Fill up Mrs Claus while she fills in the gaps

The sash of your bathrobe flies in the chilling winter wind as you summit the roof, lugging your giant sack over your shoulder. Your robe hangs open, revealing your candy cane boxer shorts for the world to see, as neither the cold nor your old age seem to have any negative effect on your physical state. You tread cautiously on the slippery shingles all the same, remembering how you got this hat and sack in the first place.

Your sleigh is parked impossibly on the crest of your roof, balancing without the slightest wobble on the tiny ridge of angled shingles. Standing up in the front seat with an also impossible balance is your impossibly hot wife, Mrs. Claus. She holds out a hand to stabilize you as you climb up into the sleigh. You drop your sack in the back seat and kiss Mrs. Claus on the cheek like you've known her since just a little while after Constantine pushed the Jesus agenda back in the day. She flashes her pearly whites at you and slides her hand into your boxers, her warm caress making you feel right at home.

"Hey there Mr C. You feelin' alright?"

"I feel great, babe, thanks! Ready for Christmas!" You lean in to make out, ready to unwrap Mrs Claus' big old double Ds and see what she's got going on under the frilly red and white Santa's helper dress, but she stops you.

"Everything go okay in there?"

Now that you think about it, no, it didn't... did it? In fact it went pretty badly! You died in there! Wait, was that you who died? or was it... no it was Sant...y...a......

"No, sweetie, it sucked in there actually." She squeezes your throbbing cock in a show of sympathy. "I fuckin died in there. Lucky for the naughty and the nice girls of the world, however, I passed on the hat...to...me..." You start to get confused, trying to figure out exactly who you are... or were... but Mrs. Claus is there for you, like she always is.

"It's okay, my Polar Papa, you're here with me now, and we've got a list to check, that's all. I'll help you with it, don't worry."

One thing's for sure as the buxom blonde bends slowly down and wraps her mouth around your jolly old cock: you're not worried about it. You whip out your list from under your hat and the end of the parchment whips off in the wind over your shoulder continuing impossibly into the horizon. Each line has two words of Mrs. Claus' beautiful, practiced calligraphy, with billions of lines scrolling off in either direction. You glance at a few of the lines.

Maria: Naughty
Rosa: Nice
Ailani: Nice

Mrs. Claus comes up off your dick just long enough to remind you of what you find you already know; You're Santa Claus, and on Christmas, it's your job to give people what they deserve, naughty or nice. "Beyond that, the details are up to you, Mister Claus." She dives down on your dick and you decide to leave the list set just the way it is, women 18 and up, naughty or nice, though you know the list can be set to show whoever you like. The sack and the sleigh will help you get around with some extra gifts. You only have Christmas Eve to do it, but for you, all time is Christmas Eve, so you kind of have as long as you want. You may have just put on that hat five minutes ago, but you already feel like Santa.

You scan the list for a name, and the cursive lines fly by impossibly quickly until they stop in exactly the right spot:

Mrs. Claus: Nice

"Ahha, you've been nice this year Mrs. Claus! I've got a present for you my dear!" You warn Mrs. Claus you won't last long under her expert service, and she responds by wrapping her tongue around your shaft and pulling you even deeper. After a little more deepthroat, you pump her full of your cum for what feels like a year. She keeps your dick lodged deep down her gullet the whole time, and when she finally pulls off you, lips coming together to kiss the tip at the end, she sits straight up next to you and says:

"Mmm, like egg nog but better." She blinks lazily, puts her hand on your chest, and ruins the moment with the one question she doesn't have an answer to:

"Are we hitting the next house or are you going back in there?"

For the first time since you put on the Santa hat, you feel a little conflicted. On the one hand, the whole world of beautiful women is waiting for your gifts tonight, but on the other hand, there were three women in this house right here who hadn't gotten their gifts yet: your girlfriend Phoebe, her daughter Gina, and Gina's friend. Naughty or nice, you have something for each of them, and all you have to do is look them up in the list to find out which is which.

But do you really want to know?