Brenda’s tits flapped as I thrust into her, her arms wrapped around my neck. I lifted her legs, and looked down at my shaved cock slamming into her ...shen thatch. I could feel her juices flowing, glad of my choice of leather seats. She leant back, her head on the centre console, as I bucked into her, moving one hand to her clit and flicking the burgeoning nub in time to my thrusts. ‘How long?’ I asked her. She looked up, not understanding. ‘Since your husband…?’ ‘Four years.’ That spurred me on,. "What the fuck was that?" Richard asked, frightened.His answer came down the chimney in a flash and landed on the charred pile of wood that had been burning earlier. It was Santa. Red Coat, white beard, black boots yada yada yada.“You aren’t fucking real,” Richard muttered in absolute disbelief.Jennifer and Richard stood in front of Santa, dumbfounded.“Oh, I’m very real Richie boy. I’m real enough to eat your wife’s fresh baked cookies,” Santa responded taking a bite out of one of Jennifer’s. More

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