Santa’s Unexpected Visit


The grandfather clock in Candice’s log cabin had just chimed out twelve musical ding dongs, followed by one loud peal; indicating the time was now 1:00AM on Christmas morning. The severe winter in Barrow, the most northern town in Alaska; had the temperature dropping to a gelid -35 °F. Barrow has a population of approximately 4, 430 people and is located at 71°17′44″N, which is some 330 miles above the Arctic Circle. Barrow is a mere 1,300 miles south of the North Pole. Ice fog had earlier enveloped the town of Barrow and Candice’s cabin, which is located about half a mile outside of town. For the past two hours, Candice had been melancholy; reliving the untimely death of her husband some nine months ago. Sitting on the couch in the living room, Candice was alone and sipping on some port wine; all the while staring intensely into the flickering flames from the oil heater. In an adjacent room, her young son Stephen was asleep; dreaming of riding a bicycle from Santa Claus at Christmas. Depression had overwhelmed Candice since John, her husband, was killed in a snowmobile accident. Unable to work, her time was spent caring for her young son. Making ends meet on her meagre government pension to support both of them was most difficult. Candice knew that when Stephen awoke in the morning, that there would be no Christmas present. The feeling of guilt and hopelessness started to permeate through her body. Wrapping a blanket tightly over herself, Candice closed her eyes and started to drift off to sleep on the couch. All of a sudden, as though in a dream, Candice awoke; imagining that she heard a knock on the door. Again, a feeble knock rapped on the door; as though someone was sending a message in Morse code. Candice arose from her stupor and walked slowly towards the front door, still cocooned inside her snug blanket. Puzzled and a little apprehensively, Candice stammered out, “Who is there?” There was no answer. Nervous and becoming afraid, Candice crept towards the securely bolted front door. For a third time, there was another feeble knock on the door. Afraid somebody might be outside, injured or dying; Candice plucked up enough courage to open the front door. After sliding back the bolt and turning the door knob to open the heavy wooden door, Candice could see the source of the rapping. To her bewilderment, she could see a very aged man dressed in a Santa suit. The bespectacled and white bearded man appeared to be weak and frail. “Who are you? What are you doing here at this time of night? You will catch your death out there,” Candice stammered out to the stranger. “I am Santa Claus and I have come to deliver a bicycle to your son Stephen,” the old man replied. In a state of bewilderment, Candice blurted out, “Pull my other leg mister, you know there is no Santa Claus. By the way, how in heavens would you know that he wanted a bicycle for Christmas?” “But I am the real Santa Claus, just look behind me,” was the reply from the old man with frost already settling on his bushy beard. Gesturing to Candice for her to take a peek outside behind him, she took a step forward and stepped outside into the biting coldness. Once outside, Candice looked towards the front gate to her property. Straining her eyes to peer through the heavy ice fog, Candice could make out the shape of a large sleigh and eight reindeer. Just as Santa called out to Dasher and Dancer to stay put until he returned, Candice collapsed on the threshold of the cabin. After Candice regained consciousness, she found herself lying on the couch in Ankara escort front of her warm oil heater. Santa was patiently sitting on a chair opposite her, waiting for her to recover from the shock that she had just witnessed. Seeing a sled and eight reindeer had been too much for her to grasp. Her blurred vision slowly regained focus until she could see Santa’s kind bearded face in full clarity. “Welcome back to the living, Mrs. Martin. I must apologize for startling you, as the reindeer are usually invisible to human eyes,” Santa said in soft dulcet tone. Candice could see a bespectacled face that was weather worn from age. Santa’s forehead was furrowed, his eyes were slightly sunken and his lips were thin. Santa look very old, perhaps in his eighties, by Candice’s estimate. Snowy white hair protruded from beneath his red hat and fell unevenly onto his furrowed brow. His puffy pink cheeks were barely visible beneath an evenly distributed white beard that flowed down to his chest. Santa’s eyebrows were also white and droplets of water were already forming from the melting snow on his hat. Looking down to his body, Candice could see Santa’s slightly paunchy figure decked in a letterbox red suit; complete with a wide black leather belt and matching