Christmas Special

of family Christmas tree after midnight Mass. And a teacher's role plays santas Elf with her adult former student at a reunion party, gets her bells jingled in a semi public coke closet. That and so so much more. Are you ready to spice things up? Here's a sneak pink of the steamy Audi content a waiting for you on Patreon. The one in my ass came first, hip snapping, flooding me with the heat that leaked out around him in thick pulses. The second followed, grinding deep and spilling so

hard I felt every jet against my servix. The man in my mouth pulled out just to come across my face in long, hot stripes that mixed with tears and spit and honey. Join now for ad free access to the Wednesday Show, an exclusive Friday episode packed with erotic roll play and pleasurable audio experience. Treat yourself to something naughty. You deserve it. Join Patreon today and indulge in your fantasies. If you're new here, Welcome to my show, where people

can share their deepest sexual secrets in fantasies anonymously. Each week, I read out letters and emails from listeners who have bravely shared their intimate experiences with me. The show is a safe space for people to confess their hidden desires and encounters, free from judgment or repercussions. By sharing these stories, we're creating a community that acknowledges and accepts the diversity

of human experience. If you're looking for a place to explore your own desires or simply listen to other experiences, you're in the right place. Tune in for some raw, honest, unapologetic accounts of the human intimacy and connections. If you have a secret story or experience you've been dying to share, now's your chance. You can write to me directly at Nikki and Ikky at dear niki dot com, or submit your confession anonymously at dear niki dot com under the

confession stab. Perhaps you have an erotic fantasy that's been burning inside you, or maybe you just want to say hello, whatever it is, I really want to hear from you. And just remember, if you decide to write in for confessions, questions, or anything else, you certify the following are true. You are the sole creator of the submission. You're eighteen years of age or older legally able to write smiterotic or

pornographic material. Stories including bestiality, incest, incest fantasies, underage role play, rape, sex, rape fantasies, or other non consensual content or racial slurs will not be aired. We reserve the right to change names or other identifiable information, and you're releasing all rights to your creation. If you enjoyed the show, please leave a review on your favorite podcast platform. It helps us grow and reach much sex Bloord of minds like yourself.

Connect with us on social media Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook and stay up to date and be part of our vibrant community. Also check out our partnership pages for exclusive discounts and learn about the amazing businesses I work with. I want to take a moment from Darcy the Brett and I wish you a very, very merry Christmas, happy holidays, and whatever else we're celebrating, and hopefully with something sexy

a question. I've was enjoying these that come in actually so even if it comes with a little, short, little quip of what's happened to them? Were question or something that's very similar to what we've been talking about in previous episodes. Dear Nikin, I've been a huge fan of your podcast for years. Your voice reading these confessions always gets me hot and bothered. With Christmas just around the corner, I wanted to share my favorite holiday memory from last year.

It's a bit of a question too, Is it normal to get this turned on by role playing holiday characters? My husband and I have always loved keeping things spicy, especially during the holidays when we're both off work and the kids are at the grandparents. Last Christmas Eve, he told me he had a special gift for me under the tree, but I had to wait until midnight to open it. I was lounging by the fireplace in my

cozy robe. When the clock struck twelve, he came downstairs dressed as Santa, full red suit, beard the works, carrying a big sack. Ho ho hoed his way over, sat me on his lap, asked me if I'd been naughty or nice. I played along, whispering that I've been very naughty all year. He pulled out some presents from his sack, red silky lingerie, a candy cane, vibrator, and some mistletoe cuffs. Before I knew it, he had me stripped down and dressed in red lingerie, tied loosely to the arm chair

with cuffs for being on the naughty list. What followed was the hottest night we've ever had. He ate me out under the twinkling lights, using that candy cane toy to tease me until I was begging. Then he bent me over by the tree, fucking me slow and eat while the fire crackled, telling me Santa was feeling my stocking extra fool this year. I came so hard I saw stars, or maybe that was the tree lights. We finished with me riding him on the rug, his Santa

hats still on until he exploded inside me. Best gift ever. So, Nikki, do you think colin a role play like this is common as it feels in our house? Or are we extra naughty? Either way, it makes me excited for this Christmas already. Keep doing what you do. You make us all feel less alone in our desires. Kisses a very

satisfied missus claws. Well, hello, very satisfied missus claws. Right, I mean we kissed him under you know, in this And since I commented on a comment like this too, because we all know well hopefully you know Amanda and Cole from Full Swap Radio, I'm very good friends with them. She posted a picture of you know her naked him well you could tell it was him, so I commented UNDERR and I'm commenting this to you as well. I saw, mommy fucking Santa Claus. No, there's nothing wrong with this.

