Santa Bear

[Barratboy]

The only good thing about being a Mall Santa - beyond the extra pay check and the opportunity to take some time off being a bouncer at the bar - was the eye candy. Sure, brats leapt onto my lap (and more than a few managed to kick me in the balls doing so) and sure sometimes there's barf and there's a hell of a lot of crying, but some of the young dads are hot, but this year's prize definitely went to one of the elves. I'd never see him at my other job as there was no way he'd step into something as untrendy as the bear bar, but I got to see him just fine in his tight green elf pants (which were more like shiny spandex or yoga wear than actual 'pants'). And, before he put on his overly long elf jacket, I could see he was slender, sported some sharp little nipples which looked to be perfectly edible. Naturally he was a dirty blond, had soft brown doe eyes and even had dimples. He was the best damn thing I'd ever worked with - except for the attitude. I hated his attitude.

See, he was a snob, an effete twink who knew he was cute and liked to drop comments into conversation to make sure we all knew who was looking at him (and that he'd noticed.) Once he found out I was gay, something I let drop casually to see if it would shut him up, it changed in tone, but his remarks were no less obnoxious, if anything, his remarks were even more unpleasant. For example I remember he said "I bet it's nice not having to worry about your gut, y'know, being a bear and all" and “I work really hard to stay this healthy and it’s a lot of work" and "It's gotta be hard to be around all the younger guys, eh? They probably blow right by you" and "I'm sure the bear community is interesting, I guess, but I'd get bored with all that flannel and denim."

Stuff like that. Still, as flaws went, it wasn't insurmountable. I liked young fellows with attitude; I liked to put them in their place and drill it out of them, and as for his mouth? Well, I had gags aplenty at home. As for his crack about how hard it was to stay healthy, I had something hard I’d love to introduce him to, and damn the consequences. To him, anyway.

Being Santa, I got to give the elves names, and he had no choice but to answer to Twinkie when we worked together, although his name was Parker, and I made sure to make him do any of the lifting - if only because I liked to watch him bend over, as only then would his coat slide up enough to show of his firm round ass. "Shouldn't you do this?" he'd ask, grunting lifting up the boxes of candy canes and little toys we handed out to the kids, trying to goad me on by adding "Aren't you supposed to be a big strong muscle bear under that costume?" It was said with mild contempt, and I could definitely hear it.

"Oh I can lift," I replied in a low voice into his ear as he passed by, "...but I prefer to shove." He stumbled, and nearly dropped the box. His eyes widened, as I put my Santa beard on over my actual short beard, and of course I smiled at him.

"What?" he asked.

I smiled wider. "You heard me. We bears don't mind getting rough. Especially when there's good reason." I let my eyes trail up and down his slender form and then put on my hat and left the little changing area in Santa's village to go to my throne.

When Twinkie showed up a few minutes later, he was a little more polite than usual at first, though he was back to his usual self by the end of the shift.

The next afternoon, he dropped another obnoxious comment, "It's hard to find guys who care enough about personal grooming. All that hair, ick!"

I waited patiently until there were no kids around and nodded at the red and over-sized white striped pole that was near the candy canes were stuffed in an open sack. "Hey Twinkie, give my pole a good rub-down."

He blinked at me, obviously not accustomed to being on the defensive, and in a shaken voice asked "What?"

I gestured to the North Pole. "It's dusty. Rub it down. I'm sure you know how. It's not complicated." He blushed, but I was the boss, so he grabbed some paper towel and a bottle of cleaner and started to clean it up.

"That's right," I said, pitching my voice to him as I walked past on my way to the throne. "Get it just wet enough. You don't want it too slick, or you'll never get it off." I squeezed his shoulder, and felt him shiver beneath me. I watched him work, and he didn't meet my gaze at all, and just before he was done, I saw him put his hand in his pocket and adjust himself. I smiled behind my Santa beard. This was going to be fun. I went in to full gear with him. Anytime Twinkie was alone with Santa, even if it was just a few seconds between kids, I'd find a way to drop a suggestive comment into the mix. "So what would you like Santa to shove through your chimney, Twinkie?" or "You want to suck on something? I got something right here." (And with that I would hand him a candy cane) or "Is your costume okay? You keep tugging at it" and "Santa could definitely use some warm buns - the pole sure is chilly."

