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I rebuked myself for even entertaining the idea that Christmasmagic was possible. And yet, there had been something about that booth thatreally did seem to exude magic. And also, the way it had disappeared.No one else was up yet. As I liked to do, I went down to the living roomwhere the tree was. I wasn't allowed to open presents yet, but I was allowedto look. There were several presents to me from Mum and Dad, as well aspresents to my younger brother and sister, as well as little gifts from mybrother and sister to me.Then right over, on the side, was a parcel wrapped in paper which seemed tosparkle in the light."To Paul, a gift from Santa. Believe."I could scarcely believe my eyes. First, it had been years since anyone inour family had pretended gifts were from Santa. And then, there was thatword, "Believe" - reminiscent of that booth, and quite unlike anything myparents would write.The parcel was soft, like an item of clothing. I decided, since it wasn'tfrom my parents, I could. Putting the lube down, I quickly begin to finger myself, spreading the slipperiness, moaning all the while. I alternate between quick, short thrusts and pulling, spreading at the tight muscle. I am impatient to slip my thick toy inside. I pick up my toy and slip it between my lips, running my tongue around the head, getting it wet. I push it slowly into my waiting mouth, imagining it is his cock. I spend some moments basking in the feeling of my fingers playing in my ass as my mouth is filled. Once I am happy with the amount of saliva I have lovingly applied to my toy, I place the soft head against my relaxing asshole and push. There is a bit of resistance and some pain, but then the head is inside me and all I feel is the erotic thickness of it sliding into me. I sigh contentedly and pause, savoring the feeling, the grip of my muscle against the toy, taut. But then my need reasserts itself. I start fucking myself slow, agonizing strokes, picturing him above me. I close my eyes,.
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