BYRON & EMIL DURAND "A Gift for Santa!" -- Short Story! (Patreon)

Emil Durand hurried his son along through the nondescript hallway in the old office building.  

He held his cellphone firmly in hand, repeatedly glancing down at it, then up at the multiple suite doors, searching for the correct room number.   

“Come on, Byron! We don’t want to be late! Our appointment’s for four o’clock sharp!”

“I’m coming Dad, but honestly… this is kinda lame, don’t you think? I mean, seriously… I’m twenty-one! I’m way too old for this!”  

“Son, you’re never too old to get your picture taken with Santa! Besides, your Nanna INSISTS on it! She says these photos will make great Christmas postcards for the relatives this season!”  

“UGH! Sheldon and Shannon don’t have to do this! Grumble, Grumble!”  

“That’s because they’re out of town with your mother. No more complaining, By. You’re also never too old for a good spanking!”  

Emil was joking… well, mostly. Byron decided not to test his resolve, just the same. He kept quiet the rest of the way, trying to ignore the lunacy of the situation.  

Byron, who frankly wasn’t used to being so completely dressed, wore a pair of tan, form-fitting slacks – the sort that hug a man’s cakes without leaving much to the imagination. The basket these trousers gave him was nothing short of glorious!  

He had on a powder blue button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned enough to reveal the upper portion of his muscular chest. Even clothed, it was plain to see – Byron was fit as fuck. Dressed in his “Sunday best, he looked like a million bucks!  

Eventually, they found the right suite number, and Emil led the way inside, mumbling under his breath,  annoyed that they were even just a few minutes late. Byron rolled his eyes. The joys of having an “OCD” father.  

The inside of the room was sparse, to say the least. The walls were terracotta brick and the floor a polished concrete. Heavy load-bearing wooden beams held the “roof” in place, while exposed pipes crisscrossed along the unusually high ceiling.

At the center of the expansive space, a large white backdrop had been set up. Lighting fixtures and other tools and equipment of the photography trade had been prepared with care.  

At the heart of the paraphernalia was a comfy-looking leather chair upon which sat a plump man in a red suit and a thick white beard. Santa.  

Emil beamed as he saw “Father Christmas”! Oh, how he adored Christmas! He realized that he was a dying breed. Nowadays, most folks regarded the Holidays as a sort of interruption to real life. Even his wife, dear, sweet Louisa got a little annoyed at having to drop everything to plan the typical litany of Holiday events each year.  

But not Emil! Emil LOVED Christmas. And dammit, he would make sure Byron would continue to love it, too!  

“You must be Emil Durand?” smiled Santa, rising and extending his hand.  

Emil happily shook it. “I am, Santa! And this is my boy, Byron!”  

Proudly, Emil motioned to his strapping son who halfheartedly stepped forward.  

“Hey! Sup, Santa?” 

Emil was getting annoyed. Byron’s bad attitude was now verging on rudeness! This would not do.  

Santa shook Byron’s reluctant hand as Emil tried his best to assuage any tensions. “Please forgive my son’s crabby attitude, Santa. He’ll wind up on your naughty list if he’s not careful!”  

Santa slipped an arm around Byron’s shoulder, continuing to smile. He placed a hand on Byron’s bulging chest.  

“Nonsense. I can tell Byron’s a good boy. He just needs to get into the Holiday Spirit a little, that’s all. Why don’t you and I get settled in, Byron.”

“Sure. Sigh… yeah. Okay. Let’s do this thing!”  

Santa took Byron’s hand and led him to the cushy chair at the center of the backdrop. The older man sat down and tapped his right knee, indicating that Byron should take a seat. Byron drew in a deep breath and complied uncomfortably. Yanking at the fabric of his pant-legs slightly, bulging the material visibly at his crotch, Byron plopped down.  

A little part of him was afraid he might crush Santa beneath his weight, but to his surprise, the merry gentleman’s knee felt rather sturdy. He showed no signs of stress as Byron eased himself into place.  

“That’s a good Lad, Byron. You see, there’s nothing to be scared of. This will be easy as sugar pie, you’ll see.”

“I’m not scared”, countered Byron a little too hastily. Maybe he was a little apprehensive, but he didn’t want it to show.  

“Of course, you’re not. Not a strapping hunk of a lad like you! Now, Emil… our photographer called and said he was running a little late. He’ll be here soon, however. While we wait, why don’t you use your phone to snap a few shots we can show him as examples of what you’d like to see once he gets here?”

