A visit from Santa!

"We have a costume for Daddy and a costume for Charissa," my daughter said. "Who's first?"

"I guess I'll go first," I said, smiling again at the babysitter.

"Great!" my daughter said. She reached into the small plastic bag and pulled out a giant bloody cotton ball. My eyes bulged -- what in the world? "Oh, it's all bunched up," she said and started to disentangle the mess. That's when I realized it was a Santa costume - or at least the top part of one. There was a big pointed red hat a fluffy white beard. "There!" she said with a beaming smile. "You're Santa!"

I laughed and fitted the beard and hat over my face. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but it made everyone else howl with laughter, especially as it didn't match my polo shirt and khaki shorts at all. I pranced around calling out ho ho ho and consulted with my "elves" about making gifts. I checked on the reindeer, polished the sleigh, and then made my way to human civilization for a scouting mission.

Sitting on the armchair in our living room, I beckoned to my daughter. "Well now, little girl, come tell Santa what you want for Christmas," I said in a comically low voice. She giggled and hopped onto my lap, regaling me with her wildest Christmas dreams and promising me she'd be good.

I invited my son to join next, and he laughed as well. He took it more seriously than my daughter, shrewdly seeing this as an opportunity to let me know what I should get him for his birthday in September. He also, of course, promised me he'd be good.

As he hopped off my lap, my daughter surprised me by shouting, "Charissa's next!"

"Oh, that's OK," I said. "I'm sure Charissa doesn't want to talk to Santa."

"Yes she does!" my daughter protested. "Everyone wants to talk to Santa!" When we hesitated, she begged, "Pleeease?!"

Charissa smiled and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" And she crossed the living room heading right for my lap.

"Ho ho ho," I said. "What's your name, little girl?"

Charissa sat right on my lap and said, "I'm Charissa, Santa." Her long, smooth, warm legs pressed against my own. Instinctively, I wrapped my right arm around her midsection, relishing in her exposed belly, back, and side and enjoying the proximity of her luscious breasts.

"Well, Charissa, have you been a good girl?"

"Well..." she said. "Yes, Santa, I promise. I've been very good." She adjusted herself on my lap, pulling closer to my chest and bringing her ass right next to my stirring cock.

"That's good, little girl," I said in my low voice, my left hand now resting on her leg. "And what would you like for Christmas?"

"Hmm... Let me think," she said. She pretended to think, prolonging our exposure. Turning to my kids, she said, "What should I ask for?"

"A pony!" "A puppy!" "A new car!" "A space ship!" "A husband!"

We were all laughing now, and Charissa smiled and said, "OK, OK, how about... A good book to read and a nice cup of tea?"

"Boooooring!" my kids shouted together.

"Well, little girl, I'm sure I can come up with that," I said. "Just make sure you don't do anything naughty between now and Christmas."

"Oh, I definitely won't, Santa," she said, putting one hand on my chest. "I promise."

She extracted herself from my embrace, my lap instantly missing the warmth of her legs, and I gave one last "ho ho ho" as I pulled off the costume.

"That was fun," I said.

"Yeah!" my son said. "And now it's Charissa's turn to dress up!"

"OK, sure," she said with a breathy laugh. She knew what was coming, but of course I didn't.

My daughter reached into the large paper bag and pulled out Charissa's costume for our next game.