Milk and Cookies for Santa

Story Info
Daughter discovers some traditions are too dear to give up!
13k words
4.65
245.3k
301
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Ahabscribe
Ahabscribe
10,453 Followers

Here's my annual Christmas story...as usual a few months late! Oh well, helps keep that Christmas spirit alive!

Hope you enjoy - please let me know your thoughts on this story, both pro and con! AS always, the usual disclaimers - this is a work of fiction and characters are wholly of my imagination! Enjoy!


I suppose there are some buzz-kills that will roll their eyes, hearing that as long as I can remember, I've left Santa Claus a special snack – usually some of Mom's sugar cookies and a glass of milk before I went to bed on Christmas Eve. It's tradition! Even as I grew older and came to realize Daddy was Santa...or at least, my Santa. I've left milk and cookies on the little table next to my father's easy-boy lounger. Daddy always encouraged me, giving me subtle reminders as I reached my teenage years and sometimes almost went to bed without leaving Santa his snack.

It was a ritual that Daddy really seemed to enjoy. Of course, Christmas and the holidays always brought out Daddy's sentimental side. He loved the family traditions of reading "The Night before Christmas" and decorating the tree and playing his old Christmas records with all those now dead crooners telling us it was "beginning to look a lot like Christmas." I was the youngest of his three kids – seven years younger than my next oldest sibling, my brother James and nine years younger than my older sister, Tina. As my siblings got older and began to pull away from family, I was the one Daddy turned to more and more to help him carry on the usual Christmas customs.

And to be honest, I enjoyed being the center of attention more and more – being acclaimed by one and all as Daddy's "little girl. Our relationship at Christmas became even more important as first Tina and then James left home. Tina married her high school sweetheart and moved from Ohio all the way across the nation to Southern California, settling down to raise four kids of her own. Falling in love with the climate, Tina is adamant about not visiting home in winter, loving her warmth and sunshine.

James joined the Air Force and most years has been stationed somewhere else when the holidays come. A self-proclaimed skirt chaser, he prefers to spend the holidays on leave chasing women. As a result, since I was eleven, I've been Daddy's salvation when it comes to making Christmas a family event.

In a way, I'm glad. When puberty hit and I began to grow into a young woman – things begin to grow a bit distant between my father and me. It really wasn't intentional, but I think as I started to develop boobs and curves, Daddy took a step back from me, holding me at arms length most of the time. The many hours of sitting in Daddy's lap as we watched Christmas specials and countless versions of "A Christmas Carol" evolved into Daddy sprawled out on his lounger and me sitting safely several feet away.

Despite that distance, it was Christmas time when Daddy and I seemed to connect the most – putting aside our growing differences in the spirit of the holidays. Mom and I talked about it many times...the Christmas connection and the obvious gulf between us that I suppose most girls and their fathers have – fights about clothes and boyfriends and curfews and all the restrictions that a teenager feels their parents are shackling them with.

Mom tried to be supportive for me and she was, even though I thought she took Daddy's side too much of the time. "Get real, Erica," she would tell me. "You'll always be your father's sweet little girl. It's hard on him to suddenly realize you've got tits and great legs and are maybe having sex with the Smith boy who used to deliver the paper!"

I would blush when Mom would get so frank. One thing about my mother was she never pulled her punches. And what she said was true. By the time I hit high school I had a woman's body – breasts that finally seemed to level off at a 38C cup and long shapely legs that looked good in short skirts and high heels. Add all that to long, black hair and a cute face and you'll understand that I never lacked for attention from the boys. And Mom was right in that I didn't waste any time experimenting sexually. Of course, that leads me right back to the tension that emerged between Daddy and me.

Aside from arguments about outfits that were too short, too tight or showed too much cleavage, there were um...occasional incidents that pushed Daddy and me apart. Daddy opening the front door to discover the Smith boy not only French Kissing me, but with his hand up under my sweater, copping a feel. Daddy turning the flashlight on the Smith boy's car parked in front of the house after my curfew to find me topless with my hand wrapped around the Smith boy's erect cock.

The worst incident didn't even involve a boy. It was the summer after I graduated from high school. Mom had gone shopping and Daddy was supposed to be at work. I was shaving my pussy in preparation for skimpy swimsuit season and was doing it in my parent's bathroom – Daddy having installed a huge three-sided mirror for Mom a few years before.

