Erotic Stories: Stacy is Santa’s Bad Girl - Unwrapped Just for You
- Dec 26, 2025
- 7 min read
This Erotic story is written with XXX Story AI Writer
The chimney draft swirls with the scent of pine and something far more intoxicating—vanilla and sin, the unmistakable perfume of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing when she slides down into your living room. My breath catches as two long, stocking-clad legs emerge first, the white fishnet garters glinting in the firelight. Then comes the rest of her: a crimson corset hugging curves so lush they make my mouth water, the swell of her tits threatening to spill over the stiff boning. Santa’s hat perches at a jaunty angle on her messy blonde waves, but the smirk on her full, glossed lips is anything but jolly.
“Hoe hoe fucking hoe,” Stacy purrs, rolling her hips as she steps fully into the room, her stiletto heels clicking against the hardwood. Her gaze rakes over me, slow and deliberate, like she’s already undressing me with those wicked green eyes. “You’ve been such a good boy this year, haven’t you? Santa sent me to… reward you.” The way she bites her lower lip, the way her tongue darts out to wet it after, has my cock twitching painfully against my sweatpants. I’m already hard, already aching, and she hasn’t even touched me yet.
She saunters closer, the fire casting flickering shadows over the smooth skin of her thighs where the stockings end. My pulse hammers in my throat as she stops just out of reach, trailing a fingernail—sharp, painted black—down the front of her corset. “Tell me, baby,” she murmurs, voice thick with promise, “do you like your presents wrapped… or unwrapped?” Before I can answer, she hooks that nail under the center clasp of the corset and rips it open with one sharp tug. The fabric parts like it’s nothing, and her tits spill free, heavy and perfect, nipples already tight little buds begging for my mouth.
I groan, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I want to grab her, to devour her, but something in the way she’s looking at me—like she owns me already—keeps me frozen in place. Stacy laughs, low and dirty, as she shimmies the corset the rest of the way off, letting it pool at her feet. “Such a polite boy,” she teases, stepping out of the puddle of fabric. Her fingers trace the waistband of her tiny red panties, the ones with the little white fur trim that’s fucking mocking me. “But I don’t think Santa wants you to be polite tonight, do you?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. With a slow, deliberate wiggle of her hips, she peels the her fishnet down her thighs, bending just enough to give me a flash of her glistening, bare pussy before she kicks them aside. My cock throbs, precome dampening the front of my pants as she straightens, completely naked now except for the stockings, the garters, the heels. And that hat. Fuck, that hat. She reaches up and adjusts it, her tits lifting with the movement, and then she’s on me, pressing me back against the couch with a force that steals my breath.
Her mouth crashes onto mine, hot and demanding, her tongue sweeping in to claim me. She tastes like peppermint and pure, filthy lust, her lips moving against mine with a hunger that has my head spinning. My hands finally find her, gripping her waist, her ass, anything, as she grinds against me, her bare pussy rubbing against my trapped cock through the fabric. She moans into my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Mmm, feel that?” she whispers, breaking the kiss just long enough to nip at my lower lip. “Feel how wet I am for you? All because you’ve been such a good little boy.”
I can’t take it anymore. With a growl, I flip her onto her back on the couch, her legs spreading automatically, welcoming me. Her pussy is dripping, pink and swollen, and the sight of it makes my vision blur. I drop to my knees in front of her, my hands sliding up her thighs, pushing them wider. “Fuck, Stacy,” I rasp, my breath hot against her inner thigh. “I’m gonna eat this pretty cunt until you scream Santa’s name.”
Her laughter is breathless, needy. “Promises, promises,” she gasps, but her hips lift, offering herself to me. I don’t make her wait. I dive in, my tongue dragging through her slick folds, lapping up her arousal like a man starved. She tastes sweet, intoxicating, and when I find her clit with the tip of my tongue, she bucks against my face with a cry. “Oh fuck—! Yes, just like that, baby, lick me—!”
The firelight flickers against Stacy’s crimson lips as she finally steps fully into the room, her curves wrapped in a skintight Santa’s helper outfit that’s more sin than saint. The corset cinches her waist obscenely, pushing her tits up like an offering, the white fur trim barely containing them. Her fingers trail down her own body, slow and deliberate, as her gaze locks onto the growing bulge in my pants.
“Mmm, someone’s been very good this year,” she purrs, sinking to her knees in front of me with a grace that makes my cock twitch. The heat of her breath seeps through the fabric of my sweatpants before she even touches me, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. “Let’s see just how good, huh?”
