Ok, I will admit that my last post was possibly a bit of a downer, I thought it might be nice to end the year on a lighter, more fun note. So, with apologies to the author of the classic song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” here’s my deviant take on the subject matter. 

In the original, Santa could have been the kid’s father, but what if he wasn’t? What if the Mom was just really into Santa and it went way beyond just kissing? Does her husband know, and what would his reaction have been after he found out from their kid? So many questions! Oh btw, my version is not meant to be sung.

I saw my wife kissing Santa Claus
underneath the mistletoe last night.
She knew I was there,
watching silently from the top stair.
Though she thought it was a bit fucked up,
she kept going with deliberate care.

Then I saw my wife tickle Santa Claus,
her hands slipped beneath his shirt.
He laughed, his eyes full of desire and flirt,
while his hands crept underneath her skirt.

She locked eyes with me, bold and aware,
as his fingers teased the edge of her underwear.
Before long, she was getting fingered with care,
she was moaning softly, surrendering there,
by an old, white bearded, teddy bear.

I could see her passion, rising and true,
a shiver ran through me—I didn’t know what to do.
Her red lips parted, her breaths grew unsteady,
and with that, Santa proved she was more than ready.

While trembling, she dropped to her knees,
unzipping his pants with surprising ease.
Out came his “candy cane,” long, hard, and straight as a dart.
And she swallowed him up, igniting a large spark.
The slurping sounds were surreal and obscene,
her hunger for Santa was intense and keen.

Then she stood quickly, as if something was the matter,
and Santa, though startled, moved in with such swagger.
With a smile that was sly and devilish to bear,
he bent her over our living room reading chair.
Sliding her soaked panties down with a tease,
ol’ Saint Nick moved with a purpose, swift and at ease.

With divine rhythm, he answered her prayer,
he slid deep into her chimney as if he was light as the air.
Her eyes met mine, her body was overcome,
shaking, gasping, as her climax had finally come.

Santa’s pace quickened, his own time drawing near,
his face alight with sexy, holiday cheer.
With a final groan, he pulled away,
spraying his hot gift in a sticky display.

Then, as if by magic, his pants reappeared,
and he turned to me, his message was all too clear:
“Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll be back tomorrow,
to bring her more joy and banish all sorrow.
Maybe it’ll just be me, keeping it discreet,
or perhaps I will bring the elf crew by for a group treat.”

Stunned, I crept down the stairs, unsure where to look or what to say,
I was greeted with a hug that swept my doubts away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her smile so warm and pleasant,
“for arranging this unforgettable Christmas present.”

I didn’t reveal that this tryst was not planned by me,
but kept my lips locked and threw away the key.
Santa tipped his brightly colored furred hat, his task now done,
he knew that my wife was his, but it was time to run.
With a wink, and a flash, the room filled with ash,
and on the roof sounded like hooves thundering in a mad dash.
Then, with a voice booming as loud as a gun,
he called out, “Merry Christmas to everyone and the wife here is sexy and fun!”

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a wild New Year to everyone! I hope you get to enjoy the holidays with both Mary and Blythe—and maybe a Steve too. Who knows where the festivities might take you?