neck collar and pulled out her tits. She lowered herself to Rudolph so
the reindeer could suckle, then she grabbed Santa by the back of the head and
guided him to her other breast. She moaned as the reindeer and the old man
nursed.

I
witnessed the action through the windshield. Santa’s mouth was big enough to
suckle ten titties at once. The reindeer bucked on their leashes, anxious for
elf milk. I was fuming with jealousy. Betty and I never fucked, let alone
touched or sucked, any man, woman, child, or beast, without first agreeing on
the job, and we
always
started together. This was a major betrayal on her part.

When
her tits were deflated and empty of milk, Betty tore off her pants and grabbed
Rudolph by the head. The reindeer was dead by this point, but she horn-fucked
him anyway.

I
looked at Santa, hoping he’d slap Betty for mistreating his poor dead animal,
but an erection as big as a whale’s burst through his red spandex pants.

He
forced his cock into the reindeer’s loose asshole. He must’ve worked Rudolph
before.

It
pleased me that Santa preferred a dead reindeer to my sister. I shoved a hand
down my pants and focused on him. I was nearing my climax when Rudolph’s broken
jaw opened, forced wide by the purple head of Santa’s cock. Betty bucked
forward on the horns that must’ve been a foot deep in both her holes. The
cock’s head was bigger than hers, so she pulled a move I’d never seen in my
life. Betty stuck her face in that great gaping pisshole and ate it out like we
used to eat out Mama after Christmas dinner. Santa reached out and stroked her
hair with the pinky of one of his gloved hands. Gently, he pushed her entire
head into the pisshole.

At
first Betty panicked, flailing her limbs and twisting on the horns enough to
cause her pussy to bleed, and Betty’s was an iron pussy. That furball never
bled.

But
with great tenderness, Santa guided Betty in the fine and formerly unknown art
of head-fucking a pisshole.

I
forgot all about my own attempts to orgasm until Santa and Betty came together.
Then I yanked the car key from the ignition and ground the jagged metal teeth
into my vulva, sawing the clitoris clean off. My scream distracted them from
their fuckfest.

Betty
pulled her head out of Santa’s pisshole and slid off of Rudolph’s horns. She
hurried to the driver’s side door and said, “Oh jeez, Mabel, what have you done
to yourself?” Through the mask of semen coating her head and shoulders, I could
see the look of guilt on Betty’s face. I dangled my severed clitoris between
two fingers.

Santa
pushed Betty aside. “Ho ho ho, you didn’t tell me you had a friend,” he said.
He reached one of his massive hands into the car and took my clitoris from me.
He slurped it into his mouth like a string of spaghetti. When he pulled it out,
the fleshy ball was clean of blood. “Sweet as mackerel pie,” Santa said. He
sucked my clitoris into his mouth again, holding it between his lips and gums
like a wad of chewing tobacco. His eyes rolled back in his head. I had a spasm
of delight, seeing the old man enjoy the meat of my loins.

But
I was close to passing out from blood loss. “Santa,” Betty said, in her candied
little girl voice that she adopted whenever she wanted to ask a favor of a man,
“my sister is deathly close to passing out from blood loss, and the blizzard
out there is blowing something fierce. Is there any possible way we could dress
her wounds and lie her down, at least until the storm lets up? Anywhere will
do, even this musty old reindeer barn. We don’t even have to spend the night.”

“Sisters?
Ho ho ho, and just when I thought I’d never get what I wanted for Christmas.
I’ve never had sisters before.”

“But
what about on Christmas Eve?” Betty said, feigning concern.

Santa
laughed a little shyly. “Oh, I’ve occasionally stumbled upon little girls
sleeping in beds and tickled their truffles while they dreamed of me giving
them presents, but I was only touching. I never gave them what I really wanted
to give them, if you know what I mean. Mrs. Claus always said it would sully my
reputation if a bunch of tweens and toddlers who were presumed to be virgins
all got pregnant on Christmas Eve. It’d be inconvenient for me if nine months
later they gave birth to jolly little children with white beards, plump
bellies, and red cheeks. People trust you in the gift business not to fuck little
girls.”

“Well
may we come in?” Betty asked sweetly as blood pooled in the passenger seat
beneath me.

Santa
licked his fat red lips, looking from Betty to me, from me to Betty. “It
depends,” he said.

“Depends?
What does it depend on?” Betty said nervously. I could tell that she was
afraid that Santa would send us back into the blizzard and what with me close
to passing out, it would be totally up to her to ensure we didn’t freeze to
death.

“What
kind of cookies are you willing to offer Santa?” Santa said.

Betty
giggled. “My sister and I bake all sorts of cookies, anything you want, and we
swear they’ll be the sweetest you’ve ever tasted.”

“So
your sister’s clit suggests. Well, I suppose I can put up two stranded elf sisters,
but you have to promise that for my act of charity, you’ll show me all the
charity in the world.”

“Anything
for you Santa.” Betty batted her long eyelashes. “Tell him, Mabel. Tell Santa
you’ll be a good little

sex toy
this Christmas.”