Emil saw no harm in this. Besides, he’d try anything to help Byron relax. And if he were being honest, he rather fancied himself as an amateur photographer. Why, in his youth, he and Oliver Solando used to pose for one another all the time. He was certain he could snap some choice photographs of his son and Old Saint Nick today!  

“What a wonderful idea!” he exclaimed, enthusiastically.

Santa smiled. Byron tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position.  

Emil beamed with pride as he fumbled with his cell phone, operating the camera.“Byron’s a male model, you know! He works for the Horny De...”

“DAD!” complained Byron. “Don’t embarrass me, please!”  

Santa guffawed out loud! His large belly jiggled as he laughed. Byron worried he might fall from the old man’s knee and steadied himself by putting an arm around Santa’s shoulder.  

“Santa knows everything, Byron. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, trust me. Your father’s pride is nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s proud of your accomplishments. That’s a wonderful thing!”

“That’s right! What Santa said!”, affirmed Emil, a not-so-subtle hint of “I told you so” in his voice, clearly aimed at his son.  

Byron did his best to settle down. He smiled for the camera, stiffly at first, eventually a little more naturally while Santa grinned happily!

Emil snapped away. “These photos look wonderful, Byron. You and Santa look great together. Your Nanna will be so pleased!”  

A few more shots and still the photographer hadn’t arrived. At least Byron was feeling more calm, now. In fact, he’d actually come to find sitting atop this massive jolly fella rather pleasant.  

Santa smiled at Byron and slipped a bare hand beneath the fabric of the young hero’s shirt. The Jolly old man’s palm was wonderfully warm as he caressed and cupped Byron’s right tit.  

Byron wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, and Emil lowered the phone/camera away from his focused eye for the first time since the “session” had commenced.  

“Uhm… Santa? I don’t think this is the sort of pose my mother would appreciate on her Christmas Postcards!” Emil confessed.  

“Yeah… I mean… your hand feels… really nice, actually. But isn’t this kinda, you know, weird?” followed Byron.

Saint Nick pinched at Byron’s stiffening nipple.  

“It’s weird if we choose to make it so”, admitted Santa. His smile was so disarming and sweet, completely devoid of any “off-color” intent. It was hard to refuse him.  

Watching Santa “explore” his son, Emil felt his cock stiffen. This took him aback.  

He shifted slightly, hoping a new stance would hide the growing erection in his trousers. This wasn’t at all why he and his boy had come here, but there was something about the man pretending to be Jolly Old Saint Nick that was quite disarming and somehow impossible to refuse. And the way he was rubbing Byron’s chest was deeply, undeniably erotic.  

For his part, Byron was feeling quite warm. He was beginning to perspire. As Santa continued to rub his big beefy tit, Byron instinctively spread his legs a little wider apart. Santa’s eyes immediately darted toward Byron’s growing bulge. The youth was getting aroused, and Saint Nick took note.  

Whatever strange “Christmas Magic” was coming over the Durands, neither one of them could rebuff it.

Emil decided to see where this would lead. He shrugged his shoulders and resumed snapping photos.  

“Well, it’s not like you’ve never posed for suggestive photos before, Byron. This will be our own little Christmas present to one another.”  

Byron nodded, licking his lips delicately… hungrily. Whatever concerns and hesitations plagued him at the beginning were definitely gone now.  

Emil began directing.  

“Take your shirt off, Son.”  

Byron was concerned anew.  

“But Dad… I… I haven’t shaved my chest in a few days. I didn’t think I’d need to for photos with Santa!”

Emil now licked his own lips. He knew that his eldest son naturally had a hairy torso, but that he chose to shave most of the time. In fact, almost all of Byron ended up depilated on a regular basis. Emil had long wanted to see him keep things “natural”. The idea of Byron’s hefty pecs covered in fuzz made his cock harden even further.  

“That’s okay, Son. You know how much I’ve nagged you about shaving your chest hair off. It’ll be nice to see you with a little fuzz.”  

Byron sighed, resigned to the situation. “Okay, Dad. If you say so!”

Santa reached for the buttons on Byron’s shirt. “Here, my boy. Let me help you.”  

Soon Byron’s shirt was fully open, and indeed his beefy titties were covered in soft, dark hair. The young hero peeled the fabric from his body and tossed it outside of the camera’s frame of view.  

His bare torso, covered in a light sheen of perspiration, glistened in the studio lights. Santa whistled his approval.  

“What a beautiful young man you are, Byron!”

“Th… thank you, Santa!”  

