Black Santa, Again!

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The atrocious turbulent winds perilously buffeted Santa’s sledge as he cruised in hyper speed over thick banks of clouds over the Atlantic. His sledge came in the form of a flying pink Cadillac with a glowing red light blinking on its chrome like a cop car’s roaming headlight. This Santa couldn’t be bothered about travelling halfway around the world with a set of reindeer creatures. Fuck a red-nosed reindeer, Black Santa snorted before leaving on his mission; gimme a caddy instead.

Santa was on a mission. He had several homes to visit, first across the Northeast Atlantic, then later in the Mid-West. Several wives were on his naughty list that he intended visiting. Their husbands knew he was coming; the wives didn’t, and that was how he wanted it to remain until he got there.

He reduced his speed, lowered his altitude down the bank of cumulonimbus clouds and sights, and saw the distant glowing lights of the city he was first visiting. His Christmas caddy cruised twenty feet over the rooftops of the snow-covered streets and compounds, zeroing in on the particular house he was to visit. It was way past midnight. Nobody dared brave the blizzard outside their doorstep. That was good, so he could come and leave without being observed.

Santa parked his sledge in a snow-covered schoolyard two miles from his intended destination, then waded through ten inches of snow towards that direction. The husband’s name was Ian; his wife was Sammy. Ian had written Santa months ago, complaining about Sammy not believing in Black Santa. She declared he wasn’t real, and if he were, no way would he ever make himself known to her. Ian’s wish was for Black Santa to make theirs an exception and reveal to his wife the true meaning of the holiday spirit.

Black Santa stopped to catch his breath when he arrived at the couple’s front porch, then banged his fist on their door. The door soon opened to reveal the husband. Ian’s eyes grew large with surprise and he had to adjust his glasses on his face to ensure he wasn’t delusional.

“Black Santa,” he gasped. “My God, you really . . . you really exist!”

“You gonna let me in, white boy,” Black Santa growled impatiently. “Or you istanbul travesti think I came all this way to freeze here on your porch?”

“Oh, yes . . . I’m sorry. Do come in, please.”

Ian opened the door further and waited for Santa to finish stomping snow off his boots on their welcome mat before entering the warmth and comfort of his home.

Black Santa unbuttoned his coat, and Ian assisted him out of it, then took off his boots. He wore a pair of leather suspenders under his Santa outfit. He was built like a linebacker and bore shoulder muscles that resembled cushion pillows. His torso was adorned with exotic tattoos down to his chiselled abdomen. Santa looked like he’d come to handle business and wasn’t leaving until the job got settled.

He looked about the living room and then turned to Ian: “Where’s she?”

“Upstairs,” Ian indicated the stairs leading to his bedroom. “She’s busy playing with herself, sir.”

“Ain’t no need for that, white boy - I’m here to take care of that.”

Ian stood back as Black Santa strode towards the stairs and made his way towards their bedroom. He opened the door, and there was Sammy in her Christmas outfit, leg spread apart, shoving a black dildo into her vagina. She was so caught up in her activity that she barely registered when Santa whipped his cock out of his pants, stroking it as he approached her. He came and tapped it against her face. Sammy’s eyes flew open, alarmed at the intruder in her room.

“What the fuck - ”

“No need for hostilities, bitch,” said Santa. “You made my naughty list this Christmas. Go ahead, open your mouth and let me inside.”

Sammy hesitated. Black Santa grabbed one of her tits and pinched her nipple till she squealed. That was when she turned towards him and started sucking his cock. He then relented and began caressing her hair.

“Good. I knew you’d see things my way. This is your Christmas gift I brought for you.”

Ian stood at the doorway, peeping into the room, basking with pride that his wife was sure to get her pussy stuffed this holiday season.

Black Santa grabbed Sammy’s head and kept pressing her to suck his cock better. She turned travesti istanbul over onto her face and began doing a better job. Her lingerie rode over her backside, exposing her rump. Santa reached over and smacked a handful of ass; he couldn’t wait to stuff his turkey between those pair of bubbly ass cheeks.

