Santa cums POV

I’m balancing on the step stool, stringing lights around the Christmas tree, when he walks in. Red lace clings to every curve—the bra, the garter, the sheer stockings—nothing else on me. He stops dead. One look and his cock is already fighting his zipper. He yanks me off the stool, spins me around, and drops his pants in the same breath. I sink to my knees right there on the hardwood and take him in my mouth, lips stretched tight, tongue working the head while the lights blink behind me. He groans, fingers in my hair, and I go deeper, saliva running down my chin, red lipstick smearing along his shaft. He pulls out fast, angles his cock at my face, and strokes once—thick ropes land across my lips, my cheek, my lashes. Cum drips onto the lace cups of my bra while the tree keeps twinkling behind us.