So there I am, naked, sitting on the edge of the tub with my legs spread wide, razor in hand having almost finished when Daddy walks unexpectedly into the bathroom. I don't know how long we both just stared silently at each other in shock, but it was long enough for Daddy to get a real good look at his eighteen year old daughter's tits and bald cunt and long enough that despite the terrified expression on his face, my father popped a significant boner in his pants.

Daddy only retreated after I screamed, "Daddy, get out and close the fucking door!" He retreated with a red face, an erection, muttering apologies as he went. He didn't even stay in the house. I could hear his car door slam and him roll out of the driveway in a rush.

Later that evening, I could hear him arguing with Mom about it. I only caught snatches of conversation, but the gist of it was he was worried about what I was into if I was shaving my bush and Mom was laughing and telling him not to worry about – that she'd done the same thing when she was my age and that it was more about appearances than about sex.

It ended with neither of us speaking to each other for over a week and both of us blushing whenever we were in the same room. Even after things settled down, there were flare-ups like the following Christmas as we opened presents, there was a gift certificate from Mom for a bikini wax at a local salon. She laughed her ass off and Daddy and I went around red-faced on Christmas Day unable to look at each other.

One other thing came out of that. I suddenly became aware that I did in fact turn my father on. I lost count of how many erections I noticed Daddy having when I was around. It was both amusing and unsettling. I would come downstairs, dressed in a tight and short party dress, going out clubbing with my friends and there would be Daddy, sitting in his lounger, pretending to not notice, but still popping a tent in his pants. Or, I'd come in from sunbathing in a teeny bikini in the back yard and there Daddy would be, looking rather guilty and flushed and sporting an obvious erection in his trousers.

I mentioned it to one of my best friends, Dana, but she just laughed and said her father was the same way. She said that like her dad, my father probably wasn't getting laid enough and there was probably some truth to that. Mom had been forced to undergo a hysterectomy when I was sixteen due to ovarian cancer – she'd recovered, but she confided in me that her sex drive just evaporated and had never come back. Of course, this didn't make me feel any better. I assumed that Daddy probably masturbated to relieve his needs and the thought that I might be providing his imagination with images tended to weird me out.

That might have been one of the reasons that I decided after a year in a local community college to transfer to the University of Ohio, almost one hundred miles away. There were other reasons – I broke up with the Smith boy when I found out he was two-timing me with Dana. I know it almost broke Mom's and Daddy's hearts to see their last chick leave the nest...almost, I still came home for holidays and yes, I still went along with Daddy's traditions including leaving out milk and cookies for Santa..

That brings us to this Christmas, me now twenty-one and feeling very worldly and mature. The tensions between Daddy and me were the same as ever as I picked up on when I hugged him when I first came through the door. I'd flung my arms around him to hug him and as I pressed my body against his, I could literally feel him jerk his hips back, avoiding contact in the chest and thigh region as much as possible.

During the first few days I was home, he had a lot of trouble looking me in the face, although I quickly picked up on a lot of sneaking glances my way. I was very much into tight fitting, scooped neck sweaters and dresses made of jersey material that were both warm (almost like flannel) and very, very clingy. We barely spoke at least until Christmas Eve afternoon while we were all sitting at the kitchen table when I asked to borrow Mom's car for a party that evening.

Mom was already reaching for her keys while Daddy's face fell and he said, "You mean you're not staying home tonight?" His voice was thick with disappointment.

"Uh, no. There's a party tonight at Dana's. A lot of my old classmates will be there that I haven't seen in a long time."

"But it's Christmas Eve, Erica!" Daddy said, scowling at me

I rolled my eyes as I anticipated another long battle in the never ending conflict between father and daughter. "Daddy – get real. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm getting a little old to hear "The Night before Christmas, and if I have to hear Perry what-his-name again, I may bang my head against the wall till I'm unconscious."

Daddy began to sputter, but Mom reached out and put her hand over his and smiling sadly, shook her head. "Erica is right, honey. She's not our little girl anymore."