I'd grab his shoulder and squeeze when I could, and before long he was flustered and clumsy. Here was a boy who'd never had an older daddy bear chasing after him, and he had no idea what to do. His first few attempts at banter fell a little flat, and when I turned his comments into further innuendo, he fell quieter each time, just blushing and going about his day.

"I'm pretty sure Santa would bring you any toy you'd like, Twinkie. You want to reach in and see what he's for you?" He blushed redder.

"I bet elf-ears make great grips." This made him nearly trip.

When we were changing after our shift on the last weekend before Christmas, he kept his back to me, and I admired his firm buns. When he tugged his jeans on over his elf tights I let out a little chuckle, and he flinched. When he put on his jacket and turned to leave, he saw I'd shucked down to my wifebeater and jeans, and I caught him looking at my wide chest and thick arms.

"You see something you want for Christmas?" I asked him.

He shook his head, blushed again, and said he'd see me Christmas Eve.

"Sure thing, Twinkie," I said. "And I've got a present for you, too."

He looked up, and I smiled at him in a way that made his whole body shiver. He moved to leave and I stepped in front of him just enough to make him hesitate.

"Excuse me," he said.

I smiled again. "I thought twinks just blow right by bears like me."

He bit his lip, and had to slide by me. I let my hand brush his thigh and the back of his ass, and he let out a little breath as he escaped. I laughed loud enough for him to hear, and then got changed.

Christmas Eve there were four of us working, and I brought each of the other elves a present to take home – Twinkie eyed his nervously – and when the long day finally ended, I turned to the other two and said, “You two can go ahead. I’ll give Twinkie a ride.”

If they noticed his discomfort, they didn’t care – he’d made no friends of any of the six of us he worked with with his initial attitude – and they left as soon as they could. I watched Parker open up a box to put the last of the toys and candy canes in while the mall announced it was closing.

“You make sure that whatever goes in goes in tight, Twinkie,” I said, and he bit his lip, working silently. We pulled down most of the more portable bits, and after a half-hour or so, I nodded. We were still in costume.

“Okay,” I said. “The mall maintenance crew will do the rest before opening on Boxing day. Come on,” I said. My little elf followed quietly into the small room behind the throne, and I pulled off my beard and hat, waiting for it. I started to undo the buttons on my Santa jacket before he finally said something. He’d taken off the elf jacket – I could see his slim body trembling a bit in his plain white t-shirt and those tight elf pants and stupid curly-toed shoes.

“Where’s my bag?”

I feigned looking around. “Maybe one of the other elves took it?”

He looked at me. “Please.”

I smiled. “Let me look in Santa’s sack.” I made a show of looking in it, then said. “Nope, no clothes in there. Hey – check your present out. I know I said it was for later, but open it now.”

He glanced around, then went to the box I’d wrapped and marked for Twinkie. He pulled it open quickly – he was a tearer, I noted – and then opened the lid.

“You like it?” I asked, smiling. “You could wear that.”

It was a green jock strap – the same colour as his elf costume – and across the waist I’d had “Twinkie” embroidered.

He looked up at me. “Look,” he said, but his voice cracked a bit. “I’m sorry about all the stuff I said... You’re a nice guy.”

I smirked. “No I’m not. I’m not nice at all, Twinkie. But I think you like that. Or at least, your dick does, if that semi you’re sporting is any indication.”

He bit his lip, and I took a step toward him. “Tell you what, Twinkie. Maybe you should get changed, and sit on Santa’s lap, and tell him what you want for Christmas.”

“I want my bag,” he said, but his voice had even more of a tremble to it now than before.

“Then ask Santa,” I said, and smiled at him, pulling off the jacket and dropping it to the floor. The wifebeater I wore underneath was a bit damp from the work we’d been doing. I turned the only chair in the small room around, and sat on it, spreading my legs a little and crossing my arms.

He looked at me for a long time – I imagine he was trying to stare me down – but I just held his gaze and smiled. Finally, shaking even more, he started to walk toward me.

“No no no,” I said, raising one hand. I let my arm flex, and I saw his eyes shift to look. Oh, this was too easy. “You need to get dressed up for Santa.”

He froze. “I...”

“You want to ask Santa for a present, don’t you?” I smiled, and stretched my arms over and behind my head until my back cracked. He winced at the noise.

Then he nodded.

