The Gift of Being Wrong

"You probably think I'm too old for you."

I paused to consider. The fact was: he was too old for me. He was more than twice my age. I had dated men a little older than me, but I usually stuck with men under thirty. There was also the fact that Aaron was the Santa Claus at the mall where I manage a department store, and while he looked decidedly different, and more attractive, when he was out of his costume, I still couldn't bring myself to go on a date with Santa.

"A little yes. I mean, you could be my dad."

The instant I said it, I knew I had hurt his feelings. He laughed, a sad kind of resigned laugh, but I knew he got my point. "I'm not, though, am I?" His voice was low and husky. Something in my stomach flipped, and the thought crossed my mind that his voice probably sounded like that when he woke up in the morning.

"No, you're not. But you know, I just can't imagine dating Santa."

"Well, that's that then. I'll just admire you from afar," he said and offered another unconvincing laugh. I watched as he put his beard and hat back on and began to walk away. He was an attractive man, who easily could have passed for forty instead of over fifty; he was in great shape, made me laugh everyday when we took our evening break together, and had a great way with the kids at the mall. I enjoyed flirting with him in a casual way, but, still, he wasn't my type, so I dismissed the idea and went back to working on my merchandising plan.

* * *

Christmas Eve is always the worst day at the mall. Well, except for maybe the day after Christmas, which is the one day a year when I reconsider having a job in retail. I had let most of the staff go at noon while I finished out the day; I was the only manager without family, and while I hated to be there so late on Christmas Eve, I knew my employees with kids deserved to be home more than I did.

As I locked the door to the store office, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and saw Aaron, dressed in his street clothes, walking toward me. He looked determined, serious, very much unlike the usual smiling face I saw during his shifts as Santa. I realized that I didn't know if he had family, if he was irritated to be at work instead of with his kids, or maybe even his grandkids. I smiled as he approached, but his demeanor didn't change, and I immediately wondered what must be wrong to set his jaw so seriously.

I watched him approach until he was only inches from where I stood in front of my door, the keys still dangling in the lock. "Merry Christmas," he said softly, a rough edge to his voice. And then suddenly he was kissing me with such force, such power, that he pinned my body between him and the door.

At first, I didn't respond, too confused, too surprised, to react. And then his mouth changed, softened, and I felt myself go limp. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed me that way. Intent on pushing him away, I lifted my arms and put them on his shoulders, but his mouth continued to explore mine, and without being conscious of what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me.

He moved his face back enough to look at me, his eyes dark and hard. "I'm teaching you a lesson tonight. For your Christmas present." And then he kissed me again. His words echoed in my head, and this time when I put my hands against his shoulders, I did push him away.

"What are you talking about? You're teaching me a lesson? I don't like the way that sounds."

"Too bad."

"Aaron? You're a little scary right now."

"Am I?" He said, smiling a wicked grin. His hand trailed along my side, down my ribs, and I felt goose bumps raise beneath his hand.

"Yes, you are. Please move so I can go home."

"I don't think so. I have to give you your present."

"No. No, you don't."

"Oh, but I do. You think I'm old, a jolly Santa Claus. I'm going to show you that there's more to me."

"I know you're more than that, but I'm not interested. I've told you."

"But I don't believe you."

"That's pretty arrogant."

"It's the truth. You want me. You've just been talking yourself out of it because you're afraid of how it would look."

"That's bullshit."

"Is it?" he asked, the wicked grin returning. He shifted away from me a few inches. His hand gripped my arm, while his other hand slid up between my legs and beneath my skirt. Before I could move to block him, I felt a finger pull aside my thong and push into my pussy.

"Just as I expected. You're wet."

I was embarrassed by my body's betrayal. "So, that doesn't mean anything. I'm not interested in you."

He removed his finger and brought it to his mouth. Just when I thought he would lick the juices from his finger, he hesitated and then brought the finger to my lips. I could smell my scent on him as he gently rubbed the moisture onto my bottom lip.

He leaned toward me and kissed me again, sucking the lip he had just touched into his mouth. I fought back a moan. His gall was offensive, but it aroused me. I struggled, half-heartedly, to get away, but his hands held me in place against the door.

"I'm going to show you what it's like to fuck a man with experience. Then you can tell me if you're interested." He whispered in my ear.

I tried to push him away. "I'm not having sex with you."

"Oh, but you are. And you're going to like it. We're going to go into your office, and I'm going to taste your sweet cunt. I'm going to bend you over the desk and fuck you until you scream. I'm going to make you come so many times you'll beg me to stop."

