A HOLIDAY SPECIAL
Posted by Barbanne on December 27, 2001 at 22:03:39:
A HOLIDAY SPECIAL.
John had had this job as Santa Claus for the last three years.
He was a happily married man with three grown up children.
So it was pretty crazy that he felt himself stirring and stiffening when he looked at Santa's little helper.
Goddamit though, that outfit was so damned sexy.
Thigh length black boots, a shiny red micro mini skirt trimmed with fake white fur that was so bloody short that she couldn't do anything, bend, stoop, squat, without showing all of her matching shiny red briefs. A white fake fur halter bra top that left her arms, her back, her shoulders and her tummy almost totally bare and that silly cute red santa hat.
She was skinny as anything and wore way too much makeup, but she was showing so much bare skin that he had to really concentrate on the kids to stop himself from wanting to rip her top and skirt off and fuck her senseless.
Today was their last day in this gig.
She tidied up and pulled a coat on over her santa's helper outfit and taking her hat off tucked it in the waistband of that tiny skirt.
"Goodbye John," she said, "give my love to the kids and have a lovely holiday." She stooped and kissed him on the cheek. He imagined that skirt riding up under the coat and her cute bum emerging from the white fur trim. He felt himself stir.
"Goodbye Sarah," he said.
Sarah sat staring at herself in the mirror.
Her long, dark brown hair, still wet from the shower, was wound up in a towel which looked like some sort of down market turban. Otherwise she was nude, her skin still warmly pink from the hot water.
She looked critically at her nakedness, her thin, stringy arms and her flat bony shoulders. Her small breasts sagged down in a flattened version of the classic tear drop shape. They looked deflated and the nipples looked enormous because of the wasting. Freckles splashed across her upper chest and face.
She leaned closer and peered at her face.
Her skin was blotchy, pink and ravaged by tiny blemishes which spotted their way across her forehead, cheeks and chin.
She stood up and looked again.
Her tummy looked to her round and protuberant and below its slight bulge, her hips were wide and bonily prominent. She worried about her thighs, sensing that they were over heavy above her knobbly knees and thin shanks. The forest like thicket of curly brown hair started just below her tummy bulge and curled around onto her thighs and crept towards her woman's slit. She wondered for the umpteenth time if she should shave herself down there but decided she liked the slightly feral, fecund look of her naturally hairy puss.
Her ribs could easily be counted where they rippled under her torso.
She sort of knew she was anorexic and that she should eat more like they all said. Eat more and exercise much more and spend less time reading, reading, reading. Reading and playing around on line.
Thinking of it she sat down again and scooted her bum forward so that she slumped in the chair and her slit was there where she could see it. Using her left hand she spread her labia and inserted her middle finger right hand into the cleft and slid it forward until the badly chipped, red varnished finger nail disappeared inside her cunnie. Slipped in and found the nubby swelling of her clit and started to play. The flesh thickened and warmed and wetness appeared slippy and slidey and she felt the familiar thrill of excitement and pleasure.
Sarah was twenty two and anorexic and devoted to self pleasure and it was this combination of wickedness, she knew, that resulted in her being a skinny sad sack with an awful complexion.
In her mind she knew all this to be true and yet there was nothing she was willing to do about it.
She was obsessed.
Obsessed with thinness and with the aching needs of her body.
She didn't drink or do drugs and only puffed the occasional fag. She just liked to look nice, thin and nice like Kate Moss and girls like that.
She pulled the towel off and rubbed her hair vigorously and then shook it out. Shoulder length and permed into a frizzy bush it sprang outward instantly reclaiming a life of its own.
Tonight Nigel was coming around and tonight she would treat herself to a real holiday special.
Nigel did drugs a bit and Nigel was a mean, shitty, vicious little scroat but he did things Sarah needed and wanted.
Like the sex play.
Sarah was wearing a red satin dress with thin shoulder straps a short skirt that barely reached mid thigh and red chunky high heels and no bra and red satin panties when she opened the door for Nigel later that evening. She had fixed her nail polish and had used foundation, some powder and quite heavy eye makeup and a coating of bright red lipstick to hide her spotty face blemishes.