I watched him shuffle back to the box he’d unwrapped, and then he turned his back to pull his t-shirt over his head. I laughed low in my throat, and he flinched again. The smooth skin at small of his back emphasized his narrow waist. I laughed again when he kicked off his elf shoes and then hurriedly peeled off his elf tights in one quick motion and stumbled a bit trying to put on the jockstrap as quickly as he could. I got a great view of his lean legs and his round ass cheeks, as pert and tight as I imagined, especially when he bent over to step into the strap. I caught a glimpse of his balls, too – he had low-hangers – and was unsurprised to see no hair on him anywhere.

He stood there, facing the wall, just breathing.

“Come on over, Twinkie,” I said.

He took a deep breath, and turned around. The bulge in his jock-strap made it obvious that despite his mild protest, he was definitely reacting to the situation. His stomach was as smooth as I imagined, and his chest was lean and fit. His nipples were as small and as sharp as I’d imagined, and I couldn’t help but leer at him. He approached slowly, and I made a grand show of patting my thighs.

He shifted awkwardly in front of me, and then started to sit down across my thighs. I wrapped one thick arm under his and with a quick tug I pulled him into my lap, where – no doubt – he could feel my already obvious hard-on pressed between his wonderful ass cheeks. He shifted, and I wrapped both of my arms around him and squeezed.

“Well hello, Twinkie,” I said, and he ducked his head a little, his hands gripping tightly in his lap, obviously trying to cover his arousal. I put my lips to his ear. “Have you been naughty or nice?”

He looked up at me, his brown eyes wide. “What?”

I raised one eyebrow. “You know how this works, Twinkie. First Santa asks if you’ve been naughty or nice.” I let go of him just long enough to wrap my arms back around him and squeeze, pinning his own arms against his chest. He was sitting across my lap, his legs over the side of my chair, and squeezing him pulled his face more toward my chest. I squeezed again. “Now, Twinkie, have you been naughty or nice?”

“I...” He swallowed. “I’ve been nice.”

I laughed, and it wasn’t a ho-ho-ho. “Oh, Twinkie. Santa has a list, and he knows you’ve been naughty.” I slid my left hand across his chest, and pinched one of his pert little nipples. He yelped, and squirmed in my lap. It made me growl low in my chest, and my dick grew harder. I looked at his jock, and saw he was definitely squirming in a good way, too.

“Naughty or nice?” I repeated, rubbing his nipple again.

“Naughty,” he said. I laughed again.

“Good boy, Twinkie,” I said. “Now, you know what happens when you’re nice?”

He swallowed. “I get a present?”

I nodded, and squeezed again. “Very good, Twinkie. Now what do you think happens when you’re naughty?”

He closed his eyes for a second, and I shifted just enough to grind my hard-on against his butt. He squirmed again, and it felt just as good.

“N-n-no,” he wavered.

“Santa gets the present,” I said, and with that I slid my left hand down his back and let one finger slide between those delightfully round ass cheeks just a bit. He let out a yelp, and tried to slide off my lap. I held him long enough to let him know I could have made him stay on my lap, then let go. He slid off, but I moved my hands to his shoulders and pushed hard enough to make him sit down at my feet. He looked up at me.

“Time to give my pole a rub-down, Twinkie,” I said, and undid the broad flap on the Santa pants. His eyes locked on my crotch as I unfolded the pants open, and revealed the black jock strap I was wearing underneath.

“Then I can have my bag?” he asked. I liked this – he was agreeing already, in his own way.

“Then you can ask for your bag,” I agreed.

He leaned forward, and lifted a hesitant hand. I reached out and took his wrist and pressed it against my hard dick. He rubbed it, applying a little pressure, and kept his eyes away from mine.

I chuckled, and he looked at me.

“I’ve seen you do better. You know better. Rub it down, boy.”

He bit his lip, but shifted forward between my legs – which I spread a bit wider for him – and then he used both hands to pull my dick free of the jockstrap pouch, tucking it to the side. I’m sure the thick hair bugged him, but he wrapped his hand around my shaft and gave my dick another tug. He watched the foreskin tighten, and then gave it another tug. I got harder, and my cockhead started to peek out on his down strokes.

“Now get it just wet enough, Twinkie.”

His brown eyes met mine for the briefest of moments before he looked down again. His hand shook on my hard dick, and I exhaled long and loud.

“Come on, Twinkie. You want to ask Santa, don’t you?”