He bit my ear, and his words, oh his words, made it very hard for me to resist him. I hadn't had sex in months, and sometimes at night I fantasized about the things he was saying while I masturbated. I wanted so badly to agree, but still I told him, "No."

"Open the door. Just open the door, and I'll take care of the rest. You can tell me no if it makes you feel better. All you have to do is open the door."

I realized then that he was giving me a way to blame him later, a way of accepting without having to tell him that I wanted him. I hesitated. He didn't look like Santa Claus anymore. He looked like a man who needed and wanted a good fuck. And I felt like a woman who wanted exactly the same thing. I turned around, my hands shaking, and opened my office door.

I felt his presence behind me, the power of his large body overwhelming in the small office space. Before I could turn, he shut the door and locked it. I stopped, the sound of the lock so final, and I began to wonder if being alone with a man who so obviously enjoyed taking what he wanted was such a good idea.

"Aaron, I don't think..."

His hands unzipping my skirt stopped my words and kept me from turning toward him. I didn't know what to say. I wanted him, but I didn't. I wanted everything he said, but sanity made me question the risk. He slipped the skirt down my legs, revealing my black thong and black garter and stockings. He whistled.

"Damn woman. I just knew you were a slut underneath your nice business suits."

"Did you?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"Of course. Why else would I be here?"

"Because you can't take no for an answer."

He chuckled. "That too."

He lifted my sweater up over my head. "Turn around. I want to see your breasts when I take this bra off."

I obeyed him, not sure why I wanted to please him.

He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, and my breasts fell free. "Beautiful," he said, his voice husky with desire. My nipples hardened as he gazed at them, and he chuckled to himself.

He leaned down and gently bit down on my nipple, and I gasped. He laughed, and sucked the nipple into his mouth, soothing the pain his teeth had left. To fight the urge to grab his head and hold him against my breast, I balled my hands into fists at my sides. He kissed down the slope of my breast and then made his way to the other nipple, biting down slightly harder this time. I moaned, and I could feel the shape of his smile against my breast.

While he sucked the nipple into his mouth, he slid his hands down my ribs, to my hips, and then quickly slipped my thong off my hips and onto the floor. I stood before him in nothing but a garter belt, stockings, and stiletto heels.

"Beautiful," he said again, his breath against my nipple. I felt his lips move away from my breast and I looked down to see him gazing at my shaved pussy. He kissed his way down my abdomen, nipping occasionally, as he made his way to my pubic mound.

He looked up at me, and saw me watching him intently. He laughed. "Sit in the chair over there and spread your legs."

I hesitated a fraction of a second. "Or I can just bend you over the desk now. But I'd really rather eat your gorgeous pussy before I fuck it."

I moved over to the chair, conscious of his eyes on my ass. I sat down carefully, but couldn't bring myself to spread my legs for him. He laughed again, and kneeled before me. He put a hand on each knee and pushed my legs open. Then he reached underneath and pulled my ass to the edge of the chair. "We're going to have to work on the way you follow instructions."

Offended, I tried to close my legs again, but he was already between them. Bending down, he licked, long and slow, along my labia. "Relax," he breathed against me. To punctuate his words, he sucked my labia into his mouth. Hard. I moaned and gripped the chair as hard as I could. He continued to suck and lick, his rhythm changing, never allowing me to come. I knew he was toying with me, but I also knew I had already given up any power to stop him.

He used his fingers to open my labia, and gently, slowly, he pressed his tongue against my clit. With his other hand, he slid a finger into my dripping pussy. "Come," he said. And for reasons I didn't understand, I did, my hips lifting beneath his mouth as I tried, desperately, to press my clit harder against his face. His mouth and fingers never slowed, never paused.

"You're being a good girl now," he whispered. "Come again."

"I never..."

"Come again," he repeated, more insistently, and then he set to work using his mouth on my clit again. He slid a second finger into my pussy, fucking me with his hand as his tongue played on the nub of my clitoris. Without realizing I was ready, another orgasm broke through me, and my hands flew to Aaron's head, pressing his face against me, holding him to me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had more than one orgasm, and that Aaron had so easily given me two surprised me.

I felt the vibration of his laugh against my cunt, but I didn't care. My body was on fire, trembling from the orgasm, and already craving another. Aaron must have sensed that because he bent his fingers slightly, and I knew he was searching for my Gspot, something that, for me, had always been elusive.

"I never..."

"Relax," he said and then returned his mouth to me. I could feel his fingers, rough inside me. For a brief moment, I was reminded of the poking and prodding of a doctor's visit, and then I felt a rush of pleasure, and I realized he had found it. The pressure increased, and he pulled his mouth away just as I began to scream.

