Santa's Helpers: Snowflake
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cynthia Sax
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Merry sprawled on the wooden gift-wrapping table with her skirt hiked around her waist and her legs spread. Randall, the Pittsburgh division's employee of the week, a fat bakery elf, thrashed on top of her, jabbing his short fat cock in and out of her pussy, his big belly jiggling like a bowlful of jelly, his dimpled cheeks an alarming shade of red.
He'll be hours. She ignored his bungling and examined her pendant. The silver snowflake was left in her mailbox yesterday. The Christmas present had been sent from a mysterious admirer... if sluts had admirers. Merry frowned. "I suppose he'll want to fuck me. That's what everyone wants."
"Ohhh... Minnie," Randall moaned, mauling her silk-covered breasts with his flour-dusted hands, Merry deeming this encounter not worthy of undressing.
"My name's Merry," she corrected dryly. "Not that you care," she mumbled under her breath. She was simply the plant slut, her Santa's Helper duties performed on her back or knees. It was easy seasonal work, and it paid well.
"He'll want something special for this." Merry spun the pendant, the silver reflecting the light. There was only one thing she had to offer. "Probably anal." She tilted her head, rubbed her curls into the smooth wooden table. "Maybe a menage, girl-girl, of course." She grimaced, not a vagitarian, preferring cock.
"Talk to your jolly old elf, Fairy." The bells on Randall's elf hat played a festive tune, the baker's thrusts erratic, his rhythm unsteady. "Tell me how much you want my huge slab of gingerbread."
"Oh, baby, I want your huge slab of gingerbread," Merry dutifully repeated, her voice lilting with laughter. "Stuff me with your big biscuit." Her lips twitched. "Bang those cinnamon-chocolate butterballs against me." She turned her head away from him, unable to suppress her smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
"I'll fill you with my sweet cream filling." He grunted, sweat dripping down his full cheeks as he pumped into her.
Yeah, he'll be hours. Merry played with the pendant. "I'd do anal, maybe the menage," she mused, thinking of her mysterious admirer. "He earned points for originality. I --"
The door swung open and a big-breasted blonde elf hustled into the private workspace, her blue eyes shining with glee. "We have a pickup at logistics, Merry. Bog wants you specifically to handle it."
He would. Merry winced; her boss was a Fairy-hating asshole. "When we're done, I'll get right to it." Randall bounced on top of her, rutting into her with enthusiasm and no finesse.
"He wants it picked up right now." Pink shimmied out of her blue silk G-string. "And he wants to see you before you leave tonight."
For his nightly blowjob. Merry shoved Randall off of her.
"Hey!" the elf protested, his fat cock slick with her pussy juices. "I wasn't done."
"You can finish with me, hon." Pink reclined on the table beside them. "Don't worry about this, Merry." She spread her legs, her mons smooth, and her pink folds gleaming with moisture. "I've got it." Randall positioned himself between Pink's pale thighs, eased his cock into her and resumed his erratic pumping, unconcerned over the last-minute substitution, one slut's pussy as good as another.
And just like that, I'm replaced. Merry smoothed down her skirt and fluttered her wings, agitated and unsettled. I'm no special snowflake. She touched her pendant. I'm a slut; nothing more than that.
She hurried through the toy manufacturing plant, ignoring the disapproving glares of the pinched-faced female employees, their good opinions lost the first time she'd fucked their boss; the interviews for her position had been both oral and anal.
I want to be more. She blew through the door and stepped into the dark deserted alleyway, her stiletto heels clicking on the pavement. A gust of winter wind lifted the hem of her short skirt and skimmed over her bare skin, escalating, rather than cooling, her insatiable desires.
"I need to be more." Merry gazed up at the sky. Snowflakes danced in the air, illuminated by the streetlights. The notes of a Christmas carol hung on the night breeze. "I need --"
"Me." The word rumbled through her, a thunder preceding a passionate storm.