Good Monday morning, Orgiasts! The holidays are rushing up to us. I hope you have your shopping well under way for whatever holiday you celebrate, and for my friends celebrating Hanukkah, I hope you enjoyed your holidays.

A few announcements before we get to the conclusion of my second Christmas flash story, “Stripper Claus.”

My second collection of short stories is now available! Think you’re ready for Another Very Dirty Dozen? 11 of my hot, steamy stories that were first published in magazines or anthologies, plus an all new short story, “Running Mate,” never before published! Get your hands on it at AMAZON or ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS and steam up some windows this holiday season.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to get your hands on Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, now available from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

One more update: The stories from our Holiday anthology last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, have been released as singles! Grab up one, two, or all five of the Story Orgy Holiday stories for just .99 each! Click on each of our names to hop on over to All Romance eBooks for the stories (Amazon links coming soon): Hank Edwards, Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, Em Woods, JR Boyd.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the conclusion of my Christmas Flash Fiction I wrote based on prompts sent in by Jambrea Gaff:  Mall Santa, Fountain, and Stripper Pole. Ohh myy! Thanks, Jambrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

 

Stripper Claus

Conclusion

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

Clay watched the ambulance attendants wheel the stretcher down the handicap ramp. The woman’s daughter, Cassie, walked alongside, one hand gripping her mother’s, the other holding tight to a doll Santa had given her for being so brave.

A robust “Ho, ho, ho,” nabbed Clay’s attention, and he turned to look over at Santa where he was welcoming a young boy onto his lap. There was conversation about what the boy wanted for Christmas, a photo was snapped, and the boy left with a candy cane and a bright smile. Santa met Clay’s gaze a moment, winked, and then turned to greet his next visitor.

Reports needed to be written and the higher ups notified of the incident, so Clay had no time to hang around and flirt with Santa. With a nod to the wide-eyed teenage girl elf who stood by the exit, Clay made his way out of Santa’s castle and through the crowds toward the security office.

He passed the glass fronted counter of Caroline’s Cookies and heard someone call to him. It was Millie, of course, her hairnet snug around the top of her gray-haired head, eyes wide behind the dark plastic frames of her glasses.

“What happened, Clay?” Millie asked.

“Someone just passed out is all,” Clay replied. “Probably got too warm waiting to see Santa.”

“Can’t fault her for that,” the other counter worker said, a woman a couple decades younger than Millie’s early 70s.

“That new Santa is one hot piece of beef.”

Clay frowned. “You do know you’re talking about Santa, right?”

The woman stared at him a moment before saying. “That’s all fake hair and beard and padding. Have you seen him walking into work?” Clay shook his head and the woman and Millie exchanged a look as they fanned themselves.
Millie said, “Trust me, Clay, it would be worth the effort for you to get to work an hour early and, maybe, you know, hang out in the locker room a bit. Maybe have trouble with your belt or the gel insoles of your shoes or something.”

A noisy family of six stepped up to the counter and Clay shook his head and turned away, lifting his hand in farewell. He had a report to write up, and then he could grab some lunch.

The next morning, Clay found he was wide awake earlier than usual. Maybe the dreams of sinking his cock deep into Santa’s tight, hot hole had something to do with it. He paid more attention than usual to his grooming, checking his hair in the mirror several times and changing his uniform pants twice, trying to find the pair that fit him the best.

When he arrived at work, the mall was busy already, and he leaned into the cold wind screaming across the open plain of the parking lot. Holiday season meant the employees parked in the furthest corners of the lot to allow more shoppers to park closer.

Merry fucking Christmas, be grateful that you’re working.

He stepped into the employee men’s locker room and paused. Someone was there already, taking a shower and singing a Christmas song. He had a deep, rich voice, and the scent of the body wash he was using sent a shiver through Clay.

Clay opened his locker and hung up his coat. He busied himself preparing for his shift, but stopped what he was doing when the water shut off. In a few minutes, a sexy, stocky furry hunk of man wearing only a white towel stepped around the corner of the lockers and stopped in surprise at the sight of him.

“Oh, sorry,” the man said, a blush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“No worries, you sounded good.”

“Yeah? Well, thanks.” The man moved past Clay, the damp scent of body wash wafting behind him.
As he went back to his work, Clay looked up now and then, checking out the short, dark hair on the man’s head, the dark fur covering his torso, and the round curve of his ass beneath his towel. Clay stared into his locker a moment, trying to collect himself and keep his hard-on at bay. Not too successful on that front.

“My name’s Kent Wales.”

Clay looked up in surprise. He’d been so focused on ignoring the man he hadn’t heard him approach. Kent wore a pair of tight fitting boxer briefs that outlined his cock and balls, the leg openings clinging to the furry trunks of his thighs.

“What?” Clay managed.

