Confessions of a jolly old fat man

I expect no introductions are needed, but you can think of me as Kris.

I am what Sir Terry Pratchett calls an anthropomorphic personification, and I reside in a congruent reality which lets me ignore time for a night. Specifically, for the night before Christmas. On that night, I travel the world quick as a wink. It doesn’t seem that way to me, naturally. I experience thousands of unsleeping hours in this one night, joyfully making my rounds. Time dilation is weird that way.

You all know what I do in my travels of course. Or think you do.

It’s mostly what you expect: Rushing about in my flying sleigh, sliding down chimneys, partaking of the milk and cookies and other treats left out for me, leaving presents for the good boys and girls, leaving lumps coal for the naughty ones. (Though if I’m being honest coal is a little bit passé these days. In practice it’s filling the naughty stockings teasingly full with bulky and unwanted things. These days it’s often walnuts in the shell, or novelty erasers, or black licorice. The world is a passive aggressive place, and this helps teach the children to understand that.)

The work I do, I do for the children of course. But children are not the only people in the world, oh ho ho no. In nearly any house with children, there are also adults. Most sleep through my visits just as the children do. They are peaceful in their sleeping comfort even as a stranger enters their house.

A stranger they think they know.

Everyone knows about my list. I know who is nice. I know who’s naughty. What many don’t realize is that I don’t just know who’s naughty and nice; I know what people *want*. I have to know, to bring the appropriate presents. Not everyone writes letters these days.

You all have imagined me into existence, a vigorous old fat man, bearded and jolly. With my very existence came the powers that I must have to live up to your imagination.

You all have imagined me to be a man, like any other. Some of you have imagined a wife for me, but sadly that overall is a passing belief that’s not strong enough to conjure her into being as you have me. My existence is single.

But I have the same desires as any other straight man.

Visiting millions of households tonight, I will look in on many women. Some of these are lonely single mothers. Or adult sisters still learning about the world and curious for new adventure. Or neglected wives, longing for a loving touch. And of course, I need not limit my visits to only houses with children. There are women living alone or with roommates too, childfree and often lonely.

And I know what they want too.

Most of you, were you to meet me on the street, would not give me a second glance. For most of you an older fat man does not spark your desire or I’m not even your preferred sex. Others though might want me, but would not want to admit to their friends and family how strongly the age gap appeals, that they long to be commanded by a confident and powerful old man. Nor that being close to a man of such bulk would make them feel small. Precious. Protected.

Some, of course, want *exactly* that.

I will visit hundreds of millions of women this night, asleep in their beds. And I know their secret desires.

Consent is easy to find, when I know what everyone wants and can pick from the whole world. Those who don’t want me will never know I’m there.

But some would welcome being awakened by a man’s deep voice, or a confident loving touch. Some long to feel the bed move and hear it creak as a man climbs in to embrace them.

Some lucky ones will get their wish tonight.

Some wish for cuddling and kissing and gentle lovemaking. Others, the feel of a bearded face between their thighs, licking and nibbling. And still others wish simply to be taken suddenly, roughly, waking to being controlled and crushed and penetrated.

To some who desire it, and for whom the timing is right, I will even give a gift they will not receive until late September.

I always know how best to please each one.

I always know how best to please **you**.

Sweet dreams, until I see you tonight.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zupe6p/confessions_of_a_jolly_old_fat_man