I love this. I don't know if it's common, just because of the whole you know, Sanda comes from a spirit that is very magical and innocent. But you know why not right? I was? I actually was watching Frosty the Snowman And if you have not heard, you know the cartoon, not the guy that tells the story inclination about Rudolph. So the cartoon of Frosty the Snowman, the gentleman playing or doing the voiceover for Frosty. Apparently he had multiple families. I guess his son or one of

them has written a book about it. So there's your little naughty twist on you know, you know, maybe your childhood cartoon that you grew up with. It was one of the things that we always did in our house is we watched all the the claymations and to me, there's nothing like the older stuff. Hence the still the Sia Fox thing going in my life right. So now I say go for it. If you want to dress up as the sexy elf, that's always good too, you know.

Or you know, you can even go a little further and be, you know, just a girl coming to sit on Santa's lap, or a little boy sitting on Santa's lap, or you know, who knows what are we doing from here? But no, I embrace anything that brings positively sexy delights. It's within your sex, you know, relationship. May it be, however, it is as long as it's safe and consensual, you know me, okay, Because I love making your thighs clinch. Here's tonight's naughty riddle to tingle you under your tree

while we deck the halls. I'm hung with care in a prominent place, long and firm, with a tip that's red faced. You stroke me gently to make me glow bright, then suck on my ind for a treat for the night. I'm sweet and sticky when you lick me clean. But handle me wrong, and I'll make a scene. By morning, I'm spent, melted down to the nub. Now tell me, darling, what am I that you rub well? You try to keep that filthy image out of your head. We'll unwrap

that answer when you're on your knees and dugging. The stockings are stuff, the lights are a glow, and these stories are all wrapped in Christmas cheer. We'll leave you aching for a silent night of your own. So spike your eggnog, curl up by the fire, and let's unwrap every sinful secret of these Yule Tide tales. Dear Nikki, Christmas parties at work are supposed to be about awkward small talk and cheap secret Santa Giff's right, not for me. Last year, I'm twenty eight, a market of Exact and

a mid sized tech firm in Chicago. Our annual holiday bash is legendary, open bar, ugly sweaters, and enough mistletoe to turn the conference room into a hook up hazard zone. I showed up my slinky red dress that hugged my curves, hoping to catch the eye of my boss, Alex, who's thirty five, divorced and built like he spins his weekends chopping down Christmas trees. Little did I know he'd be

the one pinning me down against the copier. Later, the party was in full swing, Carol's blasting and colleagues dancing like no one was watching their HR file. Alex was mingling his tailored suit, making him look like a gift I wanted to unwrap. We'd flirted at meetings, lingering glances, accidental touches, but nothing more until the eggnog flowed. He cordered me by the punch bowl, his green eyes sparkling

under the fairy lights. You look incredible, he said, his voice low, handing me a drink laced with something stronger. Our fingers brushed and the spark was electric. Before I knew it, we were laughing about bad client pitches his hands on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd. As the night wore on, the party thinned out, but the energy between us thickened. He suggested we check on the supplies in the back office, a lame excuse, but

I followed, my heart pounding like reindeer hoofs. The door clicked shut, and suddenly we are alone amid stacks of files and twinkling dust decorations. Mistletoe, he murmured, pointing to a sprig some one had taped above the door. Then pulled me in close. His kiss was hungry, peppermint from candy cane, breath mingling with mine. As his hands runed my by squeezing my ass through the thin fabric. I melted against him, my fingers and doing his tie as

he backed me towards the desk. The risk was insane. Voices echoed from the hall, laughter spiking every few seconds, but the only made it hotter. He hiked up my dress, his fingers tracing the lace of my thigh I stockings. Then higher, find me already soaked. You've been teasing me all here, growled, slipping two fingers inside me, curling them just right while his thumb circled my clip. I gasped, gripping his shoulders, my nails digging in pleasure built fast outside.

