Santa & Mrs. Claus: Threeway at the North Pole:
In my story called "Santa Likes Femboys" I explained that I discovered that last Christmas when Santa Claus visited my house then made me suck on his **** before fucking my boypussy. He also gave me an actual present: a winning lottery ticket. Well, with that multi-million dollar winning ticket I was able to buy a private jet and travel the world. I was flying over the Arctic Circle when it happened: my jet's engine gave out and we crashed. I don't remember the details of the crash, so I can't describe it. But what happened next I will never forget.
I must have blacked out during the crash because next thing I remember I am opening my eyes in a very warm, comfortable bed in a cozy little room that looked like it was part of a mountain cabin or chalet. A fireplace was crackling nearby and the windows were covered by closed curtains. I was naked except for my black lace panties and I frantically looked about for my cell phone.
"Oh, you're awake," I heard a voice that sounded like a sweet, old lady say and just as I expected a sweet old lady entered the room. She was short, maybe 5 feet or so, a little plump, with snow-white hair that was short and curly, wrinkles, glasses, and a sunny disposition. She had on her head a festive red Santa hat and the red one-piece dress with white fur trimmings she was wearing barely contained her plump, perky breasts and big, bubbly butt. She had in her hands a cup of hot chocolate. "I was bringing you something to drink in case you woke up, so I'm glad you did."
She walked over and leaned down to place the hot chocolate on the end table next to my bed and I couldn't help but stare at her strangely hot ass. But I then covered myself best I could, being shy at first, that I was almost naked, and embarrassed that I was in female panties around this woman. Sure, I am a femboy tgirl, but I am still new to it and to discovering and admitting who I really am gender-wise and am not comfortable being seen that way in public yet, and besides, I am bisexual (or pansexual?) and like to **** women too so being seen in female panties may hurt my chances that way.
"Where's my phone?" I gave the quintessential 21st-century question. In any other era the first question would be, "Where am I?" or "Who are you?" But instead, for this generation, its "Where's my phone?" "It got broken in the crash," the old lady explained.
"Where are my clothes?" I asked.
"They were covered in snow and cold and frozen, so we are thawing them out and washing them." She answered. "You're lucky an elf was chasing an escaped reindeer and found you or you'd be dead by now, dear."
"Elf?" I asked dumbfounded. "Reindeer?"
"Why yes, dear, you're at Santa's village." And with that the old lady opened the curtains showing a small village of wooden cabins covered in snow, Christmas decorations and lights, and reindeer and what looked like every storybook version of elves running around. "I'm Mrs. Claus," she announced. "Santa is my husband."
Any other person would have been shocked by this revelation but since I already met Santa Claus and knew he is actually real, I wasn't that surprised.
"Is there a phone?"
"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Claus explained, "being at the North Pole we have no way to communicate with the outside world. Only Santa sees people and places outside the village when he works on Christmas Eve bringing kids their presents."
"How will I get home?"
"Santa will explain that." she was sitting sideways on the bed looking at me as she said this. I still had the covers lifted up over my chest to hide my shaved-smooth ladyboy body from her. "No need to be shy, dear," she told me, "after all I was the one who undressed you and put you into this bed." After hearing that, I reluctantly dropped the covers exposing my bare chest. "Santa explained all about you to me," she said, "I know you are a very effeminate boy." That was her very mild way of saying I was gay or bisexual, that I like being in women's clothing and be treated just like a girl. "I also know you like girls, too." I don't know why she would say that, but as she did her voice got softer and more sensual, and she leaned close to me. So close I could see down her blouse and at the crack between her big, round boobs.
"What does that mean?" I enquired, though already knowing the answer.
"I know my husband fucked you," explained Mrs. Claus, "now I want to know what sex is like with you. It's been so long since a man has touched me. Santa rather play with the elves or with guys like you when he works." "Guys like me" probably means Santa fucks other femboys and transgirls on Christmas Eve, not just me, which I always suspected. She took off her glasses...slowly...then unbuttoned the top of her blouse, her titts almost jumped out. "Touch them," she ordered, "Touch my breasts, Chrissy. I know you want to."
The story continues in the comments and next post....
In my story called "Santa Likes Femboys" I explained that I discovered that last Christmas when Santa Claus visited my house then made me suck on his **** before fucking my boypussy. He also gave me an actual present: a winning lottery ticket. Well, with that multi-million dollar winning ticket I was able to buy a private jet and travel the world. I was flying over the Arctic Circle when it happened: my jet's engine gave out and we crashed. I don't remember the details of the crash, so I can't describe it. But what happened next I will never forget.
I must have blacked out during the crash because next thing I remember I am opening my eyes in a very warm, comfortable bed in a cozy little room that looked like it was part of a mountain cabin or chalet. A fireplace was crackling nearby and the windows were covered by closed curtains. I was naked except for my black lace panties and I frantically looked about for my cell phone.
"Oh, you're awake," I heard a voice that sounded like a sweet, old lady say and just as I expected a sweet old lady entered the room. She was short, maybe 5 feet or so, a little plump, with snow-white hair that was short and curly, wrinkles, glasses, and a sunny disposition. She had on her head a festive red Santa hat and the red one-piece dress with white fur trimmings she was wearing barely contained her plump, perky breasts and big, bubbly butt. She had in her hands a cup of hot chocolate. "I was bringing you something to drink in case you woke up, so I'm glad you did."
She walked over and leaned down to place the hot chocolate on the end table next to my bed and I couldn't help but stare at her strangely hot ass. But I then covered myself best I could, being shy at first, that I was almost naked, and embarrassed that I was in female panties around this woman. Sure, I am a femboy tgirl, but I am still new to it and to discovering and admitting who I really am gender-wise and am not comfortable being seen that way in public yet, and besides, I am bisexual (or pansexual?) and like to **** women too so being seen in female panties may hurt my chances that way.
"Where's my phone?" I gave the quintessential 21st-century question. In any other era the first question would be, "Where am I?" or "Who are you?" But instead, for this generation, its "Where's my phone?" "It got broken in the crash," the old lady explained.
"Where are my clothes?" I asked.
"They were covered in snow and cold and frozen, so we are thawing them out and washing them." She answered. "You're lucky an elf was chasing an escaped reindeer and found you or you'd be dead by now, dear."
"Elf?" I asked dumbfounded. "Reindeer?"
"Why yes, dear, you're at Santa's village." And with that the old lady opened the curtains showing a small village of wooden cabins covered in snow, Christmas decorations and lights, and reindeer and what looked like every storybook version of elves running around. "I'm Mrs. Claus," she announced. "Santa is my husband."
Any other person would have been shocked by this revelation but since I already met Santa Claus and knew he is actually real, I wasn't that surprised.
"Is there a phone?"
"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Claus explained, "being at the North Pole we have no way to communicate with the outside world. Only Santa sees people and places outside the village when he works on Christmas Eve bringing kids their presents."
"How will I get home?"
"Santa will explain that." she was sitting sideways on the bed looking at me as she said this. I still had the covers lifted up over my chest to hide my shaved-smooth ladyboy body from her. "No need to be shy, dear," she told me, "after all I was the one who undressed you and put you into this bed." After hearing that, I reluctantly dropped the covers exposing my bare chest. "Santa explained all about you to me," she said, "I know you are a very effeminate boy." That was her very mild way of saying I was gay or bisexual, that I like being in women's clothing and be treated just like a girl. "I also know you like girls, too." I don't know why she would say that, but as she did her voice got softer and more sensual, and she leaned close to me. So close I could see down her blouse and at the crack between her big, round boobs.
"What does that mean?" I enquired, though already knowing the answer.
"I know my husband fucked you," explained Mrs. Claus, "now I want to know what sex is like with you. It's been so long since a man has touched me. Santa rather play with the elves or with guys like you when he works." "Guys like me" probably means Santa fucks other femboys and transgirls on Christmas Eve, not just me, which I always suspected. She took off her glasses...slowly...then unbuttoned the top of her blouse, her titts almost jumped out. "Touch them," she ordered, "Touch my breasts, Chrissy. I know you want to."
The story continues in the comments and next post....