Her fingers hook into the waistband, tugging them down just enough for my throbbing cock to spring free, already leaking at the tip. She hums in approval, her palm wrapping around the base with a possessive squeeze. “Oh, baby, you’re thick,” she murmurs, stroking me once, twice, her thumb swiping over the slick bead of precome before bringing it to her lips. Her eyes never leave mine as she sucks her thumb clean, a slow, obscene pop sounding as she pulls it free. “And you taste so fucking sweet already.”
Then her mouth is on me, no teasing, no buildup—just wet, scorching heat enveloping the head of my cock in one greedy gulp. My hips jerk involuntarily, a groan tearing from my throat as her tongue swirls around the ridge, pressing against the sensitive underside. She moans around me, the vibration traveling straight to my balls, and I tangle my fingers in her hair, not to guide her, but to hold on—because holy fuck, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Her lips seal around me as she takes me deeper, her throat opening with practiced ease. I can feel the tip of my cock nudging the back of her mouth, her nose brushing against my pelvis as she swallows around me. “Fuck, Stacy—” The words come out choked, my thighs trembling. She pulls back just enough to lap at the head like it’s her favorite flavor, her free hand cupping my balls, rolling them gently before giving them a firm tug.
“You like that, don’t you?” she murmurs, her breath hot against my wet skin. “Like when I take you all the way down?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, diving back onto my cock with a filthy, sloppy sound. Her fingers dig into my ass, pulling me closer, forcing me deeper as she gags—just a little—but doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away. Instead, she hollows her cheeks, her throat fluttering around me as she swallows again, her eyes watering but locked onto mine, daring me to look away.
I can’t. I’m transfixed. The sight of her, lips stretched obscenely around my cock, mascara smudged just enough to make her look thoroughly debauched, is enough to make my vision blur. My grip in her hair tightens, not to control her, but to ground myself, because if she keeps this up, I’m not going to last. “Stacy, I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”
She pulls off with a wet pop, her hand flying to the base of my cock, squeezing just hard enough to stall me. “Not yet, you’re not,” she says, her voice rough, her lips swollen. She spits into her palm and strokes me fast, her grip tight and twisted just the way I like it. “You come when I say you come, got it?”
Before I can even process the command, her mouth is back on me, her tongue tracing the thick vein along the underside before she takes me to the root again. This time, her fingers slip between my legs, teasing at my entrance with a slick, insistent pressure. “Or…” she mumbles around my cock, “maybe I’ll just make you.”
The velvet heat of Stacy’s mouth envelops me completely, her lips sealed tight around the base of my cock as her throat flutters in a way that makes my hips jerk upward instinctively. She moans around me, the vibration traveling straight to my balls, and I tangle my fingers deeper into her hair—those perfect, candy-apple red curls that smell like cinnamon and something wicked. "Fuck, just like that, baby," I growl, my voice rough with need. "Take it all. Show me how bad you’ve been for Santa."
Her green eyes flick up to meet mine, mischief dancing in them even as her cheeks hollow out, creating that obscene suction that has my thighs trembling. She pulls back just enough to swirl her tongue around the crown, lapping up the pre-cum beading there before diving back down, her nose pressing against my skin. The wet, sloppy sounds of her working me over fill the room, mixing with the crackling of the fireplace and the jingle of the bell still attached to her collar—her fucking collar—that tinkles every time she bobs her head.
I can feel the orgasm coiling tight in my gut, my balls drawing up, and I warn her with a guttural, "Stacy, I’m—" but she doesn’t let up. Instead, she hums, the sound vibrating through my cock, and her fingers dig into my thighs, nails biting into the fabric of my pajama pants. "Mmmph," she murmurs, the word muffled but unmistakable: "Give it to me."
That’s all it takes.
With a groan that rips from my chest, I come hard, my cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum hit the back of her throat. Stacy doesn’t even flinch. She swallows around me, her throat working in time with each spurt, milking me dry. Her lips stay locked in a perfect seal, not a single drop escaping, and when I finally slump back against the couch, spent and breathing hard, she pulls off with a wet pop, licking her glossy lips like she’s savoring the last taste of something decadent.
"Mmm," she purrs, crawling up my body until her tits press against my chest, the fur trim of her bustier tickling my skin. "Santa’s gonna be so jealous when I tell him how good you taste."
Her fingers trace my bottom lip, still slick from where she’s been, and she leans in close enough that I can feel her breath, warm and spiced with peppermint. "But I think you’ve got more in you, don’t you? Or do I need to sit on your lap and ask Santa for another present?"
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