Big Tits Lesbians
Redhead, Lesbians, Girl-on-girl, College Girls lesbian sex story
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Showed up for my first night of elf duty just as the chain holding back the screaming horde of kids from Santa's Winter Wonderland was lifted. The mob of SC-worshippers quickly trampled the plastic Rudolph's and Styrofoam Frosties in their headlong rush to throw themselves onto the plush velvet lap of Mr. Claus. And my somewhat tardy arrival didn't go over well with less-than-jolly old Saint Nick.
"Where the hell ... heck have you been!?" Father Christmas yelled at me as another elf escorted a hyperactive three-year-old out of his mother's arms and up and onto the Promised Land. "You should be here at least fifteen minutes before we open for business!"
"Sorry," I soothed the throned demigod, as I scratched my elfin headgear with my middle finger. "I guess you've never tried to spoon yourself into a costume three sizes too small."
He gave my stretched-tight holiday attire an appraising glance, his twinkling eyes lingering an inappropriately long time on my bountiful breasts, until the sucrose-charged kid with the inch-thick want list pulled his beard like it was Mommy's chain. "You are a big girl, all right," Santa said to me, ignoring the excited whisker-tugger, his voice hitting depths Barry White used to call home.
I one-finger adjusted my green, felt cap and red feather for a second time, then turned my back on his hearty leer. The last thing I needed to go along with a polar Green Giant job was a randy Claus. After getting laid off from my regular job, breaking up with my girlfriend, and putting my cat, Senor Whiskas, to sleep, I'd only just recently begun to rebuild my shattered life by snagging a couple of part-time jobs and picking up Senor Whiskas, Jr. from a neighbor whose cat had littered. Xmas was only two weeks away, and I was determined to make it a white, as opposed to blue, Christmas.
The gushing stream of babbling boys and girls dwindled down to a sticky trickle as the evening wore on, providing me an opportunity to get better acquainted with my fellow merry-makers. My elf-mate, Brandi Gilky, was a teenaged chain-smoker with a set of horse teeth wrapped up in the kind of braces I thought they'd outlawed with the iron mask. Her job was to lead the little lambs from parent to Pere Noel, but even that simple task proved difficult for the high school equivalency grad, as she was more often than not chatting up the packs of aimless boys who circled the decorated mall like hammerhead sharks circle a school of tuna. Or she was running off to the bathroom to do God's knows what, or who, leaving me pulling double-duty as greeter and retriever - steering the chattering tykes in and out with a minimum of free candy and tears. Still, the girl had a cute butt and a pair of nipples that dimpled her vest in a most appealing manner, so she wasn't all bad.
Santa, on the other hand, wasn't all good. He was a short little guy with a deep voice, blue eyes, and roving hands. He was sporting enough padding to fill a living room set, and when he wasn't two-fisting coffee, he was patting my costumed epidermis like he worked airport security. The dolly-jolly old coot was constantly caressing my hand or arm, or squeezing my elbow, whenever I came to collect his toy-seeking cargo. I figured that either Mrs. Claus was an icicle, or that Santa wasn't shy about stuffing his stocking whenever and wherever he could, because the sawed-off Christmas icon was as horny as a Salvation Army brass band.
I didn't mind his light-fingered, white-fingered pawing so much, but when the crowds really started to thin out, in prelude to mall-closing, he started blatantly groping me - patting my hip, rubbing my thigh, goosing me. Now, that was too much. "You and me are gonna have a little talk at ten o'clock," I told the lecherous pole-dweller.
"Just a talk?" he rumbled, his eyes gleaming as he fondled the oversized belt buckle that no doubt compensated for an undersized Yule log.
I handed him a glare that would've frosted most men's chestnuts, and finished out my shift in chilly silence. And when the candy-cane clock finally struck ten, and buttalicious Brandi with the braces re-chained the entrance to kiddy nirvana, I grabbed the crimson-clad lothario by the arm, pulled him onto his booties, and shoved him inside Santa's snow-painted workshop.
"Okay, bub," I said, shaking the chunky little ho-meister like a suspicious Christmas present, "let's get a few things straight. First of all, if you ever touch-"
I shut up when he kissed me full on the lips.
I gawked at the festive cherub like Daddy must've gawked when he caught Santa french-kissing Mommy. The guy was maybe five-foot-three, a hundred and ten pounds, while I'm almost six-feet-tall and a hundred and seventy-five pounds. It wasn't going to be a fair fight, but that was fine with me; he hadn't treated me fair all night. "Okay, you asked for it," I snarled, pulling back my fist.
He held up his hands, started laughing. "Wait a minute, Joy! Don't you recognize me?"
"Yeah," I responded, nodding, my big fist quivering like a bow-flexed arrow. "I recognize your type."
He chortled some more, then said in a voice gone from gong to bell, "It's me, Joy! Sandra!" She pulled off her wig and beard.
My arm dropped to my side and my eyes widened. I unscruffed her collar and gasped, "Sandra!?"
"Yes, it's me, you big lunk." She peeled off her gloves and coat, and then quickly stripped away her boots, pants, and padding, and stood in front of me in nothing more constraining than a black bra and panties.
Wow! She had unwrapped one hell of a Christmas present! My incredulous eyes flew up and down her hot body, landing briefly on her pussy and tits, while memories stirred in my head like a mouse on the night before the night before Christmas. Sandra and I had gone out a number of times two years previous, before she'd moved to another city, and during those dates I had discovered depths to my want, heights to my passion, and intensities of orgasm that I'd never thought existed before. And with those sugar-plum sweet visions dancing in my dizzy head, I eyed the sexy blonde babe and licked my dry lips with a wooden tongue. "You're back in town?" I whispered.
"What does it look like?" she replied, blushing under my heated stare. She plucked out some hair pins and ran her slender fingers through her long, silky tresses. "Things weren't working out, so I quit my job and moved back here about a month ago. I just took this Santa gig to earn some extra money." She grinned. "I'm quite the actress, don't you think?" she said, in the bottom-of-the-monkey-barrel voice that had fooled all the kids, and yours truly.
"I don't wanna think," I muttered, and grabbed the tiny honey in my arms and crushed my lips against hers.
"Yes, Joy, yes," she breathed into my mouth, her erect nipples pressing urgently into my soft breasts.
We kissed long and hard and hungrily in the cramped, shadowed confines of Santa's sweatshop, and then I parted her full-bodied lips with my slippery pink spear and we frenched each other. It had been much too long for both of us, and we savagely took up where we'd left off a couple of years ago, swirling our tongues together in a ferociously erotic ballet.
She broke away from my mouth and said, "Shouldn't we, uh ... shouldn't we find a more, um, comfortable spot for our reunion?"
"What better place to be naughty?" I responded with a wicked smile, knowing that my overpowering desire demanded to be quelled right then and there. I tore off my elfish duds like they were blazing with chimney fire, and then more slowly and sensuously slid my panties over my big, round butt and popped open my bulging bra. My snow-white breasts spilled out into the open in an avalanche of flesh, and my ultra-pink nipples peaked at full one-inch hardness in the humid, super-heated air. My pussy was moist and raw, aching for fingers and tongue.
"You put the hour in hour-glass figure, baby," Sandra said, staring admiringly at my over-ripe body and reaching up to stroke my short, black hair. She then cast aside her own undergarments, along with her inhibitions, and we passionately embraced again, our nude, lewd, flaming bodies and need threatening to reduce the faux-gingerbread house to a smoking lump of coal.
We frenched some more, then I captured Sandra's darting tongue between my teeth and began sucking it. She stuck her slimy pleasure tool as far out of her mouth as she could, and I urgently sucked up and down its wet, rigid length like someone might suck a swollen candy cane. She caressed and fondled my tits as I did so. Then the petite cutie broke away from my mouth and really went to work on my chest. She clutched my breasts, squeezed them together, and teased my sensitive buds with her playful tongue - spanking first one distended nip and then the other, swirling her tongue around my huge aureoles. Then she swallowed a nipple in her mouth and tugged on it.
"Yeah, Sandra! Suck my tits!" I shrieked, my lust-addled voice booming out joy to the world.
The faint whir of floor-buffing machines could be heard after my scream-echoes had died down, as the mall cleaning staff worked away just outside the thin walls of our sugar shack, but at that moment, and the sexually-charged moments that followed, I could have cared less if the real Claus himself had stormed down the chimney demanding milk and nookie. Sandra was working miracles on my tingling tits, sucking hard on one engorged nipple and then the other, bobbing her blonde head back and forth between my boobs, cheeks billowing, breath steaming out of her flared nostrils as she greedily fed on my tits.
"God, that feels good," I groaned, as she kneaded and tongued my Christmas mams.
She looked up at me, her eyes wild, her hands and mouth full of titty, and she asked, "Can you still handle the vertical sixty-nine, baby?"
I stroked her golden hair with trembling fingers, closed my eyes while she painted my glistening nipples with her hot saliva. "For you, sweetie, I think I can summon the strength," I murmured.
And with that assurance, she jumped into my arms and wrapped her legs around my waist. I opened my eyes and set myself, then carefully maneuvered the gorgeous, light-as-feather hottie around until I was facing her delightfully drenched blonde pussy. I held her easily, shouldering her smooth, supple legs as she coiled them about my neck. She wasted no time in spreading my pussy lips and plunging two fingers inside my burning snatch.
"Fuck, yeah!" I yelped, my knees buckling as the anxious girl frantically finger-fucked me, as she probed my clit with her warm, wet tongue. I gripped her taut little ass cheeks, breathed in her moist, musky scent for a couple of ticks, and then drove my tongue into her pussy.
"Yes, Joy! Eat me!" she squealed, hammering her fingers in and out of my soaking wet pussy, buffing my swollen clitty with her tongue.
I felt a wave of incredible heat rise like a fiery tide up my quivering body, and I knew that devastating orgasm was not far away. I lapped at her smoldering twat, tongue-stroking her from clit to butthole in long, sensuous strokes. She squirmed in my arms, but I held on tight, never wanting to let go, ever again. Then I latched onto the girl's pink, protruding nub with my lips and sucked for all I was worth.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed, even as she desperately plowed my pussy with her fingers, polished my electrified clit with her thumb.
She let out a high-pitched, almost inaudible moan and spasmed uncontrollably as an orgasm exploded inside of her. She was jolted again and again with ecstasy, as orgasm after orgasm thundered through her, shattering body and soul.
I quickly joined her in our rediscovered sexual utopia. "Merry fucking Christmas!" I bellowed, as a searing orgasm churned through my quaking body, rapidly followed by another, and another. I blindly struggled to tongue up Sandra's scalding girl juices as she came over and over, as she sent my own senses skyrocketing into the blissful clouds of ecstasy with her unrelenting fingers.
Finally, when the roof had settled back down on our fantasyland fuckhouse, I weakly turned Sandra around and put her back on her feet. We kissed and licked each other's sugar-coated lips, tasting our own cumdrops as we fiercely hugged one another. And it wasn't the twelve days of Christmas I was looking forward to now, but rather the twelve nights.
THE END of "Big Tits Lesbians" STORY
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