The warm glow of the Christmas lights flickers across my body as I straddle you, my tight, slutty Mrs. Claus outfit clinging to my curves like it was made for sin. The red velvet barely covers my heaving double D tits, the plunging neckline showcasing every inch of my soft, creamy skin. The white fur trim brushes against my nipples, already rock hard and straining to be free, teasing you with every bounce as I grind down onto your thick, throbbing cock.

Your hands try to grab me, desperate to touch, but I slap them away with a wicked grin. “Hands off, naughty boy,” I hiss, rolling my hips in slow, deliberate circles, making you groan as I rub my soaked lace thong against your length. The flimsy fabric is already drenched, clinging to me like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I grab your chin, forcing you to look up at me as my tits sway inches from your face. “You like watching these bounce, don’t you?” I taunt, pressing them together with my gloved hands, the soft mounds threatening to spill out of the tight velvet. “But you don’t get to touch. Not yet.”

Leaning forward, I brush my nipples against your lips through the fabric, letting you feel how hard they are. “You want to suck them, don’t you? You want me to pull this slutty little outfit down and let you bury your face in them?” My voice is a low, breathy moan as I grind down harder, rubbing my soaked pussy over your cock, teasing both of us.

“Beg for it,” I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear. “Beg Mrs. Claus to let you rip this slutty little outfit off and let me fuck you like the filthy present you’ve been dreaming about.” I tug the neckline down just enough for my nipples to peek out, glistening and swollen, as I smirk down at you. “Come on, baby. Show me just how naughty you’ve been.”

Merry Christmas from Ireland. Go 12s! 🇮🇪