"But...but, its Christmas," Daddy said, the heat fading from his voice. He looked at me in such a sad way that I felt almost guilty, as if I'd hit him below the belt. "Family should be together at Christmas." He looked at both of us. Despite my sudden pangs of guilt, I rolled my eyes again while Mom patted his hand and slowly shook her head. As she handed me her car keys, Daddy just sighed and got up and walked out of the room.

I guess I was the one who looked distressed then because Mom squeezed my hand and said, "Its okay, Erica. He'll get over it – it had to happen sooner or later."

I nodded and looked down, suddenly wanting to cry. It was beginning to hit me that I had just hurt Daddy's feelings badly. Before I could give it more thought, maybe change my mind, Mom got me off track by asking, "A party at Dana's? I thought you and she were on the outs after she stole the Smith boy from you."

I shrugged and replied, "That's a long time ago. I'm over it and it'll be fun to see folks again."

Mom frowned a bit. "Well, they're your friends. I don't know about Dana. She and the Smith boy still are together, but I hear she's gotten a bit wild. You behave tonight."

I laughed and promised to keep the partying to a minimum and went upstairs to get ready. When I came down to leave, Mom was in the kitchen, the smell of baking cookies filling the air. As I went to the hall closet to retrieve my coat, I ran into Daddy, still looking glum, but not so glum that I didn't notice his eyes crawling up and down my body. I was wearing a wine colored velvet dress that clung to me like a second skin with a low cut front that offered up a fine view of my breasts enhanced by the push-up bra I was wearing. A hemline that stopped an inch or two south of my crotch showed off my long and toned legs, enhanced by three inch stiletto heels.

"You won't change your mind, Erica?" Daddy asked glumly as he stared at me. "I've got all the good old albums out and Mom's making cookies for Santa."

I could feel Daddy's eyes slowly crawling over my shapely butt as I reached into the closet for my winter coat. "No, Daddy," I replied. I turned around, feeling myself blush just a little as Daddy's eyes rose up from my partially bared breasts to look forlornly into my eyes. Out of habit, I took a glance down as well and sure enough, there was a noticeable tent in Daddy's khaki slacks. Not for the first time did it send weird tremors through me – not revulsion, but just weird.

"I'll try to not stay out too late, Daddy," I said, hearing the lameness in my voice. My coat on, I stepped up to my father and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Daddy."

Daddy caught me by surprise, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a hug. As my body, not quite bundled up in my winter jacket, pressed against my father – I felt an odd tingle run through my body. We hadn't had much affectionate contact since the bathroom incident and it felt both weird and good to have Daddy holding me tight.

"Merry Christmas, baby," Daddy replied, his voice so filled with sadness, it nearly broke my heart. "His arms tightened around me a little, pulling me closer and I stifled a squeal as I felt his boner pressing against my thigh while he said added, "I reckon my little girl is all grown up now." He let me go and gave me another sad smile. "Be careful out there tonight – call if you need to."

I was at a loss for words, feeling both ashamed that I was abandoning my father on his favorite night of the year and a little stunned that I'd felt my daddy's hard cock – an experience that was going to take a while to process. A quick glance down told me Daddy's erection was still there, pressing prominently against his slacks. I had to get out of there and so I meekly waved goodbye and fled out the door.

Once I was in Mom's car, letting it warm up, I gradually calmed down. It wasn't easy. I felt bad about bailing on Daddy – bad enough that I had to fight back tears. And there was recurring images of the bulge in Daddy's pants...a big bulge the more I thought about it. I began trying to picture my father's cock – angry and aroused and that reignited those tingles I'd had when he was hugging me – tingles that centered between my legs, moistening my labia – making me, well, horny! My nipples, already hard from the cold air, swelled more to the point of aching.

I hit the steering wheel in frustration and muttered, "Fuck this!" and started up her car and drove away. I tried to banish all the thoughts of Daddy and my guilt and replace them with the possibilities Dana's party offered. I decided that I needed to get laid and maybe there would be some old classmate that would be happy to oblige me.

Alas, the party turned out to be pretty much a disappointment. There were several old classmates there – the ones who'd never really gotten over high school – the guys whose glory days had been on the high school gym floor or on the football field and who were already resembling their father's with premature beer bellies and come on lines that had been lousy back in our school days. I discovered that I had indeed gotten over the Smith boy and my best friend's betrayal – laughing and joking with them throughout the night.