Kent smirked and extended his hand further. “Kent Wales.” He gestured over his shoulder to a small pile of red velvet and white faux fur trim. “Otherwise known as Saint Nick, Santa Claus, or the jolly old elf.”

Clay took Kent’s hand and his cock throbbed at the damp touch of the man’s skin. He tried not to think that earlier he had been jerking off with that same hand, tried also not to wonder if Kent had been doing the same.

“Clay Rawlings.”

“Good work yesterday with that lady who fainted.” Kent turned his back to return to his locker, and Clay’s gaze dropped to the tight, round swell of his ass beneath the soft cotton briefs. “It’s been a long time since someone’s fainted in front of me. Not since my stripper days.”

“Stripper days?” Clay’s brain clicked back into gear. “Santa stripper? Kinky.”

Kent smirked over his bare shoulder. “You have no idea.”

Clay smirked back. “I think I do.”

Kent held his gaze a long moment, his eyes a brilliant blue, and then his smirk widened to a grin and he said, “You here all day?”

“Yep.”

“Meet me back here after the mall closes?”

“Secret Santa stuff?”

“Something like that.”

Clay nodded and, reluctantly, turned away to finish getting ready for his shift. When he had nothing left to occupy him, he closed his locker and brushed past Kent on his way to the door. “Keep those elves in line.”

“They are sarcastic little bitches,” Kent said, and they both laughed.

After a long, distracted day patrolling, Clay was glad to follow the last lingering shopper to the main doors and lock them. He got on the radio and checked in with the other security guards, making sure all the doors were secure, and then each of them did a walk through of a wing of the mall, meeting in the center by the fountain to report all shoppers had left and stores were secured. Some employees were cleaning up stock and counting out the register receipts, safe behind metal gates. Soon they would scurry out the back entrances and trudge across the empty parking lots to the employee spots.

Clay volunteered to lock up everything and herded the other security guards to the door. He watched them walk out into the night, shoulders hunched against the wind, and then turned to hurry back to the employee locker room.
Someone was humming a Christmas song, and when he recognized it, Clay grinned. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Indeed.

He straightened his shirt, reached down the front of his pants to adjust his already hardening cock, and then moved along the row of lockers to come to a surprised stop at the end. Kent had pulled out the padding that gave him a big belly, but still wore his Santa suit and beard. He was humming the song as he spun around a stripper pole, one of the expandable poles that could be taken along with him.

“Well, hello Santa Claus,” Clay said.

Kent looked up and smiled beneath the white beard. “Well, hello Clay. Have you been a good little security guard this year?”

Clay smirked. “Nope.”

Kent winked and his smile widened. “Good. Sit down on the end of that bench, Santa’s got a present for you.”

Clay sat on the bench between the lockers, his leg bouncing with impatient anticipation. He licked his dry lips and tried not to think too far ahead. He didn’t want to miss a minute of Kent’s “present.”

Still humming the song, Kent slid around the stripper pole, changing his grip with ease. He hooked a leg around the pole and spun with one arm extended. When he came to a stop, he faced Clay and planted both booted feet to either side of the pole, and then pulled apart his red velvet jacket. It was held together with Velcro and sounded like material tearing. Clay’s cock jumped at the sound and the sight that followed: Kent’s strong torso, shining with sweat and covered in dark hair.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas,” Clay whispered.

Kent smiled beneath his beard and shrugged out of the jacket before resuming his dance around the stripper pole. He continued to hum “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” and teased the back of his red velvet pants down an inch, then another, and then another. Clay caught glimpses of the pale flesh of Kent’s ass cheeks, also graced with dark hair, and he had to reach down to adjust himself.

With his legs to either side of the pole, Kent extended a foot to Clay and nodded down to his boot. Clay gripped the sides of the boot, surprised to find it was real leather, and slid it off his foot. The white sock stayed inside the boot, leaving Kent with one bare foot. The man planted that foot on the floor and lifted his other leg for Clay to remove that boot as well. Clay set the boots on the floor and stared at the vision before him.

Still wearing the white beard, red hat with white trim, and red pants, Kent was a hot vision of Christmas spirit. Sweat gleamed beneath the hair on his chest, and as he spun around the pole, Kent slipped the top of his pants down a little bit at a time, revealing the waistband and straps of a red jockstrap underneath.

Clay nearly blew his wad right there.

Finally, with a flourish of arm movements and a high kick that sent the red pants flying over Clay’s head, Kent gripped the stripper pole and upended himself. He wrapped his feet around the pole and slowly lowered himself to the floor, his arousal evident by the bulging cotton pouch of his jockstrap and the feral look in his blue eyes.

“Holy shit,” Clay said in quiet awe when Kent ended his routine sitting on the floor with his legs around the base of the pole.

Kent got to his feet, breathing deep from his workout, and he walked up to stand right in front of Clay, wearing only the red hat, white beard, and red jockstrap.

