Page 123 of Santa Daddies
“See, it’s a snuggie blankie for Dicky!”
It wasn’t often I rendered my Daddy speechless, but that was exactly what he was as he stared at his cock which was now encased in the “cock sock” I’d crocheted and slid over his shaft. Only the crown remained outside the brightly colored yarn.When his gaze lifted to look at me, I said, “Wow, Mrs. Claus must really love Dicky, his snuggie has a hood!” Reaching down, I flipped the attached hood over the crown so that now every inch of Dicky was nice and snug.
“I-I have no words,” he muttered, seeming unable to stop swiveling his gaze from his cock to me and back again.
I had none either, but even if I had they’d be incoherent as I was laughing way too hard to speak. Flopping backward, I wrapped my arms around my belly, my stocking’s contents rolling all around to drop between the couch cushions or to the floor as I just lost it. By the time I was starting to manage to catch bits of a breath, I had no clue how long I’d been wallowing. All I knew was that I was either going to see a smile on my Daddy’s face or a look that made the skin of my bottom crawl. Deciding I was good with either, I chanced pushing up a bit to look across to the other end of the couch.
He wasn’t exactly smiling but he wasn’t frowning either. Instead, he simply quirked his brow and offered a hand to help pull me up.
“You’re not upset?”
“Upset? Why would I be upset? It wasn’t my gift. It was Dicky’s.”
Well, darn, I hadn’t even considered that. I dropped my gaze to discover that during my fit, Dicky had ducked back behind Daddy’s zipper.
“Umm, do you… um, do you think Dicky’s upset?” I leaned forward to whisper as if afraid Dicky would hear me.
“What would make you think that? I’m sure he’s as snug as a bug in a rug. In fact, I’m sure he would have thanked you himself in person but seeing as you were a bit too energetic for him, I believe he must have left you a thank you note instead.”
Remember all that gobbledygook about concern and suspicion? Well, forget it. There was no real answer written instone. And that swiveling look between lap and eyes? Yep, I was experiencing that as well. Finally, I just sat back and declared that no matter how much I’d thought I’d get him, he’d gotten me yet again.
“Where?”
“Where what?” he asked as he lifted a Santa-face mug that I suddenly realized smelled like cocoa to his lips.
“Where did you get that cocoa and where do you think Dicky might have left his note?”
Daddy smiled and glanced toward the coffee table where a Mrs. Claus mug sat on a tray, marshmallows sprinkled with peppermint shavings covering what I knew would be pretty close to heaven on earth. “Thanks, Daddy,” I said, reaching for it and taking a long inhalation before taking a cautious sip, but it wasn’t too hot.
“It would have been hotter, but some Little girl spent a fair amount of time attending her own little laugh fest.”
I thought about apologizing, but I wasn’t really sorry, and I didn’t think Daddy was the least bit upset. Instead, I played it cool. “This is just the way I like it.” I took another sip. “You make the best hot chocolate ever to be drunken, Daddy.”
“Drunken? Babygirl, I’d worry there was bourbon in your cocoa but since I poured it, I know there isn’t.”
I waved my hand as if semantics had no purpose in my life. “So, where is the note?”
Daddy glanced around the room, going as far as to lift the saucer holding a few sugar cookies to look beneath it before he looked at me again. “I don’t see it. Did you check your stocking?”
Since said stocking was currently laying abandoned beneath the table, the thought had never occurred to me.
“Whoa, careful there,” Daddy said, no longer lounging but leaning forward to snag my mug before I spilled it all over myself as I attempted to grab the stocking without bothering to get up.
“Thanks,” I said, and now, free of the mug, I bent and grabbed the loop used to hang the stocking from its hook on the mantle. “I don’t think he left it here, it looks pretty limp to me.”
“Dig deep,” Daddy suggested, causing me to smile.
“You’re silly.” I shook my head and straightened to pull the stocking onto my lap. To appease him, I stuck my arm into the stocking and even pressed my fingers against the yarn and wiggled them as he had earlier in his own stocking. I pulled my arm free and opened my fist. “Sorry, but nope. Guess Dicky left it somewhere else.”
“Are you sure? Did you dig really deep down?”
“Yes, of course–” His arched brow cut me off as easily as any word would have. “Okay, okay,” I said and stuck my arm into the sock again and shoved it all the way to the very toe. “See, there’s… oh, wait. I think there is something here, but it doesn’t feel like a note.”
“One way to find out,” he said, calmly sipping his cocoa.
I pulled my arm out again and my eyes went wide at the sight of a wrapped box that I would have sworn hadn’t been inside my stocking before. “It’s a present.”
“Sure looks like one to me,” he agreed.