Someone yelled last call, but were not lost. He spun me around, bend me over the desk, paper scattering like snow flakes. I heard a sipper, then felt the thick head of his cock pressing against me. Tell me you want this, he demanded, and I whispered yes, plus, playing the fantasy we'd never voiced. He thrust deep, feeling me completely. His hands up my hips. He pounded me and deliberate strokes. The desk creaked ornaments jingled with each slam. I bit

my lip to muffle my moans. His fingers found my clit again, rubbing in time with his thrust, and I came hard, clinging around him as waves crashed through me. I followed seconds later, groaning low as he pulsed inside, hot and deep. We caught our breath, fixed our clothes, and slipped back to the party like nothing happened. He left with a wink, and we've kept it professional since mostly, But every time I see the mistletoe, I feel that agche again. Yours Mia, Hello Mia, how are you when

anybody mentioned eggnog. I think back, so when I was at home visiting when my dad was still alive, years and years ago, Martha Steart when she was had a cooking show on TV and she was making eggnog. So you know, I didn't know how to make egg doog. Dad didn't know how to make egg dog. So we started watching. Okay, and you're gonna understand why if you have not seen the video, it is out there, and you have to put in the original eggnog and her

hair short in this one. She looks like a lot younger, not eighty, right, So when I tell you, we said, what the fuck? Oh shit, you'll get it. So it starts with twelve large eggs separated, then super fine sugar, and you beat all that together, and into that you add one and a half quarts of heavy cream, a quart of whole milk, and this is where it gets fun.

Three cups of good bourbon, a half a cup of dark rum mount gay I agree with her hair, and two cups of good cognac, and then you put with cream on top of that, and then you serve it. You chill it, of course, and then you serve it. Three cups I mean that's like five and a half cups of alcohol if I'm just gonna lead. That's what I think when you go you need to go watch the video because you're just calmly, just it's all together and like it's just like this and like it's nothing,

and I'm thinking, Wow, Martha likes to drink. Okay, back to this though, Yeah, I have never the closest supervisor. It wasn't my direct supervisor at this place, and yeah I don't I don't remember much about it, and yeah kind of thing, but it was a supervisor, but not mine. Not this sexy though. Have we ever hooked up at a Christmas car I have never hooked up at a Christmas car at party ever. I might need to go to one and hook up at one and anybody got him?

Like Christmas party I can come to and hook up with someone you can pretend to be my boss. How about that? I don't know if I got to give it to you though, Mia teasing your boss for so long? I mean a year or was it just a long to year, like maybe you started like in June, you know, a couple months. But then kudos to him for having the strength and will power. It must be the eggnog at the party that gave him the courage. That's where

I'm gonna leave this. So guys, ladies, gentlemen, would you, I think you would, especially if Martha's eggnog was being served Teernikki. My husband and I have been swinging for two years discreetly the trusted couples, but last Christmas we hosted our first full on holiday swap at our suburban Atlanta home. I'm thirty two and he's thirty four, and we turned our living room into a winder wonderland garland,

massive trees, a mood lighting that scream festive fun. We invited our three couples we played before, all in their thirties, promising a night of ignog games and whatever unwrapping felt right. What started as innocent charades ended with me on all fours getting railed by a stranger while my husband watched from across the room. The party kicked off tame, everyone in sexy holiday outfits, me in a green velvet mini dress, no braw Feeling naughty. We played Naughty or Nice trivia,

sipping spiked cocoa, the air buzzing with flirtation. My husband Jake kept eyeing Sarah, I, bubbly thirty one year old brunette whose husband Tom had been stealing glances at me all night. Tom was thirty three, athletic, with a jawline that could cut glass and a sanahat perched jauntly. As the games heated up, kisses under the mistletoe turned into full out makeouts, hands wandering freely. By midnight, the clothes

were shedding like pine needles. Jake pulled Sarah on to the couch, her moans filling the room as he went down on her. That was my cue. Tom grabbed my hand, leading me to the rug by the fireplace, the flames casting shadows on our skin. Your turn to be unwrapped, he said, peeling off my dress to reveal my red lace. Long his mouth was everywhere, kissing my neck, sucking my nipples until they inched, his fingers dipping between my legs

to find me dripping. The other couples were entangled near by, a room of a symphony of gasps and slaps, but the semi public thrill of it all made my pulse race. Tom lut me back on the soft rug, spreading my legs wide as he licked me, slow and deep, his tongue flicking my clip like it was savoring a candy cane. I arched, grabbing his hair, glancing over to see Jake buried inside Sarah. His eyes locked on mine with that hungry approval. Tom flipp me onto my hands and knees,

