Dearest Santa,
I’m not the little girl who once left a glass of milk and red velvet cake on the table next to the tree. Surely you remember the thick slices slathered in cream cheese icing. By the way, the sprinkle of chopped pecans was my responsibility. But you never ate more than a bite or two, and the worry that you may not have been pleased was unsettling. There was a time when I wondered if you knew I spent half of the night on my knees at my bedroom window, staring at the sky hoping to catch a glimpse of you in your sleigh. But you’re Santa Claus. You know everything.
The wide-eyed child who wrote a detailed Christmas list on a yellow legal pad, complete with page numbers from the Sears and JCPenney catalogs is gone. I’m all grown up now and she’s a mere memory of days long ago. It’s about more than being an adult though. It’s about evolution. I’m not the same person I was twenty-five, okay fine, thirty-five years ago. Hell, I’m not even the same person I was ten months ago. I’ve unfolded in a way I never expected. ‘Sir’ no longer rolls off my tongue, and I’m up off my knees. I’m on top now, Santa. It’s where I belong.
My wishes aren’t complicated. They’re straightforward, and few. You may see them as unthinkable, and well, you probably won’t approve. Your lap is no longer appealing, but your face I intend to use. You’ll be mine to play with; my fuck toy, my boy. Your thoughts will wander to my strap-on, to my taste, and to my scent. You’ll close your eyes and imagine it, remember it, and want it. But it’s really not about what you want, now is it? So let’s start with this:
- a La Femme strap-on harness, because ruffles, and pink bows.
- a curved steel anal plug with a ring on the end for um, steering. One with a sizable head, and a secondary bulge. Heh, bulge. Just thinking about this one makes me all gooey inside, because like a slinky, it’s fun for a girl or a boy. Okay, not like a slinky at all.
- a toy box with a lock. I think my track record of toy discovery mishaps speaks for itself.
- sexy thigh high stockings with little bows on the back, because I’m all girly and shit.
- a ‘how to’ book on giving Golden Showers. I need it, obviously.
- a ________ ______ for my boyfriend. I know it’s not for me per se, but I really want one. The anticipation of the surprise is making him a little nervous, but I’ve assured him it will be worth the wait.
I think you can agree, boy, that I’m not unrealistic in my requests. What I want from you is fair, and I won’t take anything you don’t want to give. It’s unlikely a safeword will be needed, but let’s play by the rules and go with ‘red.’ I’ll respect you, but I’ll use you. And I promise you will beg.
If Santa dies from a heart attack reading this, then I’m applying for the job!
Perhaps a working interview will be required.
Oh. My. Goodness.
1) I love you hard.
2) Never have I ever fantasized about Santa in a sexual situation. I am now…begging and crying included.
3) I hope you really get all those things. Especially the ______ ______ for your boyfriend, and the lockable box, for your daughter’s sake.
Lots, and lots of boob smooshes!