Santa & Mrs. Claus: Threeway at the North Pole:
In my story called "Santa Likes Femboys" I explained that I discovered that last Christmas when Santa Claus visited my house then made me suck on his cock before fucking my boypussy. He also gave me an actual present: a winning lottery ticket. Well, with that multi-million dollar winning ticket I was able to buy a private jet and travel the world. I was flying over the Arctic Circle when it happened: my jet's engine gave out and we crashed. I don't remember the details of the crash, so I can't describe it. But what happened next I will never forget.
I must have blacked out during the crash because next thing I remember I am opening my eyes in a very warm, comfortable bed in a cozy little room that looked like it was part of a mountain cabin or chalet. A fireplace was crackling nearby and the windows were covered by closed curtains. I was naked except for my black lace panties and I frantically looked about for my cell phone.
"Oh, you're awake," I heard a voice that sounded like a sweet, old lady say and just as I expected a sweet old lady entered the room. She was short, maybe 5 feet or so, a little plump, with snow-white hair that was short and curly, wrinkles, glasses, and a sunny disposition. She had on her head a festive red Santa hat and the red one-piece dress with white fur trimmings she was wearing barely contained her plump, perky breasts and big, bubbly butt. She had in her hands a cup of hot chocolate. "I was bringing you something to drink in case you woke up, so I'm glad you did."
She walked over and leaned down to place the hot chocolate on the end table next to my bed and I couldn't help but stare at her strangely hot ass. But I then covered myself best I could, being shy at first, that I was almost naked, and embarrassed that I was in female panties around this woman. Sure, I am a femboy tgirl, but I am still new to it and to discovering and admitting who I really am gender-wise and am not comfortable being seen that way in public yet, and besides, I am bisexual (or pansexual?) and like to fuck women too so being seen in female panties may hurt my chances that way.
"Where's my phone?" I gave the quintessential 21st-century question. In any other era the first question would be, "Where am I?" or "Who are you?" But instead, for this generation, its "Where's my phone?" "It got broken in the crash," the old lady explained.
"Where are my clothes?" I asked.
"They were covered in snow and cold and frozen, so we are thawing them out and washing them." She answered. "You're lucky an elf was chasing an escaped reindeer and found you or you'd be dead by now, dear."
"Elf?" I asked dumbfounded. "Reindeer?"
"Why yes, dear, you're at Santa's village." And with that the old lady opened the curtains showing a small village of wooden cabins covered in snow, Christmas decorations and lights, and reindeer and what looked like every storybook version of elves running around. "I'm Mrs. Claus," she announced. "Santa is my husband."
Any other person would have been shocked by this revelation but since I already met Santa Claus and knew he is actually real, I wasn't that surprised.
"Is there a phone?"
"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Claus explained, "being at the North Pole we have no way to communicate with the outside world. Only Santa sees people and places outside the village when he works on Christmas Eve bringing kids their presents."
"How will I get home?"
"Santa will explain that." she was sitting sideways on the bed looking at me as she said this. I still had the covers lifted up over my chest to hide my shaved-smooth ladyboy body from her. "No need to be shy, dear," she told me, "after all I was the one who undressed you and put you into this bed." After hearing that, I reluctantly dropped the covers exposing my bare chest. "Santa explained all about you to me," she said, "I know you are a very effeminate boy." That was her very mild way of saying I was gay or bisexual, that I like being in women's clothing and be treated just like a girl. "I also know you like girls, too." I don't know why she would say that, but as she did her voice got softer and more sensual, and she leaned close to me. So close I could see down her blouse and at the crack between her big, round boobs.
"What does that mean?" I enquired, though already knowing the answer.
"I know my husband fucked you," explained Mrs. Claus, "now I want to know what sex is like with you. It's been so long since a man has touched me. Santa rather play with the elves or with guys like you when he works." "Guys like me" probably means Santa fucks other femboys and transgirls on Christmas Eve, not just me, which I always suspected. She took off her glasses...slowly...then unbuttoned the top of her blouse, her titts almost jumped out. "Touch them," she ordered, "Touch my breasts, Chrissy. I know you want to."
The story continues in the comments and next post....
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