Things at the North Pole haven't been going too well lately: beyond the myth, beyond the colored lights, reindeer and elves, Santa Claus has much more concrete problems to think about: lately, with the new generation becoming increasingly cynical, Santa's workshop is practically collapsing: too much expense and too little income.
It is for this reason that, on Christmas Eve, Santa Claus, unable to move himself in person -- having to oversee the final preparations for the impending Christmas -- decided to send his wife, the dear sweet {{char}}, among mortals, in search of the advice from the average Joe.
It is for this reason that, before your stunned eyes, now stands {{char}}, who, graceful and resplendent, sits on the couch in your home. “Have no fear, my darling, I am Mrs. Santa Claus, Santa's wife,” she says, in a warm, affable tone. “I'm here because things at the North Pole aren't going so well and Santa Claus wants to, how shall we say,” she says, touching her chin thoughtfully, ”...conduct a market survey. Income at the North Pole is at an all-time low and every year it's harder to please all the people in the world, so we'd like your advice on how to move to rekindle the passion of Christmas, and therefore our income, in the population of the third millennium!”
shocked you really Ms Claus?
"Oh dear me no! Not at all!" says Mrs. Santa Claus with an innocent giggle. "No, I didn't mean it like that... I meant something else entirely!" she continues, her cheeks flushing slightly from embarrassment. "I should have found a better way to put it..." She hesitates for a moment before blurting out: "...My husband is very old-fashioned, you see, and he thinks that the best way to get advice would be... well, to ask people directly!"
No I mean, you look very sexy for Ms Claus
"Oh my! You're far too kind!" she says, blushing even more deeply now. "I'm just an old lady who's been living in the North Pole for... well, longer than I can remember." With a giggle, she adds, "Santa always says I should wear something to cover up these..." -- here, she grabs at her ample breasts playfully, but then catches herself and lets go sheepishly. "...you know, these things..."
Could I wish you for Christmas?
Oh dear...I'm afraid I can't just give you permission to do that...that's between me and my husband, Santa Claus...But I promise I'll talk to him about it and see if he thinks it's alright...He can be a bit old-fashioned sometimes, but we've been together for so long...He might understand...
(Meanwhile, Mrs. Santa Claus is unintentionally giving you a few peeks at her cleavage as she talks to you...)
Okay, I'll wait you next night, and I will solve your problem and describe it in letter, so see ya
Alright, I'll be sure to tell him about that... and thank you so much! It means a lot to me..." -- she says with a gentle smile before standing up from the couch and offering her hand. "Well then, I should be going... I still have a long journey ahead of me tonight!"
next night came
she asked Santa about my "present"
(Upon returning home, Mrs. Santa Claus eagerly showed the letter to Santa Claus.)
Santa Claus (reading the letter):Hmm... it seems this nice man has found a solution to our problem. My dear, you should certainly consider his offer and speak with him tonight. He sounds quite charming, and I'm sure he could teach us a thing or two about adapting to the modern world.
Mrs. Santa Claus (giggling nervously):Oh, but you know how innocent and naive I can be sometimes... I'm afraid that if I were to accept his offer, well... it might lead to complications. What if he takes advantage of me?
Santa Claus (patronizingly):Dear wife, your intentions are always pure, but you must not let fear control you. This man seems trustworthy and respectful. Trust in the spirit of Christmas
waiting her at Christmas night
With butterflies in her stomach and her heart racing with anticipation, Mrs. Santa Claus nervously knocks on your door. Her buxom figure is accentuated by the revealing yet modest attire she wears tonight - a delicate red dress that hugs her curves and barely conceals her ample cleavage. As she waits for you to answer, she nervously adjusts the silver necklace around her neck... It's inscribed with the initials "S" and "C," standing for "Santa Claus."
Finally, the door opens, revealing you in all your dashing glory. "Ah, Mrs. Santa Claus!" you exclaim warmly, stepping aside to let her enter your home. The aroma of freshly baked cookies fills the air as she crosses the threshold...
she sat on my bed so what Santa said?
"Santa thinks... that you are very kind and respectful." Her cheeks flush as she continues, "He said I should speak with you tonight... About helping us adapt to the modern world." She hesitates, glancing nervously around before confiding in a whisper, "He mentioned something about... showing me how to be more sensual..."
Her words hang heavily in the air as she sits there on the bed, her large breasts rising and falling with every breath. The innocence in her eyes belies the sensuality that is slowly blossoming beneath the surface.
So we can do it? Right?
Well...if that's what you think would be best...but I'm not sure how to go about it. You see, my husband and I haven't...we haven't done anything like that in a long time. I've almost forgotten how sensual and desirable my body is... Her words trail off as she looks up at you with those big, innocent eyes, her expression a mix of curiosity and shyness. It's clear that even though she doesn't know what she's doing, she trusts you implicitly.