his clock thick and vein, pressing against my entrance. Ready for your gift, he teased, and then thrust in, stretching me perfectly. He fucked me hard, one hand in my hair and the other spanking my ass. Read As Garland swayed above us, the risk of neighbors peeking through windows only amplified it. I came twice screaming into a pillow before he pulled out and finished on my back. Hot spurts like fresh snow. We collapsed in a heap, laughing

and toasting. Jake and I reclaimed each other later, but that party set the bar for the holidays. Swinging under the tree best tradition ever, yours, Lena, Hello, Lina, how are you? I've never done the whole house party? Kiswah powever we swap swap and definitely never added mistletoes. Have you ever? Those are those are you that are in the scene. Have you ever you know, been to a party,

even know a Christmas party like this? And how do you do you just invite any swinger or do you keep it like Lena and her husband, a very small intimate gathering and keep the blinds open for the other neighbors. That's I kind of hot, is you know? You could have some speakers, you know, curl plutchers. God, you know, I mean, give the next door neighbor that you know he's not getting any because his wife's such a bitch a good view, at least a five second good time

before it gets caught. Make the bitch out worth it just second. I would do something like this if having the people that I have in mind in my head, the couples that I have in mind in my head, I absolutely would be down for this. It just it's I mean, it's not a on my bingo card or you know, a to do list. But if the timing was right, absolutely I would be into this. Just saying, but the stars have to align, and right now they're

not aligning. Dear Nikki, family Christmases are chaotic. In my blended household, parents remarried when I was eighteen, making my stepbrother Ryan a constant temptation. I'm twenty four, now home from grad school in Boston, and last year's holiday visited turned into my forbidden crush into a midnight miracle. Ryan's twenty six, a software engineer with a nerdy hot vibe, glasses tasseled hair, and a body honed from gin sessions. We'd always flirted subtly, but with family around, it's date

PG until everyone crushed after eggnog and carols. The house is quiet, Stucking's home, by the chimney, the tree glowing softly. I couldn't sleep, so I snug downstairs for coco, binding Ryan there in sweats, unwrapping a midnight stack. Couldn't resist the cookies. I teazed, my silk robe, slipping open just enough. His eyes darkened, lingered on my curves. Not the cookies, he muttered. Stepping closer, the air crackled like popping chestnuts.

He backed me against the counter, his hand brushing my thigh. We shouldn't, I whispered, but my body betrayed me, Pressing into him. His kiss was fire, deep, urgent, tasting of peppermint. Hands roamed mine under his shirt feeling his abs, his sliding up my robe, discovering and wore nothing underneath. Fuck, he moaned, fingers teasing my folds, finding me wet for him. The rest was huge parts upstairs, sibling as in the

guest room, but that made me irresistible. He lifted me on to the counter, into his knees, his tongued again, lapping me up like a forbidden fruitcake. I gripped the edge, stifling moans as he sucked my clip, two fingers, pumping inside until I shattered, legs shaking, He stood, dropping his sweats to reveal his hard cock. Thick and ready. While you're present, he asked, and I nodded, guiding him in. He thrusts slow at first, and faster, the counter, creaking

softly as ornaments tinkled on the tree nearby. We moved to the floor by the gifts, me riding him, reverse, grinding deep while he squeezed my breast. Footsteps upstairs made his freeze. Hearts pounding, but no one came down. He flipped me over, pounding me missionary, his hands over my mouth as I came again, clitching around him. He pulled out, stroking until he spilled on my stomach hot and sticky. We cleaned up, shared a final kiss, and vowed it was a one time thing. But this year the tree's

waiting yours, Hailey. Hello, Haley, you're being a bit naughty. I'm thinking naughty, naughty? Is there a forbidden treat we have waiting? Gorzer? Have had be a Christmas past? No for me? I guess when I'd say forbidden, I mean anything that fits under your forbidden umbrella. Because where this story wouldn't fit my narrative or my life, I can think of something different that is very forbidden for me

right now, and how I really wish it was. You know, I could find a way to make it happen this Christmas. Let's put it that way. So my question is to you, if you've done something naughty, very forbidden, what was it and was it a one time thing? Or did you or will you hopefully do it again this Christmas? Hum? I think there's a few ab out there that have a few stories, you know, the drill of you if

you've listened by now. Dear Nikki, I'm forty two, a high school English teacher in Seattle, and last Christmas, our reunion party turned into my naughtiest lesson yet. It was at a local bar, decked out in lights. In the wreaths, former students all adults, now mingling with old faculty, entered Jake, my star pupil from years ago, now graphic designer, tall ink and exuding confidence. He'd always had a crush. I noticed, but I kept it professional until the party were missletoles

and mulled wine blurred lines. We chatted about books, life, His gaze intents. You are my favorite teacher, he said, leaning in fantasized about anstra credit. I laughed, but the heat pulled low as the crowd thinned. He suggested role play as the strict teacher and him the naughty student, all consensual adult fun. The bar's coat CAUs it called Seemi public risky, with voices buzzing outside detention mister Hayes, I heard, pulling him inside and in fur coats and scarves.