Sammy sputtered as she choked and slurped on Santa’s thick meat. She rescued her pendulum-sized tits out of her lingerie and slapped his prick against each before returning it lustfully into her mouth. Santa licked his middle finger and rubbed it against her clit before inserting it further into her cunt. Sammy squirmed and moaned from the intrusion, jerking her pelvis as he went ahead finger-fucking her vagina, making her squirt.

“I can’t wait for Santa to stuff me full,” she muttered.

“Well now, let’s see how naughty a slut you’ve been then,” Black Santa gestured at her. “Move on, bitch.”

Sammy made room for him to get into bed with her. Santa laid on his back and Sammy returned to worshipping his cock.

Ian slipped quietly into the room, pulled himself a chair and planted himself there, holding his cell phone and recording the monumental event. This truly was monumental: Black Santa, here in the flesh, getting ready to fuck his wife. This is one for the record books!

Sammy lifted her lingerie when she then came up for air. She climbed onto him, placing both hands on his massive chest while balancing herself on her feet.

Santa wielded his 10-inch cock like a spear.

Sammy impaled herself onto it and murmured a lengthy “Aahhhhh” once the tip of his prick slipped into her cunt.

Ian took snapshots of the moment. He adored the sight of his wife’s twin ass cheeks suspended in mid-air as she then lowered herself onto Santa’s girth.

Sammy kept riding him, going up slow and steady on his dick; her pussy dripped cum juice that trailed down his shaft to his pair of testicles. Black Santa lifted her butt with both hands, aiding her in riding him. Afterwards, he began pistoning his thighs, feeding her pussy with full lengths of his hard-on. Sammy groaned and whimpered her lust. She lowered herself to her knees and began istanbul travestileri twerking her booty on his prick. Santa, still grasping her ass cheeks, matched her rhythm and proceeded fucking her harder.

The bed springs groaned and squeaked from their combined effort. Sammy grabbed onto the headboard, slamming it against the wall, making several wall photos fall from their nailed perch. Ian left his chair to go rescue the photos; Santa and Sammy continued their fucking like he wasn’t in the room.

They switched positions, and Santa then got to be on top of the wife. Sammy locked her ankles over his calves while his thighs and hips did the majority of the exercise. Ian was awed by how his shoulder muscles flexed each time he thrust deep into Sammy. Sammy did work her pelvis to keep up the pace, even though it was tough wrestling with Black Santa’s bulk. Each thrust seemed to knock the wind out of her lungs. She groaned and broke into spasms as he kept thrashing her pussy.

He tensed when his climactic moment arrived and pumped load after load down her womb. Sammy wasn’t on the pill, and it wasn’t until weeks later that she realised she was carrying a miracle baby - Black Santa’s baby!

Santa came off her after concluding his mission. Sammy was too weak to get off the bed and remained there while Santa wore back his pants and suspenders. He kissed her one last time, then headed downstairs with Ian following behind. Ian handed him his coat after he finished wearing his boots.

“Won’t you mind staying a while, Santa? It’s mighty cold outside.”

“Not for me it is,” Black Santa said.

He unfolded a paper out of his coat pocket. The paper was his naughty list and contained names of women he intended to visit between now and New Year’s Eve. He extracted a pen from his front pocket and crossed out the first name on the list - Sammy.

“I’ve got more naughty bitches to get off my list tonight,” he said after pocketing back his pen and folding the paper into his pocket. “I’ll be seeing you around, white boy. Tell your bitch to take good care of my gift once it comes.”

Ian was puzzled by what he meant but said nothing as he opened the door and watched Black Santa head out into the cold, snowy night.

It won’t be until weeks later, when Sammy shares the good news with him, that he will recall Black Santa’s last words. Only then would he realise what Santa meant. By then, it was already too late.

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