Naughty and Nice: Day 10

Welcome to Day 10 of my Naughty and Nice Christmas vignettes. It’s nearing the big day itself, so my last three vignettes are all Christmas Day antics of Santa Daddy and his naughty little elf. Read on to find out just how naughty and nice their Christmas Day is!

Happy reading!

Ina x


The Advent Calendar

At midday, Santa Daddy’s little girl looked at the table. Everything was ready for all the guests. Ten of them. She hated cooking for loads of people. Red faced and grumpy, she looked at herself upside down in a spoon and stuck her tongue out at her weird reflection. “I wish Santa Daddy was going to be here. I miss him. I don’t like him being away on Christmas Day.” Just as the first bang on the door nearly knocked it off its hinges, her phone binged.

Little girly elf’s insides jumped when she realised it was a message from Santa Daddy. This is your special Advent calendar. Keep your phone with you. And with it was a video of her absent darling, blowing her a kiss. She blew one back, and then kissed his image on the phone. The door nearly rattled off its hinges again. There wasn’t time for her to take herself off to stroke her pussy. She sighed.

At 1pm, everyone sat down to eat. The chatter was more like thunderclaps. Poor little girl was still thinking of that video of Santa Daddy’s kiss. As she served up roast potatoes, she imagined his lips between her legs, kissing their way from her clit to her rosebud. She served the meat, imagining her mouth wrapping around his cock as he kissed her until she came.

“Are you all right, love? You look a bit flushed.” Mum frowned at her.

“Um…” Little girl swallowed hard. “Yep. Must just be the oven. Hot over there.”

Her phone binged. Under the tablecloth, she sneaked a peek at her phone. There was a picture of a log cabin. The message with it, said Fuck me (in there), it’s cold out here. She nearly choked on her pig in blanket — eating a sausage right now. He had great timing!

At 2pm, the meal was finally almost done. Dessert was exploding metaphorically out of everyone, but Uncle Bert was still packing it away, somewhere. She expected to see cheesecake squirting out of his finger ends, like a human icing kit. Her phone binged. It was all she could do to stop herself spluttering her own spoonful across the table. A shot of a bare lower belly, unmistakably Santa Daddy’s (she would recognise his shape, his hair, everything about him, anywhere), adorned with a beautiful sticky cumshot decoration sent her pussy into spasms. Its message: Thought you might need a drink to go with all that food. One hand slid under the table, down into her knickers as she swallowed her dessert.

“Could you cut me another slice of dessert?” Dad asked.

“Just help yourself,” she croaked. “It’s what I’m doing.” She gulped another mouthful of Christmas pudding.

At 3pm her phone binged. Everyone else was sitting in front of the telly, absorbed in the first words of the Queen. To the sigh of Auntie Mildred, cooing about ‘Her Majesty’s lovely brooch’, the little elf looked at her phone. A picture of a bed, covered in imitation snowflakes, stared back at her, with a message: You on that bed with me would melt those snowflakes quicker than any sun. While the guests were still enamoured of the screen, she wrapped her leg around the door frame and rubbed her pussy hard against the wood. Up and down, up and down, as she imagined how that would work inside that bed. Her naked back on the snowflakes, her Santa Daddy making her hot enough to melt a blizzard as he thrust into her… She sighed. It wouldn’t be long before she would have to start preparing Christmas tea.

At 4pm, her phone binged. All was quiet. Everyone turned and looked at her. She gulped and looked at her phone.

“Anything good?” cousin Ian asked. It keeps going off, doesn’t it?

Little elfy girl was staring straight at a picture of her own pussy. With it came a message: Are you wet now, little one? I want to spank this, and lick this, and most of all I want to fuck it. I’m missing you. She murmured to the phone, “I’m missing you, too.” She went to the toilet.

“You all right?” someone called. “Have you got a belly ache?”

It was another kind of ache altogether. On this occasion, she couldn’t resist removing her knickers and sending Santa Daddy a return picture, with the words: Yes, Santa Daddy. I AM wet. Look.

At 5pm, little girl was preparing food for Christmas tea. Everyone was laughing in the other room. They were playing charades. Uncle Bert had decided to alter ‘Willy Wonka’ to ‘Willy Wanker’. There had been drunken squeals as he’d begun his mime. The day was starting to weigh heavily on her. The sugar rush of the desserts had worn off. She just stood there, in the kitchen, feeling more alone than she did when there was no one else in the house. Her phone binged. It was a picture of a beating heart. The message: You have mine. It will always beat for you. Choking back her tears, she continued to prepare the food. She really wished Santa Daddy was home.

At 6pm, she had to watch Great Auntie Mabel sucking on a sausage roll. Her teeth had fallen out in her sandwiches and she’d wrapped them up and put them in her handbag. Santa Daddy’s little elf rolled her eyes and feigned a smile. Her phone binged. Her mouth fell open at the sight of a beautiful chiffon nightie, royal blue, with sequinned cups and a tie halter neck. She could almost touch it. Oh, how she wished Santa Daddy was here. It was the most beautiful colour, reminding her of the bridesmaid’s dress she almost got to wear once. She’d never forgotten. Message: If you’re blue without me, imagine what state I’m in, picturing you in front of me, wearing this. My cock is enormous. I’m leaving a wet patch in my pants. Because of you, my little elf. Tears sprung to her eyes. He was thinking about her, even while he was still busy. She went back to watching Auntie Mabel sucking, wishing so much that she was lapping at that wet patch Santa Daddy had. She loved it when his precum formed a string through his fingers.

“Don’t you want any tea, sweetie?” her mum asked.