leather boots and gloves. In a soft but disbelieving tone, Candice hesitantly asked the elderly man, “You really are Santa Claus, aren’t you?” “Yes, I am the real Santa Claus. Your house is the last house I had to visit before flying back home again,” Santa replied. After repositioning herself on the sofa, Candice looked at Santa and asked, “How can you possibly go around to every house in the world in one night? That would be impossible!” “You are absolutely right Mrs. Martin. There is only one Santa Claus but I do have thousands of helpers that also deliver presents throughout the entire world. Trying to get her head around what was happening, Candice then started to pepper Santa with many questions, trying to seek some answers, whether they be logical or illogical. “If you are the original Santa Claus, that would make you hundreds of years old. Surely you can’t be that old?” Candice enquired. “My great, great, great grandfather…..many times removed, was the original Santa. Since then, the eldest son in the family lineage has inherited the right to be Santa. Due to my age of eighty-four, tonight is the last night I will performing my Christmas duties. Once I go back home later tonight, I will relinquish my role and my eldest son will take over the mantle and responsibility. My great, great……grandfather was Saint Nicholas who was also known as Nikolaos of Myra. Nikolaos was born on March 15, 270 AD and died on December 6, 343 AD. So he was actually born around 1745 years ago.” In a state of disbelief, Candice continued to ask Santa some piercing questions. “Books and stories today say that Santa lives in the North Pole. That can’t possibly be true as there is no permanently solid land mass at the North Pole. Can you please reveal where you live then?” “You are very observant Mrs. Martin. I will not reveal the exact location of my home and factory, but I can say it is in Greenland. I live north of a small town known as Qaanaaq, formerly known as Thule. My home and factory is well camouflaged and remains hidden from human life, apart from my helpers. From there, we make all our toys and then each “Santa” delivers presents to all the children around the world at Christmas time.” Continuing on, Candice then asked, “Is there a Mrs. Santa Ankara escort bayan Claus?” With a hesitation and wavering in his voice, Santa sadly replied, “No Mrs. Martin, she died two years ago. My eldest son is married and has a wonderful wife and they have a son and daughter. From them, the next Santa lineage will continue.” Candice then made a cup of hot coffee for Santa and herself. She also gave Santa some chocolate fudge and cookies to eat while they continued their extraordinary conversation. Candice informed Santa about the tragic loss of her husband and the difficulty in bringing up her son alone in such an inhospitable place as Barrow. These two unlikely people found some solace in each other as time continued to tick by. “Mrs. Martin; I am touched by your hospitality, honesty and your unfortunate circumstances. It is very rare for Santa’s to give gifts to adults, as Christmas time is basically a time for children. What has happened tonight has never happened before, at least not since I have been Santa. Before I go back to Greenland shortly with my team of reindeer, I would like to give you a very special gift. This mystical gift has been handed down from generation to generation in the Santa family but has never been issued to anyone worthy until now. Santa continued with his spiel to Candice about an ancestral Santa being present on the Christmas in the same year as the birth of Genghis Khan on May 31, 1162 AD. When Santa arrived at the home of the baby Genghis Khan at Christmas that year, Santa gave his parents a very valuable and ornate sword so that one day he would rule the world. In return, Genghis’ parents gave a return gift to the then Santa. The gift was a baton, a mystical artefact that could give the beholder any wish he or she could make. The only proviso was that Santa himself could not use the gift for his own purpose. Should Santa request a self-wish, he would die an agonizing death. In the last eight hundred and fifty-three years, no Santa has risked using the baton; either on himself or his family. Santa then stepped forward and faced Candice who was standing by the dining table. Reaching into his red suit, Santa fetched a slender black metallic baton, around twelve inches long. Santa then presented Candice with her special Christmas present. “Here is my gift to you Mrs. Martin. I need to pass this on to someone who can use it wisely, before my time is up. I feel that I can trust you with this enormous responsibility. All you need to do Mrs. Martin, is to point the baton at a person or object you wish to use