Just
as I opened my mouth to tell Santa the exact number of positions I’ve been
fucked in (97, if you count the nostrils as separate holes) I must have passed
out, because the next thing I remember is the warm fat of Santa’s ample stomach
pressing against my side as I was carried out into the cold, then a fragrant
wash of warm air and the sound of a crackling fire.

I
awoke naked on the stone hearth. I could hear Betty moaning in another room. I
felt between my legs to check if I was still bleeding, I pulled something wet
and soft from my pussy. I brought my hand to my face and sniffed. Cookie dough.
They’d covered my pussy in snickerdoodle cookie dough.

I
licked my hand, tasting cinnamon, sugar, blood, and my own fishiness. They’d
spread a lot of cookie dough between my legs. I decided to save the rest for
later.

I
got up and stood by the fire, warming my backside, then I moved toward Betty’s
moans. I could hear the rhythmic slapping of gigantic balls against her ass,
the grunts and hoots of Santa. Then I heard a shrill scream and the
unmistakable sloppy sound of flesh tearing. This worried me. Betty took a dick
better than anyone. On a good day, her asshole could accommodate two fists and
a dick and be button-tight again in the morning.

I
remember one time over dinner Daddy dared Betty to fuck Biff, the meanest,
horniest bull anyone had ever seen. Biff belonged to the neighbors. They kept
him locked in a pen with electric walls twenty-feet high because Biff was so
mean he’d gore any male he could, and he was so horny he’d fuck any female,
whether they let him or not, regardless of species. Well, Betty never took a
bet lightly.

She
excused herself from the dinner table and came out of her bedroom five minutes
later, wearing the shortest, sexiest dress she owned.

“And
just where do you think you’re goin’?” Daddy asked Betty.

“I
have a date with a bull,” Betty said, and she marched right out of the house.
Daddy and I scrambled after her.

We
followed Betty cautiously as she crossed our property over to the electric pen
of Biff. The voltage surging through that fence could kill a person, but Betty
slipped between the thick wires like a salmon. Daddy called after her, demanding
that she get back out of there immediately.

He
was scared shitless, but not even the imminent death of his own daughter could
compel him to climb into the pen with Biff. I held Daddy’s hand, as much for
his sake as for mine. Biff emerged from the barn, huge bouts of steam rising
from his nostrils. Hoof to back, he stood ten feet tall. Betty kept her distance.

She
looked scared but, after only a moment, she began to sway from side to side,
her hips gyrating sensuously. Biff stamped his feet. Between his hind legs, a
black dick stiffened and swelled. The bull seemed to smile but with animals
it’s hard to tell.

Betty
continued to dance, running her long fingers up her own body. Daddy continued
to shout. Finally, the bull charged, head lowered. He was going to gouge a horn
through Betty before fucking her. Betty bent over and raised her ass into the
air. I thought for sure Biff would stab a horn right through her anus. Instead,
he skidded to a halt and stared, entranced by Betty’s ass. He came up to her on
delicate feet and proceeded to lick her ass with his long black tongue.

We
had thought it was the end for Betty. Instead, she had the beast that had
killed and raped so many eating out her ass.

Daddy
began to cry. “Will you look at that,” he said.

It’s
magic.

Betty
farted once or twice, just to assert her power over the bull. After a while,
she lay down beneath the bull and let him slather her in several gallons of hot
cum. I know it was hot because steam rose off her flesh, and I saw the burns
later that night, when I crawled into Betty’s bed and asked if I could eat her
ass too.

We’d
fucked each other before then, but only casually. The night Betty tamed Biff
was when our sisterhood definitively exploded into something beyond mere
sexuality. It’s when we decided that we would become elf goddesses of love. If
something could be fucked, we’d fuck it, and we’d do it out of love for each
other.

Entering
the kitchen after I’d woken from a blackout caused by clitoral loss, Santa’s
cock usurped all notions of sex I had previously held. Betty was pinned
facedown on the floor beneath the rollicking fat of Santa’s belly. Betty’s
flesh bulged in places, as if snakes were crawling under her skin. It didn’t
take me long to realize they were the veins of Santa’s penis. He’d literally
filled her up. I worried about organ damage and broken bones, but if anyone
could take a full-body cock colonic, it was Betty.

But
instead of pride, I felt that Betty had betrayed me, again. Ever since Biff, we
never fucked apart. It was true that Betty had always dreamed of screwing
Santa, but that was every elf girl’s dream. We dreamed that dream together.

Despite
feeling like the third wheel, I cooed erotically to alert them to my presence,
and jumped into the sexual fray. I sucked on Santa’s toes, a minor pleasure
compared to the full internal fucking Betty was taking from him, but minor pleasures
should never be underestimated during sexual engagement. The slightest brush
of a fingertip along a protruding notch of spine, a kiss behind the knee, the
tickle of hair tossed across a shoulder, a nose pressed into the Adam’s apple
to plant a thought of strangulation . . . minor pleasures were my territory. I
was the solitary snowflake to Betty’s field of snowmen.

So
I sucked on Santa’s scabby toes. The gray cheese between those toes was more than
I expected, but I accepted it gratefully. I tried to quell my jealousy of
Betty, for without her I would not even have Santa’s toe cheese. I sucked on
the toes harder, tonguing beneath the nails more vigorously, yet nothing could
ease the feeling of betrayal.