Page 34 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

We walked hand in hand to the workshop. Nils explained it was Elf Day, a day of rest for all the elves, which explained the quietness and lack of the usual bustle.

The workshop was incredible. Everywhere I looked, there were toys of all shapes and sizes, half-finished projects, and sketches of new ideas. Nils showed me around, his pride in the work evident in every word he spoke. I exclaimed over the different toys, each more intricate and fascinating than the last.

As we moved through the workshop, I asked him about his trip around the world in one night. He laughed, a sound that warmed me from the inside out. “Time here is different. What seems like one night to you is actually three days for us. It gives us just enough time to make all the deliveries.”

I looked at him in awe. “That’s amazing.”

“Maybe someday you’d like to go with me.”

I sucked in a deep breath. Some other time, I wouldn’t still be around. If I went home, I would forget all about him.

“Maybe,” I said.

“How about I teach you how to make a toy?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Really? I’d love that.”

He led me to a workbench covered in wooden pieces of various sizes, beads, paint pots, and shiny lacquers. All around us was a symphony of colors and textures, inviting my hands to reach out and explore. A familiar warmth flooded me. His casual touch sent shivers down my spine, lighting up sparks of longing deep within me. But I pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand.

He picked up some wood pieces and attached them together, creating a small wooden train. His fingers were deft and sure, each movement an art. I watched him silently, entranced by the way his face lit up as he worked. There was something beautiful about watching someone do something they love.

After some time, he handed me a piece of sandpaper and instructed me on how to smooth out the edges of the wooden train. As I worked under his careful guidance, I fell into a rhythm with him, our movements becoming synchronized as we worked side by side.

“Think you can finish painting it on your own?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He returned to his workstation, where he picked up the piece he must have been working on the day before. With careful precision, I painted the small train, savoring each stroke of my brush as it brought the simple toy to life.

I carefully placed the last touch of paint on the wooden train, a stroke of glossy lacquer, to make it shine. It was a simple toy, but I had made it. My hands had brought something beautiful into existence under Nils’s guidance. Pride swelled within me, a warm, satisfying glow. I couldn’t wait to show him.

With the train in my hands, I walked over to where Nils was working, a little nervous but mostly excited. His back was to me, his focus entirely consumed by the toy he was crafting. I clearedmy throat slightly, and he turned, a look of gentle expectation on his face.

“Look, I finished it.” I held out the train for him.

He took it from me and examined my work. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, a genuine, proud smile. “You did an amazing job, Lan.” The warmth in his voice made the pride in my chest swell even more. I loved it when he called me that.

Nils pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me in a firm embrace. Our lips met in a kiss that was soft at first but grew deeper, filled with all the longing and frustration that had been building between us. I melted into him, my heart racing with excitement and nervous anticipation.

As we parted slightly, catching our breaths, my gaze fell on the doll he’d been working on. A gasp escaped my lips. It looked like me. The same pale blond hair, the same delicate features. It was me in doll form.

“This doll… It looks like me,” I said, my voice filled with wonder. “How long have you been working on this?”

“The day after you arrived.”

“Really? It’s so beautiful.”

Nils chuckled. “I had a beautiful inspiration, doll.”

A thrill shot through me, a thrill that was chased by another rush of longing.

“I think I’m jealous of this doll, Daddy,” I said, my breathing labored. Beneath my ass, the hard outline of Nils’s cock nudged me. I barely stopped myself from letting out a moan.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I think about all the times you must have touched it to make it this perfect.”

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