“I’m saving a bit of room for later,” little girl replied.

At 7pm, just as everyone was beginning to disappear into the other room for drinks, her phone binged. It was a picture of a fire. This is how you make me: hot. I wanna make love to you in front of a roaring fire. I wanna make you burn for me. I wanna set that flame of your alight. She felt like she was on fire as Auntie Mabel asked if she had any condoms.

“Uncle Bert gets frisky when he’s had a few. I have to sit on him to calm him down.”

Poor little elf had enough to contend with at the thought of Santa Daddy lighting her fire. There wasn’t room to create images of her elderly relatives riding each other into oblivion. “Um…”

At 8pm, her phone binged as Dad and cousin Ian were arguing about which part of the country was the coldest. She looked, to find a picture of strawberries and a pot of melted chocolate. The message: Close your eyes and imagine me balancing strawberries all over your gorgeous, naked body. Imagine me pouring the melted chocolate over you. Now imagine it running down, down, into all your private nooks and crannies. Someone has to lick it off… and eat your fruit. As the argument continued, the one thing little elf did know was that the coldest part of the country was definitely not between her legs.

At 9pm, the drinks were freely flowing. Auntie Mabel and Uncle Bert had got so drunk that they were fumbling with each other in a corner. Little elf had at least been warned! Everyone always ignored them when they got like that. The only time mum stepped in was when they both decided that they could fuck without their clothes, rather than with them on. Dad had eaten too much. He said he really didn’t want to watch more bare flesh. He’d seen enough meat for one day. Little girl’s phone binged. It was a good job she didn’t concur with her dad’s views. There in front of her was a glorious image of Santa Daddy’s rock hard cock, its tip glistening. Message: I can’t wait to come to you. Or is that in you? She squirmed, pressing her folds against each other. Someone wanted a drink; she couldn’t get away. She wanted to thrust her fingers into herself. She wanted more. Maybe she could sneak a carrot out of the fridge… She wanted to be filled up.

“Fill her up!” called her to cousin Ian. She swallowed hard as Ian poured some kind of fluid in her glass.

“Is this what you wanted?” asked cousin Ian.

“Not really,” she replied.

At 10pm, everyone was a little sleepy, a little sozzled, and more than full. When her phone binged, she smiled. He must know how she felt. For there, on her phone, was a picture of her, asleep, in bed. She remembered sending it to him — she’d pretended to be asleep and let him see how she looked on Christmas Eve when she was being a good girl and eagerly awaiting Santa. The message read: I love it when you look like this. You look so cute. I’m so glad you’re mine. She smiled, cuddling her phone. He had no idea how happy she was to belong to him. An extra message binged through. I also want to wipe my cock across your lips until you wake and swallow my cockhead. She grinned. No one noticed; someone snored.

At 11pm, Great Aunt Drunk and Insulting was taken home by cousin Ian. They wedged her in the car (luckily, Ian hadn’t been drinking anything other than alcohol-free beer which made him sick), her legs akimbo as she tried to get everyone outside in the snow, singing ‘I’m Henry the Eighth I am’. They drove off, the window open and Great Aunt Embarrassing shouting ‘…and ev-er-y one was an Hen-er-y. Hen-er-y. She wouldn’t have a Willy or a…’. Dad heaved a sigh and said they would walk home now, too, and would she be all right, trying to prise Aunty and Uncle Fuck-Anywhere off each other so she could boot them out, too? Santa Daddy’s little elf said she would be fine. Her phone binged. It was a picture of a sleigh. She pulled a face at the phone. She had no idea what it meant. Message: See Santa’s sack? It’s so full. He can’t wait to empty it. Okay. Now she got it!

The day had been exhausting. Finally, everyone had gone home and Santa Daddy’s little girl stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as she dried the last of the dishes. Amid the Christmas music that was still playing, she thought she heard… well, she wasn’t sure what it was.

Flinging down the teacloth, she went to investigate. She was sure she’d locked the door behind the last guest, so no one could have sneaked in. Her heart nearly choked her at the thought.

There it was again: a bang. And another. Calling through the door, Santa Daddy’s little elf yelled, “Who is it?”

Her phone went ‘bing’. Breath coming rapidly, she glanced at it, noticing her hand shaking as no voice replied. She read the text from Santa Daddy: Open the door, little one. Santa Daddy is home.

She flung the door open, pouncing at her Santa Daddy and clinging to him by the neck, her feet wrapped firmly around his waist. If anyone had been nearby, they would never have seen his face; not because of his whiskers but because his little girl was devouring every inch of it with kisses. She was in no rush to stop, either.

“Remember what was on your calendar at three o’ clock?” Santa daddy’s words came in gasps between his girl’s squeezes and snogs.

“Uh huh. And two o’ clock,” she murmured, nibbling his ear.

“And what was at six o’ clock?”

“Oh yeah. It was beautiful.” Her lips ran behind his ear to the back of his neck, her legs pulling him so tightly against her that his hard cock dug into her knickers.

“Well, check in my sack.” Santa Daddy eased her off him and she delved into his sack to find a beautiful blue chiffon nightie.

“Your sack’s empty now, Santa Daddy.” She bit her lip as she groped her way around his crotch.

“That’s what you think, my little elf. You know what an advent calendar is for, don’t you?” He grinned at her. “It’s for counting down to the coming. Now – are you gonna let me in?”

Santa Daddy’s little elf grinned back. “You bet I am, Sir. I’ve been waiting for your coming, and I can’t wait much longer.”

The door closed; feet ran upstairs. there was a squeal, a sigh… Santa Daddy had come home, big time!

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