Page 17 of Subbing For Santa

I slide my hands to my breasts first, rolling both nipples at the same time, letting the stimulation grow and shoot straight to my core.

“Santa?” I ask, adding some extra sweetness to my tone.

“Yes, little elf?”

“Can I see you on camera, too?”

“What have I told you about trying to find out my identity?” He growls, but I don’t let it bother me as I run my hand down my front to start circling my nub.

“I don’t want to see your face.” I pant. “I want to see your cock. Will you show me?”

“Hmmm. I do like the way you say ‘cock’.”

I grin, liking how he likes the way I say it.

“Please show me your cock, Santa,” I say sweetly, and a low groan comes through the speaker.

“How can I refuse that? Give me a minute, little elf.”

Holy shit! Really?

I have to school my features not to look overly excited about him agreeing to this. It may not be his face, but it’s a start.

I hear some shuffling, the sound of a door closing, some more shuffling, and then the screen flickers as his camera switches on.

The cam is positioned low so I can only see his bare chest and abs, and thank you baby Jesus, what a beautiful work of art it is. Sculpted to perfection, his pecs look strong and defined, his nipples totally biteable, and his six-pack is taut and teasing, leading to the top of a V that disappears below the screen.

“Shit, Santa. You’re mouth-watering.”

He chuckles. “I’d prefer to be pussy-watering.”

I giggle in response. “Oh, don’t worry. You are.”

It’s no lie. I’m ridiculously wet. I hadn’t expected him to be in such good shape. From what I can see, he is totally lickable, and I wasn’t lying about my mouth watering. Or my pussy.

“I can’t see your cock, Santa.” I whine and he chuckles, stepping back until the V appears and then vanishes from my sight because I now have tunnel vision for his long, hard, thick straining cock.

“Oh wow. You have a nice cock, Santa.”

He growls low in response as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the object of my desire. There’s a tattoo on his hand, but I can’t make it out, so I focus on my building pleasure as I watch him squeeze and pump his dick, bringing it closer to the screen.

“Fuck, Aggie. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Excitement rushes through me at his words. Part of me was wondering if I’d ever get to see him, but there is hope yet. Hope that one day soon his head will be buried between my legs.

The thought sends a rush of pleasure to my core, and I cry out as my fingers speed up their assault on my needy clit. I know I’m not far, and I want to see him cum, so I use his words as his dick pistons in his tight grip.

“I can’t wait to taste you, too.”

“Fuck.” He hisses, and it does the trick.

As the first stream of white jiz shoots from his dick, I soar high in a clenching orgasm that, as usual, jets my own stream from my pulsing pussy.

Both of our panting breaths fill the room, and while I like that I can hear him, and see part of him, I still yearn to touch him.

I feel so touch starved. And not in the sex touch way. I mean in the caring caress of a lover as they worship every inch of my body. The feel of their arms as they hold me close, not wanting to have any space between us. The press of their warm lips against my temple as they cherish me.

I’ve only had that once, more than five years ago. All my other encounters are purely sex based. But shit, I’ve been kidding myself, thinking I don’t need anyone in my life. Thinking sex is enough.

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