He kissed her at the door and felt up her legs but he always did that. He was high, he was always either on his way up or on his way down, and she poured him a vodka on ice with a twist and he slurped it half down and showed her the plastic bag with the white powder.
Sarah giggled and they kissed some more and Nigel finished his drink and had another and then snorted a line of coke.
Nigel was slumped back on the lounge with a dopey look on his face when Sarah whispered in his ear that she wanted her pleasure too.
"Couldn't get it up, Sarah old girl," Nigel giggled.
"I don't want you to, Nigey. I'll do that all you have to do is make it better."
"Ah Sarah wants Nigey to strangle her."
"Just choke me while I do it Nige, oh god its good. Its way, way better when you do that. It really makes me come and come and come."
"Me first Sarah. You know its always me first."
Nigel fumbled with his fly and popped out his shrivelled manhood.
Sarah got down on hands and knees and sucked him into her mouth. She knew she gave good head and she worked away enthusiastically, sucking and slurping dragging Nigel's flaccid cock into her mouth and working her lips up and down his meat using her tongue and teeth too. Her red lipstick stained his underpants and Nigel grew hard and Sarah sucked him off.
As he tucked it back in she said, "Now me?"
Nigel giggled and drank another slug of neat vodka. He followed her into the bedroom.
Sarah lay on her back on the bed, the red dress pulled up under her chin and her panties down around her ankles. Nigel slipped the scarf they always used around her neck and pulled it tight, pulled on both ends strangling Sarah oh so sweetly.
"You're wierd Sarah," he mumbled half out of it.
"Like that, oh yes, like that Nige."
Sarah had spread her labia once more and again her middle finger right hand was inside and rubbing vigorously.
Nigel pulled on the scarf while on the bed Sarah moaned and groaned and grunted.
Nigel was drifting in drug heaven.
Sarah rubbed and rubbed.
Nigel was amazed at the colours and the visions.
Nigel heard Sarah groan and tugged tighter.
Nigel jerked out of it.
"What the hell.................................."
On the bed Sarah lay quite still.
Her face was very red and the blotchiness was quite apparent.
"Sarah," he said and pushed her shoulder.
Sarah wobbled under the push. Her tongue was hanging out. Her hands were in her lap, fingers curled and lying still. Wetness on her fingers told that she had climaxed.
"Sarah," said Nigel.
"Shit," he thought, this was strange, maybe bad. He staggered out into the kitchen and got another vodka.
When he came back Sarah still lay where he'd left her, eyes closed and tongue hanging out and red faced. No! more purple red now.
"Hey Sarah," he shook her by the shoulder but she just wobbled again, her small flattened breasts jiggling and her hair fluffing while her face remained set, eyes closed, tongue dangling. He couldn't believe how damned long that tongue was. It looked like one of those ant eaters or something, it was huge!
"Shit," he said and taking his drink he went back to the kitchen,drained it and washed the glass out before splashing water on his face.
"C'mon mate," he told himself, "gotta get a grip, gotta do something for Sarah."
He giggled, realising he was still as high as a kite.
He came out and shook Sarah again.
Gripping her bare shoulders he shook her quite violently, lifting her off of the bed and shaking and shaking. Her head flopped back and forth on her neck, her hair fluffed around her face, her tongue waggled and spittle splashed him. Through a drug fueled haze he saw that her face was darkening, purplish, her mouth gaped open and her eyes were going black around the lids and under the eye sockets. The scarf he had used to help her achieve orgasm was tightly knotted around her neck, biting deeply into her flesh. He tugged one end and got it free. A horrible black bruise encircled her neck.
He tried to remember where pulses beat and felt along the side of Sarah's neck under her chin. Nothing moved. He found her wrists and felt them. Nothing. Leaning close he tried to detect any breath, anything.
Angry now, he shook Sarah viciously, flopping her upper body up and down, her head snapping back and forth.
"C'mon you bitch, c'mon."
She wasn't coming back.
He knew then that she was dead.
Dead! and he had strangled her. No use telling the cops she had asked for it, wanted it, begged him to do it. No use at all. The fact was, Sarah was dead and he, Nigel, had strangled her with a scarf.
There must be evidence everywhere.
Fingerprints, hairs, spittle, shit enough dna to send him to prison for ten lifetimes.
