"I don't know why I agreed to this. This line is ridiculous," Amanda grumbled as her six-year-old tugged at her arm, squirming to break free.

"Oh, quit your bitching. Its only been ten minutes," Beth snarked, taking a long sip through the candy cane-striped straw poking out of her bright pink Stanley cup. "Language, ladies!" the man beside them scolded, shielding his son's ears. "Suck a Dick!" Beth hurled back at him, garnering additional scornful looks from the other parents packed between the rope barriers in the mall's food court.

The line inched forward as the two women gabbed, trading gossip with the ease of lifelong friends. Eventually, they found themselves encircled by the exaggerated, tinsel-drenched decor of the makeshift winter wonderland, its artificial charm diminished by the harsh glow of the mall's fluorescent lighting.

Beth locked her arm around Amanda's elbow and directed her gaze toward the oversized chair in front of the poorly constructed melamine gingerbread house. "That Santa can unwrap me for Christmas!" Beth murmured before taking a long sip from her straw and shoving her cup into Amanda's chest. "I'll take my sweet little nephew over to meet Santa. You stay here and get a few pictures," Beth clamored as she scurried over to the Santa, practically dragging Amanda's son in tow. As Amanda snapped pictures with her phone, she couldn't help but admit that this year's Santa was very attractive, even though she didn't have the time or the energy to pine over men anymore.

The rest of Amanda's day flew by. She swung by the grocery store, picked up the gifts for the toy drive she organized, and capped off her day with dinner and a bath for David. The sun had long since set by the time she could slip into her nightgown, pour a large glass of white bordeaux, and plop down in front of her computer.

She'd fallen into the habit of prying into her ex-husband's life through the incessant social media posts of his young fiancée, a guilty ritual she couldn't resist. Her ex-husband Jerry had cited her "lack of sexual availability" in the divorce papers he handed her the day after Christmas last year, conveniently omitting that he'd been fucking his secretary for months. The divorce was swift and amicable. She got the house and half of a multimillion-dollar portfolio he had accrued while neglecting his family, and he got his freedom and the young harlot.  

The two were in Cabo enjoying the quote "inmaculet" sunsets, according to the latest post on the homewrecker's feed. She giggled as she haphazardly reached for her glass of wine. The iPhone sitting next to her glass suddenly vibrated on the desk, startling her and causing her to knock over the glass, spilling wine across the desk.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she scurried to grab the phone before the spreading pool of wine could reach it.

"Hey, it's Santa." The text was from an unknown number.

"Wrong number." She responded, annoyed as she went to the kitchen to grab a towel.

"I have a Christmas list here with this number scribbled on the bottom."

Her mind mulled over the last message as she returned to her desk, wiping up the wine with growing irritation at the unexpected intrusion. As she tossed the damp cloth aside, fragments of the day's events drifted back to her, the trip to the mall, the winter wonderland, and the realization of what had transpired entered her mind.

"This is embarrassing. My son's class has been learning their phone numbers. He must have written it on his Christmas list. You are probably looking for my friend."

"The vulgar handsy one? Hard pass. I'd much rather get to know the beautiful woman she came with."

"Nice Try, I don't trust strange men who text phone numbers little boys give to them."

"That's fair, but in my defense, I thought it was a machination by you to give me your number."

"Machination, nice word choice"

"What can I say... Santa is studying for his doctorate."

"Hmm, seems a bit too much like a cheesy Hallmark character to be plausible."

"Look me up if you don't believe me."

"I already did. Santa comes up with too many results."

"Okay, I'll tell you my identity but you must keep it secret. There are alot of people who would do or pay anything to know Santa's real identity."

"Don't worry Santa I will keep your secret safe."

"@DogDaddyDerek"

Amanda mouthed each letter as she typed his Instagram handle into the search bar. "Oh my," she murmured as she was greeted by the warm, inviting smile of a handsome younger man holding a puppy up to his face. Post by post, the stranger's identity was gradually revealed, each image offering a glimpse into a life both intriguing and unexpectedly charming. Her initial irritation melted into curiosity. Curiosity deepened into intrigue. And intrigue slowly blossomed into wonderment.

The steady stream of typing dots had ceased. As Amanda stared down at her phone, she exhaled and began to think clearly again. She should mute her phone, turn off her computer, and go to sleep. He was a total stranger, and his online persona could very well be the well-crafted disguise of a perverted creep or, worse, a serial killer, she thought as she closed the browse tab along with the one displaying her ex-husband and his young lover smiling while sipping overpriced, watered-down resort piña coladas. Perhaps it was the spite and envy the picture imbrewed within her or, perchance, her loneliness. Regardless of the exact reason, she found her fingers betraying her sensibilities as she typed.  

"I looked into your supposed secret identity."

After a minute of bated breath, the typing dots reappeared, flooding her with a rush of excitement that eclipsed her lingering apprehensions.

"Sorry, the elves got a bit out of line."

"Elves?"

