Hank had never had a better climax.
The rest of the staycation went as one would expect between family members, apart from Abby leaving them after the first movie, saying she had ‘plans’. He found he was paying more attention to his mom than the movies. He stole glances at her, taking in her tank top and the way it molded over her breasts. She caught him looking now and then and just smiled at him before going back to the movie.
They were alone. Hank wanted to pursue her, to push for more, but every time he tried to work up his nerve the specter of his attempt to talk to Emma in high school shut him down. Why was he such a wimp?
After the staycation they went back to normal. Hank’s dad came back from his fishing trip on Sunday, followed soon after by Abby after her night out. She darted to her room as soon as she got in, not talking to anyone.
Hank felt like he had missed an opportunity to push matters with his mom after Abby had left, and vowed to push more the next time.
—
The ‘next time’ didn’t happen for over a month. Life continued on its way, with his mom not tipping her hand about being horny or having sucked his prick in any way. Hank was used to it by now, but he still kept an eye out for any opportunity to be alone with her.
It was Christmas when something magical happened.
Hank’s dad always put on a production at Christmas wearing a Santa outfit. He’d tuck a bunch of presents under the tree before having his kids sit on his lap and ask them the usual questions. After the kids sat on his lap their mom sat on his lap as well, which always made them laugh when they were younger. She would spend longer on his lap than both of the kids combined, whispering in Santa’s ear and giggling, while he ‘Ho Ho Ho’ed’ away.
It had been a tradition since Hank and Abby were young, but the last few years it had been pretty awkward. They were too big for that kind of thing.
This year their dad announced he wasn’t going to play Santa this year. It was an announcement met with indifference by the younger Jenkins and a pout by Andrea Jenkins.
“But how will I tell Santa what I want for Christmas?” she asked, batting her eyes at her husband.
“You can tell the new Santa: Hank!”
So many reactions at once. Abby rolled her eyes and declared she was not sitting on her brother’s lap. His dad looked proud he was passing the torch along. His mom didn’t say anything, but looked between her husband and her son with a tentative smile.
“Me?” Hank finally said, stunned. “Why me? It’s your thing.”
“Yeah, but traditions are meant to be passed on, and if you don’t start now, you won’t be in the groove when you leave and start your own family. Get some practice in now, you’ll be flawless for your kids.”
When Greg Jenkins got an idea in his head, it stuck. Hank knew he was the new Santa; it was best to just roll with it and try to get it over with.
A week later, on Christmas Eve, Hank pulled the massive suit out of the box it sat in for the rest of the year and examined it. He was the same size as his dad now, so it should fit fine.
Pulling the pants on, he was pleased to see they fit pretty well. The jacket was big of course, when he put the provided pillow in the front it completed the illusion of him having a belly. The beard was prickly and annoying and took a lot of adjusting. When the outfit was fully on, he inspected himself in a mirror. Not bad. Not great.
Sighing, Hank grabbed the bag of presents given him by his dad and gritted his teeth to get the ordeal over with.
“Ho Ho Hoooo!” he hoed, as he walked into the living room, before stopping. “Where are dad and Abby?” he asked the only person there: his mom.
“Your dad forgot the cranberry sauce for tomorrow so I sent him out to get more. He took Abby because it can be a zoo out there. They might be a while; the stores tend to sell out the day before…and they’ll text before they get back.”
“Oh. I guess I’ll go take this off then,” he said.
“Hold on.” His mom was dressed in a Mrs. Claus outfit, one which Hank had seen before, but never noted how sexy it looked on her. A short red skirt, red velvet heels and a cute red sweater that hugged her frame. Red lipstick and a red hat completed the ensemble.
Hank waited as she walked up to him. “I haven’t told Santa what I want for Christmas yet.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for dad and Abby to come back?”
“No, Abby isn’t interested, and your dad won’t sit on your lap. It’s just me,” she murmured.
She was close to him now, and he could smell her perfume. Hank’s pants shifted as he cleared his throat. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked.
“No. I have to sit on your lap.” she said.
Hank went to the wide, leather chair next to the tree, dropping his sack of presents. He sat down and waited nervously for the next step. He could tell something was different about how his mom was acting. As she approached him, he noted for the first time her Mrs. Claus outfit was missing the white wool stockings she normally matched with the skirt.
Hank watched her bare legs saunter to him. He prepared for her to turn and sit on his knee. She would lay back against his dad when sitting on his lap, and Hank could feel himself harden at the thought of her doing it to him. She didn’t. Instead, she lifted one knee up onto the chair and then the other, straddling him.
“Now ask me,” she husked, staring down at him.
Hank felt his throat closing up with lust. “What do you want for Christmas, Mom?”
“This,” she said, reaching for the string holding up his Santa pants.
Under the pants were just his boxers, and in no time she was fishing his hard cock out of the slit.
“Mmmmm, so hard. Is this for me this time?”
Hank nodded. He remembered his theory that when she did this, she was horny and wanting to play. He wanted to play too. Ready for her to stop him, he moved his hands from the arms of the chair to her bare thighs, feeling her warm flesh. When she just smiled at him, he pushed his hands along her flanks to her butt, and found it bare as well. His mom wasn’t wearing any panties.
“Ohhh, mommy is being naughty, isn’t she?” Hank said, testing the waters.
“Is she? I thought she was just helping her son with his erection problem.” She was running her hands up and down his length.
Hank was squeezing and groping her ass now, pulling her cheeks apart. “I don’t think it’s a problem this time.”
Hank took his life in his hands by moving his hands from her bare ass, tracing her hips around to her front, following the crease where her legs bent until he found silky hair. A further exploration found her dripping pussy lips.
“Mmm, it seems like Santa is the naughty one this year,” she said, still stroking his cock lightly.
Hank had never touched a pussy before, and only knew the basics. He felt fumbly as he ran his fingers along her lips. She moaned when he touched the upper region of her slit, so he did it again, feeling a squishy nub under his fingers.
“Oh, Hank,” she sighed.
Hank felt like a kid in a candy store. He lifted one hand and brought it to her wool covered chest, gripping one tit in his palm, feeling a bump push back. She wasn’t wearing a bra. One thing Hank had never noticed about his mom’s outfit were the snaps her sweater was done up with. A quick snatch at her front and the snaps gave way, her tits popping out in Hank’s face.