He leaned forward, moved one hand to my thigh, and then opened his mouth to suck my dick. When his lips wrapped around my cock, I let out a contented rumble, and leaned back in the chair. He was breathing quickly, and I had the urge to grab the back of his head and shove him down until I was in his throat. I resisted. Barely.

He bobbed his head down a bit, and I groaned. The elf was a decent cocksucker, it turned out. I shouldn’t be surprised. The loud ones are always the ones gagging for a dick.

After he sucked for a few strokes, I couldn’t resist putting a hand on his head, and though he tensed, he didn’t pull away. After a few more strokes, his tongue licking my dick and him getting used to my thick cock, I tightened my hold on his hair and lifted off the chair a bit to meet his sucking with a short thrust. He gagged a bit, but I held him firm as his hands gripped my red cloth pants.

“Yeah, Twinkle, that’s not bad. You’re doing good, boy.”

He slurped and sucked and sometimes gagged a bit, until finally, when I was good and hard, I pulled him away from my dick with a quick jerk. His brown eyes were watery with tears from when he’d gagged a bit. I looked down at him, and he bit his lip when I tugged his hair tighter.

“Please..?” he said.

“What’s that, Twinkle?” I asked, amused.

“Can I have my bag?”

I smiled down at him.

“You don’t ask from down there, boy,” I said, shaking my head. “You know better than that, boy. Back onto my lap. And ask properly.”

He shivered, and his eyes widened for a moment. “What?”

I spread my legs a little wider, and slapped my red-cloth-covered thighs. My cock stood tall and proud – I’d put on a cock-ring before work for just this moment. Parker swallowed, but he rose shakily, and once again tried to sit sideways across my lap.

“No no no,” I said, and grabbed his waist, turning him to face me. I slid my legs between his, one at a time, and then pulled at his waist until he slid forward and crouched over my dick. He sat down with a whimper, and I felt my cock pressed between those luscious round cheeks. His face was right in front of mine, flushed and awkward. He stared at my chest. I wrapped my arms around him again, and rocked him back and forth a bit, my cock sliding along his crack.

“Now then,” I said, leaning ahead and putting my beard right against his ear. “Do you have a question for Santa, Twinkle?”

“Can I have my bag?” he asked.

“Hrm,” I said, and shifted my weight under him, rubbing my dick between his ass cheeks again. “Santa will let you reach into his bag, since you’ve admitted to being naughty. Let’s start with that.”

Parker tensed, and I leaned over – more wonderful friction between my dick and his sweet cheeks – and I glanced down to see a telltale wet-spot on the front of his green jockstrap. His dick was very hard. I pulled up the bag and held it just a little out of his reach.

He leaned over to get it, and I shifted just-so underneath him, rubbing my dickhead across his pucker for a moment. He let out a little whimper, and I smiled and let him reach into the bag. He pulled out a smaller bag, one of a few I’d put in there, and he held it in one hand. I slid my hands back to his waist and pulled him back onto my lap again, grinding my dick up between his cheeks and pulling him even closer to my stomach and chest.

He undid the knot on the bag with trembling fingers, holding the small red bag over my stomach and then reaching inside and pulling out the first of the two items – a small bottle of lube.

He swallowed.

“There’s more, Twinkie,” I said, and took the little bottle from him.

He reached in again, and pulled out the ball gag. I could tell at once he had no idea what it was, and I smiled at him. “It’s to stop naughty boys from saying naughty things,” I said, and he bit his lip frowning at the rubber ball and straps.

“Please, I... I’ll be nice...”

I smiled, and took the ball gag from his fingers with my free hand. I pressed it against his lips, and he whimpered before opening his mouth. I pushed it in, and then put the small bottle of lube in my mouth while I took the straps of the ball gag and tied them around the back of Parker’s head. I took the lube from my mouth and smiled at the young man. His eyes were wide.

“That’s much better,” I said. “Can’t say naughty things, can you?”

He made a noise, and I smiled even wider.

“You know, I think Santa’s pole isn’t as wet as it needs to be. Don’t you agree, Twinkie?”