"Oh my dogs needed to go outside. So you checked your lists?"

"You could say that," She texted back as she glided back into the kitchen for more wine.

"So, which list am I going to find your name on? Naughty or Nice," he retorted quickly.

"Hmmm, I think I could guess which one you wish it was on."

"Your profile is pretty much empty so I don't know yet. Maybe I should try Pintrest or probably Tumblr?"

She scoft playfully as she read the message, knowing she had both sites open in the browser currently.

As their banter flowed, his replies remained effortlessly charismatic and charming, enticing her further into his magnetic allure. His subtle, seductive teases and clever quips gradually eroded her reservations and stripped away her inhibitions. The conversation shifted seamlessly from playful to flirtatious, then edged into something undeniably risqué.

"Do you want Santa to cum down your chimney?" Amanda reread the text, her heart racing as she realized their playful jesting had taken a provocative turn toward a proposition she found herself inclined to accept.

Her fingers fumbled to type, "Only if Santa will frost these cookies."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Yes"

Her heart fluttered as the message appeared in the text thread. A bold confession cloaked in simplicity that exposed her quiet longing to be embraced again.

"Your place?"

"1506 Nightingale St"

"OMW beautiful."

Amanda put her phone down on the kitchen island and turned off the overhead kitchen lights. The large kitchen was now dimly illuminated by the under-cabinet lighting. She returned to the kitchen island and perched herself upon it, crossing her legs to lessen the feeling of excitement and anticipation that smoldered within her loins. Her nightgown felt tight and restrictive against her breast. As Amanda's heart raced, her eyes occasionally drifted to the black mirrored screen of her phone.

Every time she felt the overwhelming urge to grab her phone and type, "I can't do this. Don't come," she clenched her fists, resisting the pull of doubt. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, pressing against her sensitive, taut nipples. Each incidental brush sent a tingle shooting down her chest, spiraling deep into her abdomen, igniting a desire she could no longer repress.

Each moment stretched agonizingly as her arousal deepened, her mind inundating her with vivid fantasies of what might come next. The glowing numbers on the oven clock, 12:04 am, taunted her. The sudden buzz of her iPhone vibrating against the hard marble sent a jolt through her already electrified body.

"I'm outside," the message read.

"Come to the back door and be quiet." She could hardly type as her hands shook.

Moments later, the dark silhouette of a man filled her kitchen door window. Through the faint glow of the light, she could narrowly make out the familiar outline of a man in a Santa suit.

She raised her finger to her lips, signaling him to be silent as he entered.

He stepped inside, moving with quiet purpose, his gaze locked on hers. Before Amanda could speak, he was standing before her. His hands locked on her knees and slid her legs apart. His presence dominated the space between them, and she could feel his warm breath against her neck as she looked up into his hazel-green eyes. His smile finished the job of disarming her, and as he leaned in to kiss her, she met his lips.

As their kiss deepened and she felt his tongue dance gracefully with hers, he flung the oversized coat open. Her hands glided up his chest to his shoulder, sliding under the coat, causing it to tumble to the floor.

His attention lingered on her neck as her hands roamed freely across his body. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles over the soft, sensitive skin just below her ear, each movement punctuated by deft teasing nibbles at her flesh.

Her hands intrinsically mimicked his tongue's movement in choreographed motions along his bare chest. He had the body of an athlete. Each place her hand ventured to touch him was firm. Her fingers could trace the defined structure of his muscles. It had been years since she had felt the feeling of a man's skin against her fingertips.

His breath rippled over her skin and cascaded down the curve of her back, sending shivers through her spine and forcing her to arch forward, seeking a reprieve from the unbearable pleasure it ignited. Their bodies filled the void between them, causing her aroused nipples to press against his firm chest through the thin, sheer fabric of her nightgown.

A deep, aching throb radiated from her abdomen, the tension coiling tight as swells of desire overtook her. Lust burned through her, fierce and consuming, leaving only a hollow ache, an unbearable emptiness that begged to be filled. She craved him, her body instinctively yearning for him to penetrate her deep within her core.

His lips found hers again, their tongues intertwined deep, continuing their passionate dance. Amanda's fingers traced the robust ridges of his toned abs, drifting lower with deliberate curiosity towards the waistband of the oversized felt costume pants.

Her hand met the tip of his member much sooner than she expected. He was already stiff and unyielding, his length straining against the fabric. Her fingers traced the pronounced tip, curling instinctively around him, feeling the undeniable firmness beneath her touch.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder as her fingers continued slowly down his length, sliding between the soft felt fabric and his thick shaft. With each inch Amanda explored, she expected to reach the base, but instead, she was met with more of his immense and uncompromising masculinity, extending farther than she had anticipated. At last, her fingers discovered the base, only to be met by the heavy warmth of his robust, inviting balls that enveloped her palm as she took them in her hand.