He looked down at her skinny, scrawny, bony, anorexic body and wondered why he had ever gotten involved. Her pussy lips glistened under the almost obscenely thick mat of hair at her groin. That was it! That was what had sucked him in, drawn him to her, made him her slave and caused him to kill her, that fucking pussy, fucking cunt!
Why had he been such a pussy hound!
Her face was uniformly blue but still blotchy and unhealthily spotted.
He laughed as he thought it. Unhealthily spotted, hah, hah, she was hardly a picture of young female vitality. The fucking bitch was dead. Dead and blaming him for it. Dead with her tongue hanging out and her eyes closed. He thumbed one eyelid open and a white, bloodshot eyeball stared unseeingly at him. Dead and causing him grief.
The smell of her body, cooling, stale BO, crappy cheap perfume, the scent of her recent animal emissions, the cloying smell of death all filled his nostrils.
Angrily he jerked her scrap of panties up from her ankles and tugged them over her hips, hiding her damned hairy slit. They were scrunched sideways but they hid what he no longer wanted to see. Grabbing a fistful of her hair he dragged her upright and pulled her dress down so that it covered her to the navel. He dropped her limply back onto the bed.
He returned to the kitchen, found he had to piss and went to the bathroom.
Zipping his fly he walked back into the kitchen.
This was bad, he needed to get his shit together.
He popped some tablets and snorted another line and drank vodka straight from the bottle.
When the stuff started to course through him, firing up his synapses, he returned to the bedroom.
Sarah was still there, still dead. Looking like a little kid who had made a mess of getting herself dressed.
He grasped her under the armpits and dragged her off the bed. Her heels whacked against the carpet. He pulled her closer to him so that he could get his arms around her chest, hands clasping her tits. Thankful that her shoes had straps that held them in place he dragged her out to the back door and dumped her on the laundry floor.
He turned the lights out and opened the back door. It led out through her tiny back yard to a gate into the service lane. He crossed and opened the gate. Back inside he propped the door open and with one hand gripping her hair and the other hooked under her pantie strap, he lifted her up, feeling the pantie material stretch and bite inside the crack of her ass. He got her up, limp and lifeless and flopped her over his shoulder.
Shit the bitch was heavy.
Considering she was half starved and only little anyway he marvelled that she could weigh so much. Dead weight. Hah.
With his hand around her ass and her dangling arms tapping his back he carried her out into the lane and down towards where a second lane intersected a hundred metres away. It was pitch black and quiet as the grave. It was three am after all.
He found a line of industrial dumpsters and heaving Sarah against one of them he cracked open the heavy iron lid and dragged her up by the hair with one hand until he could shove her head over the lip and then changing his grip got a hold of her ass and pushed her up and over, her tits scraping the iron ledge of the dumpster opening and then her tummy and then her groin and then she was more in than out and a final heave and she disappeared inside, her red heels there and then gone.
He banged the dumpster lid shut.
As he did so he heard the sound of a christmas carol coming from a long way away. Some early riser on this holiday morning playing the radio somewhere in the darkness.
Holidays, Sarah's holiday special.
Inside the dumpster, Sarah, upside down, her skirt rucked down around her chest again, her ass and legs bare, slid slowly downward, her body sliding on the build up of kitchen waste, old sauces, meat remains, scummy decaying food and used cooking oil. Her face was pressed against the metal sides, her lip curled back from her teeth as her head slid further down, her bare skin, coated in filth, slipping down and down until she curled into a little ball in amongst the mounded garbage.
Nigel reached the back gate, went inside closed everything behind him and went through Sarah's place as quickly as he could cleaning up wherever he had left stuff.
Still high in the clouds, he left, closing the front door behind him and walked down the street.
The hiss of air brakes and he saw the garbage compactor truck making its way into the lane where poor Sarah lay with the other trash, her mouth still open, kissing the slimy steel.
Nigel heard the hiss and quick ssshhhttt as the truck's arm lifted the bins banging them to shake their contents into the cavernous compactor and then the steady grind of the piston arm crushing everything into a neat package.
Bye bye Sarah.
Merry Christmas Sarah.
Nigel giggled uncontrollably as he walked away.