Parker whimpered as I uncapped the lube and squirted some onto my open hand. When I reached behind him with the hand that held the bottle and tugged him up and off my dick, he pressed against my stomach and chest, shaking as he spread his thighs and balanced on his knees in a half-crouch over me – it wasn’t a position he could keep for long. I rubbed my lubed hand against my dick, then started to stroke my fingers up between the young man’s ass cheeks, pouring more of the cool liquid onto my fingers and giving his pucker a little prod with my finger tips. Parker’s hands gripped my shoulders and he was breathing in little puffy breaths, his knees shaking against my thighs, propped up against me. I moved my head a little and found his little pointed left nipple with my mouth and gave him a little bite. Ah, his nipples were sensitive, as was his little twink rosebud. Perfect. I sucked on his nipple.

The noise he made into the gag was music to my ears. I pushed a little harder with my fingertip, and he pushed back against me, unable to help himself and still perched half up on his knees.

“Oh, Twinkle,” I said, freeing his left nipple and sliding my mouth across his chest to the other side. “I think you want to be nice for Santa, don’t you? Very nice indeed...” He shivered again, but when I gave his right nipple a stronger bite, his whole body shook and the groaned into the ball-gag and my fingertip slipped into his pucker.

I rubbed at him for a few moments while I chewed on him, and he groaned and writhed against me, his legs now quaking with the effort to stay upright against me. His hands gripped at my shoulders, now a bit damp with sweat, and I growled as I bit and sucked and licked at his nipple. I slid my finger further into him, prodding a little further, and he groaned again.

Enough. I pulled my finger free – he let out a small moan into the rubber ball. I dropped the lube, gripped my dick, and reached up to the back of his neck and pulled him back down, aiming my cock upright between those pert round ass cheeks, right at his pucker.

He cried out into the ball-gag, but gravity was against him, not to mention a big bear with a strong arm. He sank onto my dick and I felt that tight bubble butt open for my cock a few inches. He tried to brace himself against my shoulders again, and his head hung, his eyes clenched shut, while he grunted and groaned into the ball-gag. He was crouched, half-buried on my cock, his lean thighs shaking with the effort.

“Oh, fuck yes,” I growled, and gave him a little buck. He cried out into the gag again, and squirmed on my dick, which only made my cock go in deeper. He whimpered and I pulled on him again.

“Come on, boy,” I said. “You know you want Santa’s dick... that’s a bear dick sliding into you, boy...” I bucked again, and he cried out again, his legs shaking, and another inch of my cock slid inside him. He was so fucking tight. His voice was perfect now that it was silenced by the rubber ball-gag.

“Oh, that’s a nice boy,” I growled. “Santa wants you to side down on his lap, and then you can ask him again, like a good boy...”

Parker whimpered into the ball-gag, but his legs were shaking from his awkward crouch, and his ass was sending his brain the feedback that all good bottom boys get when there’s a dick half-way up their hole. He sat down on my dick, his cheeks speared on my dick, and his own dick hard and poking out now from the pouch of his green jock. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing in sharp puffs from his nose, still crouched above me, his calves now bearing his weight but his legs still half-bent in a squat.

“Look at Santa, boy,” I said.

He opened his eyes, and met my gaze. I nodded, and slid my hands down to his waist and gave him a sharp tug towards me. My cock ground around inside him, and his surprised yelp into the ball-gag made it obvious that my cock was rubbing him just right. Typical twink bottom boy – get some meat into him, and he just can’t help himself.

“Okay, Twinkie. You want Santa to give you presents, don’t you, boy?”

I tugged him toward me again, my cock hard and buried balls-deep up his ass. He groaned wildly, and nodded. I smiled, and ground my cock into him again, then reached over to my bag – not the Santa bag this time, but my own – and pulled out the cuffs I’d put in there. Parker didn’t notice at first, he was enjoying my dick rubbing him as I tilted, but when he saw the cuffs, his eyes widened.

“First present, boy. Hands,” I demanded.

He was shaking, but he held his hands out in front of him, obeying. I cuffed his wrists together, and then pulled his arms over my head, his cuffed hands now trapped behind my neck. Then, with no further pause, I started to jerk him towards me with rough tugs to his waist. He groaned and grunted, crying out, and I felt his hands twist and writhe behind my head.

“Yeah, that’s a good present for you, boy, isn’t it?” I growled, and when he didn’t answer, I slapped his ass with my hand, hard.

He yelped into the gag.

“Isn’t it?” I asked again.

He nodded, making inarticulate noises into the gag as I ground my dick in a slow circle inside him, rocking him to the left and the right.

“Hold on, boy... This hairy bear has another present for you...” I gripped under his legs, and rose from the chair. My cock, buried in his tight pucker, must have speared him as I slowly rose to my feet, and he moaned, his arms tight around my neck, his back arching, and his legs wrapped around my waist. He was helpless, hung around my neck, impaled on my cock, and totally at the mercy of his ass, which was definitely clenching around my meat. He groaned and grunted as I managed to grip his ass in one hand to hold him in place while my other shucked the oversized red pants down. I stepped out of them in nothing but the black boots now, and then walked with the young man riding my dick all the way to the one solid wall of the little hut – the one built against the back of the escalators in the mall.

I shoved him into the wall, and buried my dick into him hard. He cried out again.

“Okay, you little shit,” I growled into his ear. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for weeks, and now I’m going to take it out on your ass in trade.” I slammed him again, burying myself deep. “With interest.” I pressed him against the wall, and used one hand to tug his head to the left, so I could rub my rough beard all over his smooth neck before giving him a rough bite and other three hard thrusts against the wall.

Parker whimpered and moaned and cried out into the ball-gag.

“Such a fucking whore, aren’t you?” I snarled. “High and mighty, but put a dick up your ass and you’re nothing but a chew-toy for the bear, aren’t you?” I squeezed his ass cheeks so tight it would bruise, and rammed him again. He cried out into the gag again and again.

“Aren’t you?”

He nodded over and over, agreeing as his skin grew wet with sweat. My wife-beater was getting wet with my own sweat, and I could smell us as I fucked him like the cheap little shit he was.

“You ready for your last present, boy?” I snarled at him, reaching up and gripping his chin with one hand, and making him face me. His eyes were wide and they fluttered when I rammed him again and again, the friction magic with the lube and his tight hole.

“Boy?” I growled.

He nodded.

I reached under him, and unsnapped the cockring. My balls ached with the urge to spunk inside him. Then I reached back up gripped the back of his head. I picked up my pace, ramming him ruthlessly.

“Here’s your choice, boy,” I said, voice even. “You can let me breed you boy – fill you right up with my dirty bear cum and give you the gift that keeps on giving – or you can have your clothes back. Your choice.” His eyes widened as what I was saying made it to his foggy getting-fucked brain. I laughed when I realized it took him so long because he was so close to coming himself. “I’d say you’ve got about six or seven thrusts from this bear dick before you need to choose...”

I undid the snaps on his ball gag and tugged on the ball-snapping it free. I rammed home again. And again.

“Please!” he gasped.

I rammed him again, grinding him against the wall. “Please what, boy?”

“Oh!” he gasped, “Oh, oh fuck! Please! I need... I can’t...”

I fucked him again, and his moan seemed to come from deep in his stomach. “What do you need? You need me to fuck you and fill you up, don’t you boy?” I rammed in hard.

“Yes! I mean, oh, I mean...” His head slammed against the wall with every thrust, and reached up and gripped his head in both hands, spearing him against the wall with one last rough lunge as my balls unloaded deep into his boy-ass. His eyes never left mine, and he cried out as his own dick spurted between us, slick against his smooth stomach and rubbing into my damp wife-beater.

I stayed buried inside him while my cock surged twice more, and then ground myself into him a little bit before I pulled away from the wall. His arms tightened around my neck, and he let out a little choked sob.

“You want your clothes now, boy?” I asked him. My cock slid free from his ass, and I felt some of my sperm drip onto my thigh as he shifted to stand on his own feet, his arms still around my neck. I fingered his slick hole, and he whimpered a little.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Yes please,” He said.

I smiled. “Good boy. And then Santa will give you a ride back to his place. He’s gonna fill your chimney with presents all night long, boy. You like that idea, Twinkie? This bear is gonna tie you down and you’re going to learn how much you like a hairy man who can plow you so hard you’ll be begging to pass out. You want that for Christmas?”

Parker looked at me, and swallowed hard.

“Yes, sir.”

I smiled. “I like your attitude.”

Edited December 27, 2013 by Hotload84

[Guest JizzDumpWI]

Hey where was THIS Santa when I was a twink?

[cublad]

brilliant story as always Barratboy, very festive!

[latinoisobears]

I need a dirty Santa like that!!! Please! Give it to me!

[sam_puppy]

So fucking hot

[TTFN]

A great story for the season.

[Hellboy]

So hot