The sudden bang echoed through the silent house like a sack of gifts tumbling from the sleigh, yanking Emma from her restless Christmas Eve dreams. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding as moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver streaks across her bare skin. The air smelled of pine and cinnamon from the tree downstairs, but something else lingered—a faint musk of snow and woodsmoke that made her pulse quicken with curiosity. At eighteen, home alone while her family traveled, Emma had never felt more awake, her full, bouncy breasts heaving with each breath as she slipped on a thin robe and padded downstairs, the hardwood cool against her feet.

There, by the fireplace, stood Santa himself—his red suit dusted with frost, belly heaving from the night's labors, eyes twinkling with a weary yet commanding spark beneath his white beard. "Ho ho, little one," he rumbled, voice deep and jolly, "You've caught me at my most tired. But to stay on the good list this year, you'll need to show some real Christmas spirit." Emma's cheeks flushed, a mix of surprise and thrill sparking through her as he explained the intimate test, his gaze roaming her curves with appreciative hunger. The proposal hung in the air like magic, stirring a warm ache between her thighs.

Heart racing with playful openness, Emma let her robe slip from her shoulders, revealing her smooth, youthful body bathed in firelight. Her large breasts bounced free, nipples tightening in the cool air as she stepped closer, the weight of his ancient, vigorous presence drawing her in. "Like this?" she whispered, her voice husky with curiosity, already feeling the heat build as Santa's gloved hand reached out, promising mutual pleasure in the quiet hours before dawn.

With a hearty chuckle that rumbled through his broad chest, Santa eased Emma onto the soft rug before the crackling fireplace, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle as they parted her thighs. His white beard tickled the sensitive skin of her inner legs as he lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to trace the slick folds of her pussy with deliberate, teasing strokes. Emma gasped, her back arching as waves of pleasure radiated from where his warm, wet mouth met her most intimate place, his tongue delving deeper to circle her clit before plunging into her heat. The scent of pine and cinnamon mingled with her arousal in the air, and she tangled her fingers in his snowy hair, pulling him closer while her big bouncy breasts heaved with each ragged breath, nipples tightening in the firelight.

Her body trembled under his expert attention, juices coating his beard as he sucked and lapped with jolly enthusiasm, one thick finger sliding inside her to curl against that sweet spot that made her cry out. But soon, driven by her own playful curiosity and the spark of mutual desire, Emma guided him back, her hands roaming over his velvet-trimmed suit until she freed his thick, veined cock. It sprang forth, heavy and erect, the tip already glistening with precum, and she sank to her knees before him, her eyes meeting his twinkling ones with eager openness. Wrapping her soft fingers around the base, she leaned in, her tongue swirling over the swollen head before taking him into her mouth, lips stretching around his girth as she bobbed her head, cheeks hollowing with each suck.

The taste of him—salty and earthy—filled her senses, and she moaned around his length, the vibration drawing a low groan from Santa as his hips rocked forward gently. Her breasts swayed with the rhythm, brushing against his

Santa's Midnight Gift