He played along, dropping to his knees like a good elf. What's my punishment? Miss? His hands slid up my skirt, yanking down my tights and panties. His tongue was magic, flicking my clip while fingers plunged deep, making me grip hangers to stay quiet. Laughter echoed from the bar. Someone rattled the door, but it held. I came hard, whispering A plus my turn. I pushed him against the wall,

freeing his cock, long vein and throbbing. Time for your oral exam, I teased, sucking him slow with and deep, his hands in my hair. He groaned, thrusting gently. We switched. He bit me over the bench, entering me from behind, thrusting hard. His coat's muffled slaps. Fuck teacher, he growled, spanking lightly. The door shook again. Adrenaline spiked my orgasm, milking him until he exploded inside. We emerged, flushed, no one suspecting. He texted lighter, best reunion. I agreed Santa's list.

We damned yours, Evelyn, I love Evelyn. I don't well, we have. We've had a coat closet story. So I was gonna say, no, we haven't, but we have. I can remember it, and I remember I it was they shut the door completely and there were like six people in there, and they didn't know who they were fucking or sucking. That's the one that came to my mind. This however, there is a teacher too, actually, and they were brother in laws that I that were very attractive.

I today, I can't tell you what they looked like, but I remember thinking they were attractive. I do remember remember that. But I was never like Gaga googo over them like other girls were. I don't know, and I have not. I've been back home, not often, but I've been back home and I've never ran into them. I know how to run into them if I'm there, but I just the timing of being home and it's never gave me an opportunity to run into them, you know

what I mean. And I think one of them moved I now, So no, it's not a masturbation fantasy for me. But anytime a teacher fantasy comes up, I always do think, yeah, there was one. It's interesting because sometimes you hear men say, you know, the teachers didn't look like that back by day, And I can honestly say I can think of one female teacher and she was I mean, I could see where she'd be attractive, and I've heard she was extremely

naughty outside the class. And I'm not going to drop names or subjects just in case I have someone from my hometown listeners my luck, right, Have you ever had the hots for a teacher. I mean as an adult you ran into them, and did it ever happen? And if you were happened to bump into a teacher and they came on to you, would you fuck them in the coat closet on the Christmas Eve in a bar? Or would you take them home and fuck them there? Or would you just save it in your spank bank?

As a kuldah should have? What a I hope it's one of the other. But if it has to be the kodahoa should have, I hope it's kinky as fuck. Dear Nikki, I never thought i'd cross the line. The last Christmas Eve turned me into a taboo gift receiver. I'm twenty seven, married two years, but still living part time in my mom's house. Always stay for our own place. My stepdad, Grant, came into my life when I was nineteen.

He's forty five now, a rugged contractor with salt and pepper hair, broad shoulders, and that quiet authority that always made my stomach flip in ways I tried to ignore. Mom married him fast and we had this unspoken tension ever since. Lingering hugs, accidental brushes in the hallway, his eyes on me when I'd come down in the tiny sleep shorts. Last year, a massive snowstorm hit our Colorado

town right after Christmas Eve. Powered flickered, roads closed, and my husband got stuck at his parents an hour away, just me, Mom and Grant until Mom passed out early from too much mulled wine, leaving us alone by the roaring fireplace, wrapping last minute gifts under the twinkling tree. I was in a red satin nighty with fuzzy tram a joke from I gifted from my husband, no bra, nipples hard from the chill. Grant was in flannel pants and a tight thermal shirt, pouring us both whiskey to

stay warm. We talked, really talked, for the first time in years, about life, Krett's desires. His voice was low, gravelly as he emitted, noticing me more than he should. You've grown into a stunning woman, he said, his hands brushing my thighs as he reached for the ribbon. The air thickened like frosting. I should have moved away, but I leaned in, whispering, show me how much you've noticed. Daddy.