She grasped the loose fabric of his pants, tugging it downward, freeing him from the constraints and allowing her to watch as her hand traversed back up the improbable length of his shaft. When she reached the tip, her fingertips wrapped around it again, squeezing and teasing it with a firm touch.

"I want to taste you," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. The words pierced deep into her like burning embers, igniting every nerve. Her body coiled, a sharp exhale deflated her chest, and his manhood slipped from her quivering grasp.

She watched as he slowly descended beneath her. Driven by instinct and overwhelmed by anticipation, she snatched his Santa hat from his head, shoving it into her mouth in a frantic attempt to muffle the anguished moans that would soon escape her. Before his tongue could contact her wet, aching lips, the hot shower of his breath against her delicate, unfurled flesh and her swollen nub had become too much to bear. Unable to endure the overwhelming sensation, she tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged his head away, gasping for control she no longer possessed.

Determined, he closed the remaining distance with ease, unfazed by her clenched hands, rendering her resistance futile. His tongue resumed its slow, deliberate dance, tracing her delicate lips and circling her throbbing nub with maddening precision. She bit down hard on the soft fabric in her mouth, stifling the moans that threatened to spill forth.

Desperate for relief, she pressed his face against her, hoping to lessen the effectiveness of his tongue. Yet, the unrelenting waves of sensation only intensified. Her legs clenched tightly against the rough skin of his cheeks as the orgasm overtook her. The pulses crashed over her like storm-driven waves against a rocky shore, relentless and consuming. With the last shred of strength she could summon, she tugged at him desperately. He relented, rising slowly to meet her gaze, watching her body tremble and convulse with raw, unrestrained ecstasy.

Under the dim light, she caught the glistening sheen of her juices shimmering on his lips as she guided his cock to her entrance. He removed the Santa hat and leaned in, locking her mouth in a deep, searing kiss, inundating her with her own intoxicating taste as he thrust into her.

The stretch of her tight, yielding entrance as his girth pressed inside sent a sharp sting through her, evoking an involuntary whimper. She clung to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he pushed deeper, his staff pressing firmly against her inner walls, forcing them to accommodate his demanding presence. Her opening welcomed the menagerie of pain and pleasure every inch claimed with relentless intensity.

As her body gradually adjusted to his size, the initial sting faded, leaving only the unbridled pleasure in its sted. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, drawing him closer, demanding everything he had to give.

"Harder," she moaned between ragged, labored breaths, her voice trembling with urgency. He obeyed without hesitation, driving into her with smooth, deliberate thrusts, firm but unhurried, ensuring she felt every molecule of him as he claimed her completely. His flawless rhythm sent his body crashing into hers, each withdrawal amplifying the cascading need to be penetrated, each deep return sending crashing waves of pleasure through her.

"Cum inside me," she pleaded, her voice splintering as her stomach clenched, relinquishing control over her body to the overwhelming ecstasy radiating through her from the cavity he was ravaging. The unrelenting sensations shot down her limbs, igniting every nerve with electric intensity, leaving her trembling and hypersensitive to every touch. Even the contact with the marble countertop against her backside seemed too much to bear.

Her legs went numb and dropped from his waist, hanging to either side of him. She felt her body begin to fail her as his member began to pulsate inside of her. He gave her one last forceful thrust, planting his manhood deep inside. Her walls clenched tightly around his girth, holding him deep within her. She could feel the tip against her deepest recesses as each eruption coursed through his length as he exploded, filling the space left unclaimed inside her.

Exhausted and out of breath, she fell back onto the cold marble of the kitchen island as he withdrew from her. She felt the warmth of his release coating her inner walls, slowly trickling toward her entrance, leaving a lingering heat that soothed the subtle spasms that persisted in his absence. Speechless, she lay still, staring at the ceiling. He quietly got dressed just out of her view. She heard him go into the fridge and the rustle of a bottle of water opening. The familiar artificial shutter sound of an iPhone compelled her to muster her strength and rise up on her elbows. As she did, Santa was fully clothed and in the doorway. With a cookie in one hand, he raised the other and pressed a single finger to his lip as she had to him when he arrived. He quietly exited, and his silhouette faded into the night.

She exhaled prolonged, satiated breaths as her mind tried to process what had just occurred when her phone buzzed beside her. She looked over to see its screen illuminated next to an unopened bottle of water. She reached across her body and raised the phone up to her face.

"XoXo, Santa," the message read, followed by a daring photo of the man flashing a wicked smile, proudly on full, unabashed display.

Amanda and Beth sat the following day, sipping coffee and wrapping gifts. Amanda was trying her hardest to hide the excitement she still felt coursing through her. As she adjusted the scarf covering the marks on her neck, her son ran into the room and went directly to Beth. "Aunt Beth! Guess what! I saw Santa leaving last night. I told you the Santa at the mall was the real one!" Beth looked over at Amanda's bright red cheeks, amplified by her post-romp glow. Amanda let a coy, slender smile curl on her face.

"What? Santa came early this year!"