Since I was driving, I only had a couple of beers – danced with several guys for the sake of dancing and was actually considering calling it quits and going home when things began to get hazy and weird – the music getting louder, the lights evolving into muted glows and people's faces and bodies getting all distorted and strange – voices slowing down or speeding up. I felt hot and sweaty, dizzy and a bit nauseous and the last thing I remembered was trying to get to a bathroom because I was pretty sure I was going to throw up and then things went black...

I dreamed – strange and bizarre dreams. Heavy metal Christmas carols blared from holes in walls. I sat on Santa's knee while he asked me lewd questions in regards to whether I'd been naughty or nice this year. Daddy, wearing a Santa hat and nothing else, sporting a monster cartoon sized erection went back and forth holding a plate of cookies and then a small, squat elf spread my legs and began licking my pussy, pausing to comment on how much he/she liked my bald clam. The elf knew how to eat pussy though and soon I felt myself approaching orgasm...

...and woke to find Dana – my former best friend for life kneeling between my spread thighs, lapping my cunt enthusiastically! I was on a large bed, my dress yanked up around my waist, panties missing and my legs draped over the side as Dana ran her tongue up and down my bare pussy – her face smeared with pussy juices. The lights were still dim and muted and things felt out of sorts – as if I was still maybe in a dream state. Shadows beyond Dana approached and became the Smith boy, his once familiar cock, erect and almost slapping against his stomach – a lusty leer etched on his face.

Dana paused and glanced over her shoulder. "She's as wet as I can make her, lover," she panted – starting to ease back to make room for him. Several things became instantly clear in my mind. I was disappointed that Dana left me on the edge of orgasm. I was astounded that I actually enjoyed a woman's mouth on me. I was hugely pissed with the realization that these two assholes had dosed me with something – one of those date rape drugs!

The Smith boy took hold of his cock, stroking it as he approached me, grinning that shit-eating grin he always had when he was about to get his rocks off. I felt my hips flex in anticipation – my need to orgasm was great and I had some fond memories of the two of us losing our virginities to each other. My desire to orgasm however was overridden by my anger and I shifted my leg and kicked the asshole in the balls as hard as I could!

As the Smith boy dropped to the floor, curling up as he cupped his testicles, moaning softly, I awkwardly sat up, my head spinning as I moved, feeling as if I was moving through molasses. I stood unsteadily on my feet and came face to face with Dana – a stunned expression warring with one of anger on her face. She was naked as well, her face glistening with my juices, her apple sized breasts, firm and attractive in a way I never considered before.

"You dumb bitch," I hissed, my voice sounding as if it was underwater. "If you'd fucking asked, I would've said yes!" As she mouthed words, lost in the swirl that was my mind, I threw a punch at her – my fist moving in what seemed like slow motion, but which she seemed to stand still for – blood spurting from her nose as my knuckles slammed into her face. She sort of floated down onto her butt, looking shocked as she brought hands up to her nose.

I tugged my dress down to cover my slick and quivering pussy, glancing around in vain for my panties. "Forget you know me, you fucking twat and tell 'loverboy' here," I said, rearing back and kicking the Smith boy in the balls again, "that he better start running if he sees me coming. Next time, I'll use Daddy's gun and blow his nuts off!"

Still dizzy, despite my fury doing some good in clearing my head, I staggered out of the room, amazed I could keep my balance on high heels. I made it downstairs – feeling as if everyone was staring at me – and as I struggled to pull on my coat and spied my reflection in the hallway mirror, I suppose they might have been. I looked like some sluttish whore trolling for business – my hair messed up and nipples obviously erect against the material of my dress.

Outside, the frigid air did much to wake me up, but it was still a long and slow drive home as my head continued to fuzz out and I had to resist again and again the urge to put a hand between my legs and finger myself to that long denied orgasm. To this day, I haven't a clue as to what they'd dosed me with, but it left me feeling both spaced and horny! I stopped twice, pulling over to the curb to roll down the window and clear my head – unable to resist caressing my breast, teasing my swollen nipples until the lights of a passing care roused me back to alertness and resume my journey home.

Ahabscribe
Ahabscribe
10,453 Followers