Weihnachts-Elfe melkt Santa den Saft aus den Eiern

The tantalizing tale of the naughty elf and jolly Santa

Title: “Weihnachts-Elfe melkt Santa den Saft aus den Eiern”

Starring: Weihnachts-Elfe & Santa Claus, with special guest appearances by a sturdy pair of genuine leather boots and a huge bulging package

Setting: A cozy, well-equipped North Pole workshop with a roaring fireplace, complete with a huge plush armchair perfect for an aging St. Nick

Synopsis: The story revolves around a spicy Santa costume sex session between a naughty redheaded Weihnachts-Elfe and her jolly older partner, Santa Claus. The elf, skilled in the art of roping and stroking hard cocks, seeks to milk Santa’s huge load for all he’s worth – and she won’t stop until she’s squeezed out every last drop of his “saft”.

* * *

The rustic workshop door creaked open, and in sauntered a tantalizing Elf, her fiery tresses cascading down her back in loose curls. The green and red flannel pajamas did little to conceal her curvy figure, particularly as the top strained to contain her ample bosom.

“There you are, Santa! I’ve been looking all over for you!” she chirped, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Upon the padded seat opposite the crackling hearth, Santa DEFAULT.tree(“einsatz.einsatz/schema provisoire”));

Santa deflated with a disheartened sigh and slouched deeper into the chair. The old man had overindulged in Christmas cake and cookies, leaving him a slovenly lump, satisfied for the time being. He gazed at the elf with lidded eyes, but his massive paunch and magazine resting on his protruding belly made it clear the big jolly fellow just wanted to rest.

The elf smirked, padding closer on silent feet. “Oh, I see you’re bogged down with work as usual,” she murmured en route to the fireplace. It was an open question and she waited for a response that never came. Instead, she busied herself at the hearth.

Smoothly, she tossed another log upon the burning brands. Sparks flew and embers crackled. The Elf turned and winked at Santa as she removed her flannel top, revealing a skimpy lacy bra that couldn’t restrain the soft roundness of her big perky breasts.

She sauntered over with swaying hips and an eager glint. “Here, let’s get things rolling,” she said hat in hand. She expertly peeled off his black gloves, leaving his paws bare. Then, reaching down, she slowly undid his belt buckle, teasing the braided leather. Next to go were the utility belt and jingling bell with a teenage giggle.

The millisecond she tugged down the red velour pants, a shock of white revealed itself. Santa was au naturla under there! His stubby old guy legs, an interesting landscape of veiny varicose. And there, nestled in a thick matching tuft of winter hair – was the real Santa’s sleigh – an elephantine trunk and all! She spied his huge hoop and woefully believed she could dream up a way to get it to unload its toy bulge.

“M-a-a-ahhhhhh!” Santa’s Wagon, it seems, might’ve never been a hit toy for young folk due to reasons why these photos would never wind up in the big red book.

Maybe the spawn of Santa Claus himself is none other than Bob Harper, e.e. cummings’s circus man? *Note Woman: Mrs. Claus!

Who knows? The authoritative rainbow bear long gone, they send another color in, leave you on your own. Can’t work a decent ‘claus’ item no more. But then again, it’s Archie’s book. Get the hell out of it, Big Shoes.

The Elf gripped her hand around his massive tree trunk Mammut penis and began to stroke, pre-ejaculatory syrup oozing from the tip. “Santa, come on baby,” the Elf enthused, “you’ve got reindeer sacrificing duties to attend to! Let me help ya load up the sleigh!”

“Oh, ho ho ho… phew phew!” Santa exhaled heavily, his belly jiggling.

‘Ungh, this kid…’ ruminated the Elf.

“Come on, grandfather, let’s get this ‘shoot’ thing goin’!” The Elf continued massaging and coaxing the Santa’s massive meat log. She really got him going, and slowly, a seizing giggle escaped his lips.

“Oooh, you got me tuned up girl!” Santa exclaimed as juice began to spurt from his mammoth pole. The Elf deftly directed the flow towards the opening elves’ workshop door. With long, deliberate strides, she aimed Santa’s cannon of contraptions in 360 degrees around the room, splattering all the nearby abode.

“Hooo godamn!” Santa grunted, experiencing a massive release of tension after an excessively stressful season of Arabian nights in need of a ‘Fling’.

And so whilst Santa was distracted cleaning up the mess with balms and bandages, the Elf scampered off to prepare for her holiday shopping. Silly Santa! Never mess with an elf scorned. Not if you want the jailhouse Christmas elf to have his own ‘beloved’ of syringes Christmas! With a grin and an exposed top, she waltzed out the workshop door.