Without a further word, Santa raised one of Byron’s arms up and hungrily started lapping at the younger man’s drenched armpit. His free hand caressed Byron’s chiseled torso appreciatively. He ran his fingers through Byron’s downy chest hair and occasionally teased and pinched his nipples. Byron moaned and found himself deeply enjoying the experience now.  

Santa’s hands roamed all over the architecture of Byron’s upper body, feeling every muscle, every perfect curvature. Finally, Kris Kringle plunged a hand beneath the waste-band of Byron’s slacks.  

Byron gasped, clearly surprised as the meaty digits kneaded and squeezed his sweaty family jewels.

“Uuh...UNNNHH!”

“Shhhh, dear lad. It’s okay. Santa’s just seeing what a big boy you are.”  

Despite all he had witnessed up to this point, this particular act surprised Emil. It surprised him and intensified his arousal. What kind of bizarrely demented Christmas magic was this, anyway? He and his son would NEVER behave this way normally… and yet, both of them seemed to be “willing” participants in this horny holiday photo session.  

The outline of Santa’s hand was clearly visible beneath the fabric of Byron’s pants. Emil could tell Papa Noel was going to town on his son’s junk. Byron was groaning slightly as the older man squeezed and exerted more and more pressure.  

Byron was coated in sweat, now.  

“Alright, Byron. You’re going to take your trousers off for Santa, now. Here. Let me help you.”  

“O.. okay…!”  

Santa withdrew his hand from beneath Byron’s pants, leaving behind the clear indication of an ample endowment at near full erection.  

With plump fingers, Old Saint Nick unclasped the button at Bryon’s waist. Languidly, he took hold of the zipper and slid it down the mound of Byron’s straining basket. Soon, Byron’s blue thong-clad cock and balls erupted into sight.  

“My goodness,” Santa exclaimed as Emil hungrily snapped away. “What a big Christmas package you’ve got there.”  

Byron felt his cheeks flush with warmth, blushing at Kris Kringle’s compliment.  

“Would you like Santa to unwrap his present, Byron?”

“Y… yes, Santa. Please… unwrap your present.”  

“What about you, Emil? Would you like me to unwrap this gift… the way you’ve unwrapped yours?”

Even as Santa posed the question, Byron realized that his father has produced his own raging hardon from beneath the fabric of his slacks. His dad was no slouch in the endowment department and he stroked his gorgeous, cut meat forcefully as he snapped yet more photos on his Android phone.  

“Please do, Santa. I definitely think you should!”

“Well, it’s not Christmas morning yet… but a gift of this magnitude deserves to be open early!”  

In a flash, Santa whipped off Byron’s trousers and discarded them, along with his dress socks and leather shoes.

Byron was now essentially naked except for the diminutive blue thong which now labored to conceal his cock and balls. The youth eased deeper into Santa’s bulk, spreading his legs further apart and now tweaking his own nipples.  

He no longer minded that he had to take photos sitting on Santa’s lap.  

He no longer obsessed about not having a perfectly waxed chest for this occasion.  

He no longer found this entire outlandish situation weird or uncomfortable.  

He was horny as fuck. He wanted Santa to strip him naked and to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to him!

His skin glistening with perspiration,  flushed with heat, Byron arched his hips, thrusting his crotch upward slightly as Santa caressed the massive package adoringly.

Taking his time, Old Saint Nick grabbed the tiny waistband of the pathetically diminutive garment. Slowly he slid it down from Byron’s narrow hips. The lower he got, the more thick dark pubic hair he uncovered.

Finally, after what seemed to Emil like an impossibly, maddeningly long wait, Byron’s beautiful uncircumcised penis literally sprang from the garment and slapped heavily upon his son’s washboard abs with a loud, damp smack.  

Lord, he was beautiful! Every inch of him absolute, sheer perfection. He would never admit this openly, but at this very moment, Emil deeply envied Santa.  

Santa smiled with extreme satisfaction. He discarded the useless thong and cradled Byron’s full, heavy testicles in the warmth of his hand. He fondled the fuzzy orbs, squeezing gently and tugging playfully, amused that each yank caused Byron’s now impossibly hard wiener to jolt upward and immediately slap back down.  

Byron moaned and whimpered as Kris Kringle fondled him. He was desperate for Santa to grab hold of his hardon and abuse it until he inevitably blew a massive wad of warm baby-batter into the old man’s rosy-cheeked face!  

Looking down, Byron was surprised to find an extremely snug, polished chrome cock ring adorning his man parts. He couldn’t recall leaving the house with it on. In fact, he didn’t even think this was a cock-ring he actually owned. What the Hell was going on here…?!