it on. Once you have selected your target, you just simply request your wish out aloud. That is the instruction that has been handed down for many generations. Try it out on anything you like, just to see if it does actually work,” Santa said to Candice in trepidation and anticipation. Candice took a few steps backwards from Santa and looked sympathetically at the kind old man standing in front of her. Nervously, Candice raised the baton and then pointed it directly at Santa. Candice then uttered the words, “Make Santa young again!” A blue laser-like flash, accompanied simultaneously with a shimmering magical cloud, expelled from the end of the metallic baton. Seconds later, after the cloud had dispersed, there was a much thinner looking Santa standing in front of Candice. Santa looked around twenty years old, had a youthful sparkle in his eye and his dentures had been replaced by his original teeth. Santa no longer wore any glasses Escort Ankara as his eyesight had been fully restored. The shock for Candice was too much for her and she fainted for the second time that night. When Candice came to, she was lying on the couch again. Santa was nearby and standing adjacent to the couch, as a shell-shocked Candice regained her composure. With his now youthful appearance, Santa was unrecognizable; barring his costume and boots. “Your clothes are falling off you and your suit needs some alterations done before you leave Santa,” Candice commented. “Could you really do that for me Mrs. Martin? I would appreciate that very much,” Santa replied. Up until now, Santa had been very formal, addressing Candice as Mrs. Martin. Candice then asked Santa, “From now on, could you please call me Candice instead of Mrs. Martin, as I am no longer married.” “I certainly will Candice,” said Santa speaking to Candice as a newly found friend. Candice soon recovered fully from the shock of seeing Santa transformed by magic to a youthful man. She sat up in her sofa facing Santa and leaned towards him. Reaching out, Candice pulled off Santa’s long black leather boots. Santa then went and stood by the oil heater where Candice removed his black leather belt, Santa suit, thermal vest and socks. Santa was now facing Candice in nothing but his underpants which were now a few sizes too big for him. Candice went to a cupboard in another room and retrieved her sewing machine and measuring tape. After taking Santa’s measurements, Candice started making the necessary adjustments to his clothing. Figuring that Santa was now similar in size to her departed husband, Candice went to her bedroom and brought back a pair of fleecy red jocks. Working fast as the skilled seamstress she was, Candice finished all the clothing adjustments in just under an hour. With a broad grin, Candice said to Santa, “It’s time to try on your new Santa suit. Maybe I can give you a gift in return as well,” she added. Kneeling on the floor in front of Santa, Candice took the liberty of pulling his oversized jocks down to his ankles before he stepped out of them. Candice could see a very small limp circumcised cock that hung down, barely covering any of his scrotum. Santa’s left testicle was hanging slightly lower than his right testicle, indicating that Santa was most likely right-handed. Embarrassed at his nakedness or quite possibly due to the shortness of his cock, Santa tried to cover up his flaccid penis with his hands. With her face in close proximity to Santa’s penis, Santa could feel the warmth of her breath against his scrotum as she spoke. His penis stirred slightly from the warmth of her breath. This was the first cock that Candice had seen since the death of her husband. It was small but it was still a cock. Emotions stirred within her body and all those dormant hormones provided proof that she was still a woman in need of sex. Under her clothing, she could feel her nipples harden and her love tunnel beginning to moisten. Her mouth was only inches from Santa’s flaccid penis before she involuntarily leaned forward, as if by instinct, to encapsulate the head of his cock with her moist lips. After working on Santa’s scrotum and cock for some minutes, Santa stood there enjoying the attention he was receiving. It had been many years since he had had sex with his wife. Never before had Santa ever experienced a blow job from his wife. Although Santa was now fully hard, Candice was disappointed that his cock was barely four inches in length. After momentarily releasing her hermetically sealed grip from his penis, Candice said to Santa, “Hang on a minute Santa, I have an idea.” Leaving Santa somewhat a little bewildered and standing naked in the living room, Candice went to the table to fetch her mystical metallic baton.

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