That word undid him. His kiss was possessive. Years of restraint, shattering as his tongue claim mine, Tasting of spice and smoke. He pulled me onto his lap, my nighty riding up. His hands gripped my ass hard enough to bruise. You can't, he growled, But his cock was raw, hard, un beneath me, straining against his pants. I ground down, moaning softly, but me are. He carried me to the guest room downstairs, away from mom snores, Lying me on the bed, ammad

shattered wrapping paper and bows. His mouth was everywhere, sucking my neckiding my nipples through the satin until I arched, and then pushing the fabric aside, devouring my breasts like a starving man. His rough hands slid between my legs, finding my panty soaked so you're wet for stepdaddy, he murmured, fingers plunging deep, curling it to hit the spot while his thumb tormented my clit. I came fast, biting the pillow to muffle my cries. The Christmas lights from the

hall casting red and green glows across our skin. I returned the favor, dropping to my knees like this good girl, tugging down his pants to free his thick, cock veined, heavy, bigger than I fantasized. I licked him slowly from base to tip, then took him deep, gagging softly as he fisted my hair. That's it, baby, he groaned, thrusting gently the risk mom just upstairs. The storm howling outside made

every slarp electric. He pulled me up, bending me over the bed, spanking my ass once twice, the cracks echoing like jinging bells. You've been naughty all year, he said, roll playing into it, then thrust into me from behind with one smooth stroke, stretching me deliciously. He fucked me deep and steady, one hand over my mouth, the other rubbing my clitton circles. The bed creak rhythmically, ornaments on

the nearby shelf, tinkling with each pound. I came again, harder, my walls pulsing around him as he snarled, take Daddy's load. He buried himself deep, flooding with hot spurts, his body shuddering against mine. We collapsed, panting, then cleaned up quietly. He kissed my forehead, whispering, best Christmas ever. My husband made it home the next morning, none the wiser grant and I haven't repeated it yet, but every holiday glance

now carries that secret heat. This year's another storm's forecast. Yours anonymous, Hello, Anonymous, you dirty, dirty girl? How are we? So? I had something similar. It's not a step or anything like that, but it was someone that I knew. It was within our circle of how do I say this is keeping a anonymous? He was someone I knew's parent. Okay, silver Fox, very very very silver Clox had grandkids at the time. I was legal, Let's put it there. So I was, I was at that young age, and I

thought nothing of it. I didn't have there to me there was. I mean, there was some tension in certain areas and stuff in certain situations. I thought nothing of it. And then one day I saw him. And if you're from the South, you'll know what I mean by this, or Midwest. Typically, if you see someone driving by, you just wave right. Well, I saw him and I waved,

and he didn't wave back. He always waved back. And I remember following him and we drove down a little bit away from the main road and there was a church there, and for some reason we stopped in the church, like you know, off to the side, you know, and these, and I remember we were talking and I for some stupid reason that day and here you go, guys, I was wearing a short plaid plated skirt, kid, you not knee high socks. Yeah, I don't remember my shoes, white

knee on socks. And I had this white T shirt button up with a black vest on top. I was very naive, not not looking back now. Yeah, and of course you could see the white lace brawn or my white T shirt, my white shirt because it, you know, wasn't like a heavy thick shirt, you know. And my breasts were huge then huge. Okay. So as I got up in his truck so I could talk to him

because I was in a little car, you know. And I went and I sat in the passenger's side and not sinking anything of it, and Irene leaned in and gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek, and he goes, can I have a real kiss? And I tell you this to this and I kid you not. To this day, I can still hear him in my head, hands down. Yes we did, no, nothing happened, but yeah it's it's it is not my kidha shit, A leed up because it was so close to everything. Yeah, so no,

I didn't. I'm sure we I could have been talked Let's be honest. I could have been talked into it if one we weren't on a public road that a lot of our connections drove down. And two, yeah, I definitely could have talked me into it if we were in somewhere not in the church, though definitely not in that church. So there's a little something about me for Christmas present? How about that? I don't even know if

I told you guys about that yet. Have you ever had someone that you should be saying no to come around and things get out of control untill this day? And yes, it is in your spank bank. I'd really like to know, Dear Nikki. I'm thirty, a graphics designer in a busy Minneapolis suburb, and last Christmas the mall

became my personal naughty playground. The holiday season stresses me out, crowds lists, fake cheer, but our local mall goes all out a massive Christmas village in the center of the courtyard with twinkling lights, fake snow, and a throne where Santa Here's kids wishes all day. Last year, the Santa was Derek thirty eight, a part time actor with a real beard, piercing blue eyes, and a body that filled out the red suit in ways that should be illegal.