Actual Christmas magic? The genuine article? Nah…! Well, maybe?

Who fucking cared how the ring got there, anyway! Santa had finally grabbed his cock and all he felt now was an intense desire to cum for him and for his watching Dad.

“Your son has a truly magnificent penis, Emil. He clearly takes after his father,” the jolly old fella said playing with Byron’s velvety foreskin.  

Emil could only chuckle nervously in response. It was rather strange watching this Holiday figure manhandle his boy… but the train had left the station now, and it was on a one way express trip to “Cumsville”! Emil had no intention of slamming on the brakes.  

Santa rolled the delicate hood of flesh completely over the pink plum of Byron’s cock until it bunched up into a pouting little mound of delectably wet perfection.  

Back down Santa rolled the folds, exposing Byron’s glistening mushroom head which was wet with anticipation, weeping generous volumes of precum at this point.  

Byron trembled. He was so close to release. He would do anything to get there.  

For about a minute or two, Santa played with Byron’s foreskin, teasing him, edging him, driving the youth into a veritable frenzy. There was so much pre-ejaculate, Emil wondered if his son hadn’t actually already climaxed a little.  

Finally, the desired moment had arrived.  

“Byron. I’m going to put your penis in my mouth, now. I’m going to play with your cookies and you’re going to make some nice creamy milk for Santa, got that?  

Byron could only nod, gasping in anticipation. He was going out of his mind with heat now. At last, the warmth of Santa’s mouth enveloped the tip of his cock! The sensation was intoxicating. It was as he’d imagined. Pure, unadulterated Heaven.  

The old man was greedy. He was done being delicate. He slobbered and gurgled, devouring the massive organ in one gulp. He bobbed up and down, gagging and blowing bubbles of thick saliva and pre-jizz as he voraciously hoovered Byron’s erect sex.  

He drew back a moment, grabbing at the hood of Byron’s foreskin with both thumbs, pulling. He slid his plump, wet tongue beneath the ample, chewy prepuce. He moaned and mewled as he tongued the sheath of flesh, lapping at the little slit of Byron’s glans.  

“DADDY!” Byron screamed. “He… He’s gonna make me CUM!”  

“LET HIM”, countered Emil. How was he even still taking photos? He’d been jerking his own meat hard and fast this entire time. He too was dangerously close to release.  

Finally, Santa gobbled up Byron’s erection anew, and this time, it wasn’t long until glorious eruption… especially given the way that Santa was now also fingering Byron’s tight little pucker.  

Yes indeed, FINALLY, Byron climaxed. Santa’s mouth was filled with tidal waves of hot, young sperm, thick and salty.  

Kris Kringle swallowed load after load, never easing up his stroking of Byron’s cock or the fingering of his hole.  

Emil dropped to his knees as he too shot, literally, one of the biggest loads of spunk he’d ever shot. His eyes were virtually glued to his Son and Santa. He didn’t want to miss a single, incredible moment of this spectacle that had so sent him over the edge.  

Byron moaned, throat hoarse and begged for Santa to stop. He felt he’d shot all he’d had in him to shoot.   

Santa disagreed.  

“Oh no, my boy! There’s more cream in your pretty meat truffles! Santa wants all of it!”  

“OH GOD! STOP… P… PLEASE! No… there’s no moooooooOOOOOORE!!”

Byron howled and screamed as Santa pressed the impossibly sensitive helmet of his schlong against the soft palm of his big hand. Incessantly, the large man rubbed the tender organ. Around and around, over and over!  

Mercilessly, the Jolly Old Man rubbed and ground and stroked!  

Tears rolled down Byron’s flushed cheeks and he mewled and moaned, pleading for Saint Nick to stop torturing his knob, certain his nuts had been depleted. Santa didn’t buy it. He was determined that Byron would shoot again.  

And shoot again, he did. Byron was frenzied! He was rocked by one of the most violently profound orgasms of his life.  

Thick, ambrosial cream oozed slowly from his abused, throbbing organ. All Byron wanted now was to catch his breath. That, and to have Santa finally unhand his aching dink. But Santa wouldn’t have it.  

The rotund man began slapping Byron’s still rock-hard penis with mischievous glee. Each blow was harder than the last. The engorged organ was beginning to turn purple.  

“When Santa tells you to do something, Byron, you obey!”  

More slapping! Harder and harder! Byron looked at his father, pleading with his eyes for him to intervene, but Emil didn’t dare. He was transfixed and immobilized by the power emanating from Saint Nick!  