"Oooooooh God." My hips were now lifting of their own volition, my pubic bone grinding against his hand, my pussy gripping his fingers. The orgasm continued, or stopped and started again, I'm not sure. It consumed me. The pleasure ripped through my body, and I felt like I would burst from it.

He never slowed his fingers, but continued on, as my screams turned to whimpers. "Please, please...

"What is it, love?" he whispered.

"No more."

"Why not, love?"

My voice was nearly a whisper when I said, "I need you inside me," but he heard me and I couldn't bring myself to look at his satisfied smile. His fingers slowed and then stopped, and he leaned toward me, kissing me gently. I could taste myself on him, and without realizing it, I deepened the kiss, holding his face to mine.

"I've never..."

"I know," he said. He pulled back from me, and stood up. I realized he was undressing, and while I wanted to be detached from the situation, I couldn't. Not after the gift he had just given me. So, I watched him undress. His shirt fell to the ground and I saw, with surprise, a very fit, very muscular chest and abdomen. I smiled, slightly, in appreciation. He saw me, but remained quiet as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants slide to the floor. My eyes widened at his very hard, and unexpectedly large, cock.

"I think it's time for you to get up and lean over that desk."

Instead of denying him, instead of resisting as I had told myself I would, I made my way to the desk. With a smile. I stopped in front of him, and he ran his hands down my body, caressing my breasts and hips and finally my pussy. "Bend over."

I leaned across the desk, my breasts pressed hard against the wood. Aaron's hands ran along my hips and ass, and I could almost feel his admiration for my body. And then I felt a sharp smack as his hand landed on my ass.

Another smack.

I squirmed against the desk. I was shocked that he would dare spank me. But even more, I was aroused, craving his cock, wanting to feel him push into me.

Maybe he sensed my need, or merely needed his own release, but I felt him against me, the hard point of his cock against my opening.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No." I trembled, trying to push myself back onto his cock, but he resisted.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Oh, please," I whimpered, ashamed of my need and my weakness, but so desperate for him inside me that I couldn't restrain myself.

He thrust into me, deeply, without warning, until I could feel him fully inside of me. My pussy stretched to accommodate his size, and I felt a sting of pain at the sudden intrusion. He held still inside me, and then, just as he slid out, another slap of his hand across my ass.

He thrust into me again, and again spanked me as he pulled out. Over and over, I felt the quick push in, and the slow slide out, accompanied by the smack of his hand. I began to moan, to cry out. My words were indistinguishable, until I began to beg, "Please Aaron."

He gripped my hip with one hand, and reached underneath me with his other hand to find my clit, and finally, finally, his rhythm was a steady in and out. My hips pushed back against him, my pussy swallowing his length, as our bodies rocked against each other. I came again, once, twice, three times. His pace slowed each time for my recovery and then continued, until he quickened, and I sensed that he needed to come.

He pulled out, and I gasped at the emptiness, wondering why he would pull out seconds before his release. I felt him moving away from me, and I trembled at the idea he would leave me in such a position at such a moment. Suddenly, his cock was in front of me, and I realized he had circled the desk. Knowing what he wanted, I smiled.

Aaron slid his fingers into my hair and gently pulled my head up; I opened my mouth eagerly, and he slowly slid his cock into my mouth. I could taste myself on him, and the scent was nearly overwhelming. I held his cock in my mouth snugly as he rocked in and out, fucking my mouth. My tongue played along his shaft, and he moaned with each thrust. His fingers tightened in my hair, but I didn't care. I wanted him to come. I wanted the power of making him come after all that he had done to me. It didn't matter to me that he set the pace, that he was in control of my mouth. I only wanted him to come.

Just as I felt his body tighten and sensed the arrival of his orgasm, he pulled out again with a groan. I looked up confused, just as his come spurted out and onto my cheek and shoulder, trickling down and onto my chest and onto the desk. I was insulted, and yet, I was aroused, seeing the drip and witnessing the evidence of his arousal. Aaron's fingers loosened in my hair and I could hear his labored breathing. We stayed that way for several minutes, neither of us certain what to do next. I felt Aaron pull away, and I looked at him, watching for his reaction to what had happened.

"Aaron," I began.

"I...." He started, concern obvious in his voice.

"Aaron," I interrupted. "I was wrong."

He had obviously expected a rebuke and stood looking down at me, uncertain.

"I was wrong about you."

A slow smile crept across his face.

"You're not too old for me."

His smiled widened.

"And I don't think of you as Santa anymore either."

He laughed. "Well, then, does that mean you want to know what Santa's got in his bag for you this year."

I laughed with him. "Of course. Especially if it's something naughty."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Aaron. Now take me home."