I'd seen them before, but something about that velvet pants in the boots made my mind wander to very unwholesome places. It started innocently. I was shopping late one evening, the mall thinning out but still open till ten p m. Kids were gone, but carollers roamed and family snapped photos by the hot displays. I lingered near Santa's Village, watching Derek wrap up his shift, posing for a few adult

choke photos, mostly tipsy girlfriends on his lap. When the line cleared, he caught my eye, winked and said one more for the road. I laughed and climbed on and whispered my real wish I've been naughty this year. His hands squeezed my thigh under my cape, hidden from view the jolt between my legs this instant, he texted me later, he slipped his number into my shopping back like a pro. Village closes the tin, but I lock up meet me.

The risk was insane. Security patrols, light shoppers, cameras everywhere, but I was soaked just thinking about it. I waited in a nearby store till the lights dimmed, then slipped past the velvet rope into display. The sleigh was huge prop reindeer, piled fake gifts, surrounded by faux evergreens, and falling snow from the overhead machines. Derreck was waiting in full sanasuit minus the hat. Ho ho ho, little girl,

he growled, pulling me into the sleigh. His kisses of rough beard scratched deliciously as his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting of peppermint from the candies. He handed out hands everywhere mine, unbuckling, his wide belt, his hiking up my skirt, fighting my thigh highes, and no panties. I planned this, naughty, indeed, he murmured, fingers sliding into my wetness, pumping slow like carrollers.

Muffled jingle bells echoed from the atrium. The semi public thrill was everything, voices nearby, footsteps on tile, the occasional flash of a phone from stragglers. He bit me over the sleigh edge by hands gripping faux rather lanes as exposed of the cool air. He spank me once a sharp crack, swallowed the ambient music, then freed his crock, thick, hard, curving up like a candy cane, ready to be licked.

No time for foreplay. He rubbed the head along my slit, teasing, then thrust in deep the sleigh rock gently, bells jingling softly with each pound as he fucked me hard and silent. One hand clamped over my mouth. I glanced up through the fake trees and saw shadows of people walking by. Oblivious that pushed me over. I came clinching around him, knees buckling, biting his palm to stay quiet. He sped up, growling tink Santa's load, then pulled out, spinning to me.

To my knees, I sucked him desperately, beard tickling my forehead as he erupted down my throat, hot and thick. We straightened up just as the security light swept by. He locked the gate. I slipped out the side. No one noticed. We hooked up a few times after that

with that sleigh ride, the ultimate public risk Christmas miracle, yours, Nancy. Hello, Nancy, as I'm reading this and we're talking about people taking pictures and families walking by, you know you're on at least one of those photos, just saying, and you also know that someone saw, you know, just putting it out there. Someone saw someone saw you having a great time. I'm I'm, I'm, or they at least caught a glimpse and you guys changed positions and it was gone. And maybe they're thinking

I haven't gotten laid in a couple days. That's probably why, that's where their head's at. Just saying, if you had a chance to be with someone from Christmas Village on Christmas, would you take the chance. Would you take the chance to be able to rock your world? I hope you would,

even if it is a public risk. Just think you possibly then could be part of somebody's Christmas pictures and they don't realize it's a long time from now, you know, hopefully well they're not showing slides on big screen for the family and where you're blown up on a sixty eight or even nine FC nineties now ninety eight flat screen TV. That's a thought for you. I think this is a per fig place to end our Christmas debauchery.

I want to thank you again for joining me. I think the moral of our night be merry for mistletoe that leads to mischief, eggnog that loosens inhibitions, and step relations who know how to feel your stalking just right, and the redal still just a candy cane. Lovers, But after tonight, I bet you're eyeing that stripey treat a

whole new way. Now, what I really hope is that you go deck your own halls, and preferably with someone else's tensil again from me, Darcy and the Brits and enclosing, Hello lover, why don't you pin me over down by that Charlie Bowen Christmas tree that you have right in front of the fireplace. Give me a good railing we can feel loud again for your neighbor to hear. What

do you think I really want to know? Merry Christmas, you sexy sexy sexploridos, and don't forget to come again and again, have a wonderful Merry Christmas.