“Santa’s got a present for you, Clay.” Kent reached down to grab his cock, barely restrained by the jock’s pouch.

Clay couldn’t wait. He was beyond impatient by now. He could smell the damp, rank scent of Kent’s sweat and it pushed his excitement even higher. Leaning forward, Clay extended his tongue and ran it slowly up the sweat-slick, hairy surface of Kent’s belly. Above him, Kent sucked in a quick breath and Clay felt the man’s abs tremble.

He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of the jock and pulled it out then down. Kent’s cock, fully hard and slick with pre-come, bobbed in Clay’s face and he opened his mouth to take it deep in his throat.

“Fuck yeah,” Kent said and groaned as he put his hands on the back of Clay’s head. Kent thrust his hips, his cock pushing and pulling between Clay’s lips, the salty taste of Kent’s sweat and pre-come filling his mouth as the man’s prick skidded along his tongue.

With trembling fingers, Clay unbuttoned his own shirt and fumbled with the buckle of his duty belt. It clattered to the floor and he worked on his pants next, leaving them open and pulling his underwear down so the waistband sat under his balls. His cock swayed in the warm air of the changing room, pre-come dribbling down the shaft. Before Clay could take hold of himself, however, Kent leaned over to wrap his hand around the hot length of him.

Clay moaned around his mouthful of cock, and Kent mumbled something that sounded like, “Fuckin’ hung, too? Fuck yeah.”

That was all it took. Clay released Kent’s cock and stood up, forcing Kent to stand as well. He pressed his mouth over Kent’s and, as their tongues collided, struggled out of his uniform. Kent lost the jockstrap and hat, and Clay leaned back to finally pull away the white beard. They grabbed each other tight, sweat-slick bodies rubbing together, cocks grinding, mouths crushed together.

Finally, Kent pulled back and said in a hoarse whisper, “Fuck me.” He moved to lean over the bench between the lockers, his strong arms supporting him up, his ass in the air. “Condom’s in my pants pocket.”

“Santa brings all the right gifts,” Clay said and fished the packet out of the soft velvet pocket. It was lubricated, good thing, and as Clay rolled it over himself, he knelt behind Kent and pressed his mouth to the damp, hairy crack of the man’s ass. Clay flicked his tongue over the tender folds and felt Kent shiver. He drilled his tongue between the ridges of muscle once, twice, a third time. By then he had the condom rolled on just right and stood up.

The tight, rounded mounds of Kent’s furry ass waited before him, and Clay tipped his cock down toward the tight entrance. He was harder than he’d been in years, it wasn’t going to take long for him to come, and from the size of the puddle of pre-come on the bench beneath Kent, he was just as close.

Clay eased into the hot depths. He felt Kent’s muscles clutch and release around him. A groan started deep in his chest and rumbled up his throat to slip from between his lips.

“Oh, fuuuuucckk,” Kent moaned. “Yeah, man.”

Clay pulled back and pushed in again, and then his hips took over. Sweat ran down his body as he watched Kent’s ass cheeks bounce beneath the onslaught of his fucking. He heard the wet, sticky slap of skin on skin contact, felt the tightening of Kent’s muscles around his driving cock, squeezing and releasing in time with his thrusts.

“Oh, yeah, oh yeah,” Kent said between grunts.”I’m coming. Santa’s coming.”

The deep, lustful tone of Kent’s voice and the tight grip of his muscles was too much for Clay. He closed his eyes and pushed in deep, letting out a shout as he shot his load into the condom.

Spent and gasping, Clay leaned forward, laying along Kent’s back and putting his arms around the man. He placed a gentle kiss on the knobs of Kent’s spine as he slid out of him.

Kent straightened up and turned to smile dreamily at Clay before leaning in to give him a slow, deep kiss.

“That was fucking awesome,” Kent said.

“You’re fucking awesome,” Clay returned. He reached down to tug Kent’s softening cock. “You are one hot Santa fucker.”

Kent smirked and reached down to give Clay’s cock a playful tug. “You’re the Santa fucker.” He kissed him again.

“Feel like another trip on Santa’s sleigh? Maybe at your place?”

“Sounds good,” Clay said. “But this time, I get to ride your Yuletide log.”

Kent waggled his eyebrows. “Butch and versatile? Merry Christmas to me.”

“Santa deserves a gift now and then, too,” Clay said, and then nodded toward the stripper pole. “And definitely bring that with you.”

~~ * ~~

 Well, it looks like Clay and Kent really hit it off. I hope you enjoyed my Christmas Flash story, “Stripper Claus,” and come back next week–yep, your Story Orgy writers are posting for you on Christmas Eve!–for the start of my third and final story, featuring these prompt items sent in by Dawn Roberto: candy canes, snow storm, a retired bull rider. Oh yeah, you’re not gonna want to miss my story “Stew Brannigan Rides Again,” that’s for sure! For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

 Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

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Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor