A mother of three(four?)

As you eye the long line for Santa's picture, you notice a sad, but heartening sight before the stagefront. The two children of the woman behind the stoller were looking up at Santa and pointing gleefully. Even the little handicapped child inside the stroller seemed to glow as he watched the Christmas scene. The pretty brunette woman looked to be in her mid-thirties. She also appeared to be almost seven months pregnant. You could tell by the wistful look in her eyes that she neither had the ability, or the money, to stand in the long line for all her children to get photos with the jolly old elf. You summon Holly and Ivy to your side, and let them know, at least some of, your plans. Holly escorts the two twin tykes up the exit ramp to Santa. Ivy takes care of the little one in the stroller similarly.

You, meanwhile, turn your attention to mama. She just had the most beatific glow about her, despite her problems. And the woman was just plain gorgeous. She wore a gownlike white dress, the top a low-cut halter, cooling in the unseasonably warm weather. Double-seamed stitching below her boobs helped to support them. The gown seemed to accentuate, rather than hide, the swelling from her child. A ropelike belt of white gave support below her abdomen. The remainder of her dress fell in loose white sheaths, almost to her sandalled feet.

"Well, we've taken care of the children, what could I do for you, momma?" you ask, cradling the woman gently.

"You've already helped more than you'd know,"she says warmly, petting your blonde hair.

You feel the warmth of her breast below your ear. You look at the exposed cleavage, then gaze up to her chocolaty brown eyes.

"Please do," she says, "and maybe they won't leak all over later."

Even though your Christmas magic, vested to you by the special Santa outfit, keeps innocents from seeing any lascivious activities (while enhancing the experience of those who do), you pull the woman, named Emily, over to the seclusion of a fake fir tree. You then uncover her pregnancy-swollen breast and suckle it tenderly. You are rewarded with sweet warm milk. You switch to the other, careful not to go overboard. You can feel her tremble under your touch. You thank her by ducking under the folds of her gown.

Underneath, you find the lightly thatched fuzz of her pubes and lap her juices away, making the woman climax, hard. You continue to stroke and caress, supporting the woman until she regains her emotions, as well as control of her wobbly legs.

She grasps your hands as you stand back up. "You don't know how much I needed that release. My husband hasn't been too attentive lately." she tells you as she rubs her distended tummy. You accept a heartfelt kiss on the lips.

You feel another one of those tingles in your breasts, and a certain tightness in your corset. You figure your chest is just swollen with pride at being able to help the woman and her family.

You see her smile a toothsome smile over your shoulder. "Oh, here come my children!" You turn to see the toddlers ecstatic, the little one in the stroller even jiggling around in joy. As she is reunited with her family, you reach, not into your magic bag, but into the small pocket built into the waistband of the skirt and put the couple hundred dollars of mall gift certificates you had purchased for gifts into her purse. Another tremor stirs near your heart.

You return to the stage once again. It is almost time for Santa's half-hour break. And your stage debut.