As I got older, all my friends stopped believing in Santa, but not me. I kept my belief secret from my friends. They would just tease me and spoil my faith.When I was eleven, I went through puberty. My mother sat me down and spelled out the “Facts of Life”. I learned how babies were made. The only man I wanted to be my mate was Santa.While other girls were dating boys, I kept to myself, making toys. I would fantasize about the big man taking my virginity under the small Christmas tree my father scraped together to buy each year. I would come so hard, I had to bury my face in my pillow, so my parents would not hear.On Christmas Eve, I would drink coffee, to stay up and see Santa. But it didn’t help. I still fell asleep before he arrived. I realized that Santa was not ready to see me yet. I had to trust that he would let me see him when he was ready.On the eve of my sixteenth birthday, I kept my usual vigil in the living room. I always decorated it extra special, with ornaments I had. She had a taut, boyish body with slim hips, firm young tits the size of nice Florida oranges and a completely shaven pussy. She fucked herself with her fingers, cupping and rubbing her pussy as she did so. Donna matched her movement for movement, now probing her own hole with two fingers and gently rubbing her clit with the other hand. Despite the steam, my dick began to swell and climb up my belly. As the redhead began to play with her clit her legs tensed and her body went taut. Her tits were squeezed up between her arms as she pleasured herself. Next to me, Donna was also tense as her orgasm approached, her legs stretched and her large tits pressed together. I wanted desperately to stroke my throbbing dick, but didnt want to distract the girls from their circle jerk. Donnas breathing grew deep and rhythmic and she moaned as she began to climax. Across the way, the beautiful redhead was also about to climax, panting and whimpering under her own ministrations. Simultaneously, they.
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