It was my annual work Christmas celebration. Always a good time, nice to leave the constraints of the workplace behind and lighten up the pace a bit.
A surprise visit from Santa had everyone questioning who had set it up and who the man behind the beard was. During all the chatter and drinking, each woman took their turn sitting on Santa's lap. I was last to take my place and give my run down of my list and the confirmation of my niceness, not forgetting to also touch upon a bit of my naughtiness. After all, there's no fooling Santa; I had to come clean.
By that time, most of the group was spread throughout the house, continuing their own conversations and not paying much attention to what was being shared with the main guest. My husband escorted me over to Santa and remarked to him, that he "thought I had been a pretty good girl" and for him to ensure I got all that I asked for; little did he know. Another party goer then summoned him into a conversation and he was on his way leaving me alone to speak freely.
As I warmly greeted Santa, I wrapped my arm around his neck and sat on his inviting lap. I was well aware of the amount of cleavage I was showing and how my already non-conservative skirt length had risen dangerously farther up than it should have. The top of my thigh highs and then some were clearly being exhibited, my sexy high heels nicely finished the look. I figured since I was about to share some racy details about the year, that what the special guest was viewing would pale in comparison.
"So Karen, have you indeed been a good girl?
Impressed, but then rationalizing that Santa really should know my name, I gave a hesitant, "Yes...for the most part." answer. I blushed when asked to elaborate. Hmmm, the thoughts of being overheard raced through my mind so I whispered to Santa "Although I'm quite comfortable on your lap, I think it would be best if I shared the details of my naughtiness with you somewhere a little more private."
If I'm completely honest, the thoughts of what I was about to share was making me moist and since I was pantyless, I also feared leaving a telltale sign on Santa's red velvet bottoms. What would Mrs. Claus say?
Santa nodded to my suggestion and we agreed to meet upstairs in a few minutes time. As he made a silent exit, I joined the others, chatted for a bit, freshened my drink and took the liberty of making a strong one for the man about to hear my story - I figured he would need it. As I made my way up the stairs, I had to admit I was excited that I would finally be sharing my secret. There was also no denying how wet my pussy was becoming.
When I entered the room, Santa looked at home in a big comfy chair and immediately motioned for me to take my place back on his lap. I caught my breath and happily obliged. Passing him his drink, I held my glass up to his and made a toast to the tireless work he did, after-all, hearing confessions such as mine is no easy task, and I extended my toast to include good girls gone slightly bad.
"So...?", Santa questioned. I finished my liquid courage and began my confession, ensuring my way from the nice list to the sinful naughty list. "There's another man in my life and I'm crazy about him. I know how wrong that is, but he makes me so happy. I don't understand how something so good can be so bad." I went on to explain all the joy this man, with whom I fell in love with, brought to my life.
After intently listening, Santa nodded and surprised me when he acknowledged my feelings and simply shrugged when he said "Sometimes things in life happen like that and there's no explaining why."
I thought maybe I'd gotten myself off the bad girl list before I had even gotten on it! However, the questioning didn't end there. The main man wanted to delve deeper, as he enquired "What really makes you naughty?"
If I hadn't noticed Santa staring a little longer than he should have at the generous amount of bosom I was showing, felt his hands higher up my leg than they should have been, and even detected some hardness against my thigh, I would have left it at what I had already divulged. It was apparent that he wanted details of a sexual nature.
"Santa, are you asking me to be explicit? Do you want specific details?" I erred on the side of caution as I was suddenly uncharacteristically shy and wanted to ensure Santa was prepared for my admission of guilty pleasures.
"I don't think loving somebody makes you naughty, Karen." "But Santa, I am married and I have to mention, the special man in my life is as well." "So, it's strictly an emotional relationship?" he queried.
Aware that my reddening cheeks were answering his question, I completely let my guard down. "No, it's also a very sexually charged relationship. One that pleases us both and leaves us wanting more."
