Ballbusting Santa!

[Tara J]

Hey guys, its been a few days. Tried working out a fantasy story about Santa. Enjoy!

I woke up to the unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoing through my apartment. My heart raced as I sat bolt upright in bed, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. In the dim light seeping in through the parted curtains, I could just make out strange shapes moving about in the living room. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I slowly, cautiously crept out of bed and toward the source of the commotion.

My heart sank as I peered into the living room and saw the figure crouched down by the Christmas tree. At first, I thought it was some sort of intruder, but then I saw the red suit and the distinctive white beard. It was Santa Claus.

My anger quickly turned to confusion. What on earth was Santa doing in my apartment, let alone snooping around in my things? As he remained hunched over, seemingly unaware of my presence, I decided to confront him. With a mixture of fear and frustration, I kicked out at him, aiming for his backside. To my horror, my foot connected with something else entirely: his crotch.

The sound of Santa's pained yelp filled the room as he crumpled to the ground. "Ahhhh!" he moaned, grabbing his crotch and curling into a fetal position. I felt a pang of guilt wash over me as I realized the extent of my actions. But before I could apologize, another emotion overtook me: curiosity.

"Santa?" I said tentatively, stepping closer. "Are you okay?" He didn't respond, but his body language spoke volumes: he was in serious pain. I felt a strange mixture of guilt, sympathy, and arousal welling up inside me. As if drawn to him despite my better judgment, I knelt down beside him and gently touched his shoulder.

"Santa, are you hurt?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. He moaned again, still clutching his crotch. "Oh, God," I murmured, suddenly realizing what I'd done. I'd kicked the jolly old elf right in the balls. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions as I looked down at him. There was guilt, of course, for causing him such pain. But there was also an unexpected wave of sympathy. Despite his appearance, he seemed so vulnerable and human in that moment. And then there was this strange, almost animalistic urge that I couldn't quite explain. It was as if some primal part of me was drawn to his pain, as if I needed to comfort him in some twisted way.

"Santa, are you okay?" I repeated, my voice softer now. I reached out and gently rubbed his back, hoping to provide some relief. To my surprise, he let out a shuddering breath and leaned into my touch. "There, there," I whispered, running my fingers through his white hair. "It's going to be okay."

As I continued to comfort him, I couldn't help but notice the way his body was moving beneath my hands. His breathing was becoming more steady, and his muscles were relaxing. A strange thought occurred to me: maybe I could help him feel better. My fingers traveled lower, brushing against the bulge in his red pants. I hesitated for a moment, but then I felt a surge of daring coursing through me.

I grasped the hem of his pants and pulled them down, revealing a very large, very red and very painful-looking set of balls. My stomach flipped as I saw the extent of the injury I'd inflicted. "Oh my God," I whispered, my hand moving to his scrotum. "I'm so sorry, Santa."

I carefully cupped his testicles in my palm, feeling them warm and heavy in my hand. I winced as I gently massaged them, trying to ease the pain he must be feeling. His breath hitched, and he let out a shuddering sigh. "That feels... better," he managed to croak.

I looked up at him, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. My heart raced as I realized what I was doing, but there was also a sense of calmness and purpose that came with the act. I continued to massage his balls, slowly working them between my fingers, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his perineum.

"That's it," he moaned, arching his back slightly. "Oh, that feels so good." His voice was low and raspy, barely above a whisper. I couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sound of his pleasure.

My touch seemed to be having an effect on him; his breathing was growing deeper, his body relaxing more with each passing moment. I felt a surge of power and control course through me as I realized that I had the ability to make him feel better. I leaned forward, my lips brushing against his ear. "Do you want me to stop?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

His response was immediate and unmistakable. He arched his back further, pressing his aching balls deeper into my palm. "No," he gasped. "Please don't stop."

The feel of his body moving against my hand was intoxicating. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and the musky scent of his skin filled my nose. I took courage from his words and continued to work my fingers, my thumbs moving faster now, circling and pressing and rubbing. His hips began to buck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes," he moaned. "Oh, yes..."

I couldn't help but let out a shaky breath as I felt the tension in his body begin to ease. His hips stopped moving, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh. I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as it slowly returned to its normal temperature. I kept my hand pressed against his scrotum, feeling the weight of his balls in my palm.

"Thank you," he whispered, finally finding the strength to look up at me. His eyes were glassy with emotion, and there was a mix of gratitude and something else I couldn't quite place. "That was... unexpected."

I couldn't help but smile at the way he said it. "You're welcome, Santa. I'm glad I could help."

His eyes drifted downward, taking in my hand resting on his crotch. There was a moment of silence as I wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps... you could help me with something else?" His voice was low and husky, and I felt a flush creep up my neck.

I took a deep breath and carefully shifted my position so that I was kneeling between his spread legs. I reached out and undid the buttons on his red shirt, revealing a firm, hairy chest. His nipples were hard and pebbled beneath my touch, and I couldn't help but lean forward and take one into my mouth. He let out a groan as I suckled gently, my free hand moving to caress his other nipple.

"That feels so good," he murmured, his hips beginning to rock into my touch. I moved my hand down, over his stomach, and further down to cup his warm, hard cock. He was already fully erect, and I stroked him slowly, feeling the heat and the weight of him in my palm. I looked up at him as I continued to work my hand, wanting to make sure that I was pleasuring him as much as I could.

His eyes met mine, and there was a look of desire and need that I couldn't quite understand. But I didn't question it. I just continued to touch him, feeling the way his skin moved over his muscles, the way his hips rocked into my touch. His breath came faster, his chest heaving with each ragged gasp.

I slid my hand up and down his length, feeling the smooth, hard flesh in my palm. I watched as he closed his eyes, letting out a moan that vibrated through his entire body. His hands found their way to my shoulders, gripping me tightly as he lost himself in the sensation.

I leaned forward, taking his cock into my mouth. The head pressed against the back of my throat, and I could taste the saltiness of his skin on my tongue. I began to move my head up and down, sucking and licking as I went. He thrust into my mouth, meeting my movements with a desperation that took my breath away.

His hands tangled in my hair, urging me on as he moaned and gasped. I could feel the tremors that ran through his body as he neared his peak, and I picked up the pace, wanting to help him get there. His hips bucked wildly, and his cock grew hot and slick in my mouth.

I couldn't help but wonder what this all meant. Was this some sort of Christmas fantasy for him? A secret desire that he'd never voiced before? Or was there something more to it? Whatever the reason, I couldn't deny that I was enjoying this in a way that I never had before.

As his orgasm neared, I increased the pace of my movements, sucking harder on his cock and licking the sensitive flesh beneath. His hips bucked wildly, his fingers tangled in my hair, and his breath came out in ragged gasps. His body tensed, and I could feel the hot rush of his release as he came, filling my mouth with his seed.

I held him tightly, not wanting this moment to end. His cock twitched in my hand as he slowly regained his breath, and I could feel the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. Gently, I pulled back, my lips still pressed against the tip of his cock. I reached up and wiped the excess semen from my lips, licking my fingertip clean.

His eyes met mine, and there was a sense of vulnerability there that I hadn't expected. He reached out and cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Thank you," he whispered. "That was... more than I could have hoped for."

I couldn't help but smile at the genuine emotion in his voice. "You're welcome," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. "I'm glad I could help."

[Myron Cumberland]

It's too bad Playboy went woke when Hef died. You could easily write for it, although with the ballbust, the story is better suited for Penthouse. Well done. I had to look up what perineum means. Thanks for the new word in my vocabulary.