“Are you going to be a good boy from now on, Byron? Will you behave for Santa now?”  

“YAAAASSSS! Yes, Santa… SOB! I promise I will. I promise! SOB! Please… no more.”

“Oh, just a little bit more, my boy!”  

And there was a little bit more.  

Byron came again.  

All the abuse and roughhousing Santa was subjecting Byron’s penis to had coaxed yet more sperm from the desperate youth’s aching balls.  

As Santa voraciously lapped up the last little drops of Byron’s boy butter, Byron and Emil both lapsed into enchanted, blissful unconsciousness.

As Byron slept, Santa continued to enjoy him.  

***

Byron awoke laying naked, tummy to back, on top of his father, who was also completely bare-assed nude. The two of them were in a room that Byron didn’t recognize as part of their home. Then it dawned on him. They were at the Obsidian Grand Hotel. They’d stayed here often before. It was unmistakable.  

Byron felt sticky and truth be told, his cock was sore. Had… had all of that Santa business really happened?  

He felt so strange and sluggish. If only he could clear the cobwebs from his brain.  

He reached for his father, who was lying on his tummy atop the comfortable duvet. He shook him gently.  

“Dad? Daddy… wake up, Dad!”  

“Urm… unh…” Emil stirred.  

The older man sat up, trying unsuccessfully to cover his nakedness from his son.  

“Byron? Did… did you? Did we…?”

“I was gonna ask you the same thing, Dad. The Santa pics! Did that really happen?”  

“I have no idea. It must have… I guess… I guess we couldn’t both have dreamed it.”  

Byron shook his head. He couldn’t focus. He desperately wanted a shower.  

“Look, I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Then maybe you and I can figure out what the heck we just went through and what we’re both doing here naked in this Hotel.”  

Emil watched as his son ambled his way to the lavish bathroom where a glorious tile shower awaited him. As Byron walked, his heavy dick jounced lazily from right to left. It was indeed a pretty sight.

Byron closed the bathroom door only partway. The soothing water sluiced all over him, enveloping him in a deep warmth that would aid to rouse his mind from its bizarre stupor.  

He began to sing. Emil loved listening to his son sing. He had a beautiful voice. This was a good sign. Soon, things would be back to normal.  

Absentmindedly, Emil reached for the bedside table and retrieved his cell phone.  

Sure enough, there were hundreds of new photos, taken earlier that day. Byron’s photo-session with Santa had indeed happened. The more he looked at the photos – innocuous enough at first, then increasingly suggestive – the harder Emil got.  

Who was this strange man Byron had posed with? Surely he’d been nothing more than an actor dressed up as Santa Claus, hired by the photographer for Holiday-themed sessions. He couldn’t have been the real deal…  

… the genuine article?

Could he?  

Whatever the truth, both he and his son were safe and sound. They had ample photographs they could supply Nanna for her Christmas Greeting Cards, and ample photographs they could keep for their own private enjoyment.  

Emil decided not to worry about it any longer.  

Byron was singing a Jason Derulo tune… better than Derulo himself, Emil thought. A father’s pride! It was lovely, and Emil thought that Byron sounded more “awake” now.  

He placed his phone back down atop the table and made his way to the washroom door. Billowing clouds of exquisite steam greeted him as he peered in, naked and fully erect. He was delighted to find that Byron’s cock was also completely rigid.  

“Can I join you, Son? Daddy needs a shower… badly!”  

Byron smiled as the water doused all over him. He had hoped this might happen.  

“Sure Dad. Come on in!”  

As both men relished in the intoxicating warmth of the water, they held each other, their erections sliding and slipping as they drew one another closer.  

“So that was weird, huh!” remarked Byron.  

“Yup! But hey, it makes for one heck of a Christmas story!”  

“It sure does, Dad.”  

They pressed their foreheads gently together, eyes closed and smiling, enjoying the moment, despite the day’s earlier madness.  

“Merry Christmas, Dad!”

“Merry Christmas, Son.”

EPILOGUE.  

Happily ensconced in his dark, cavernous lair in the North Pole, he smiled a toothy, sinister grin.  

Krampus loved taking on the form of Santa Claus.

The ability to transform his physical self and to assume the shape of anyone or anything he desired was one of his many abilities, sure, but it was possibly the one he enjoyed the absolute most.  

The Durand kid and his father hadn’t suspected a thing, and they had fallen utterly under his spell.  

Yes. He could have devoured them.

Indeed he’d been tempted. The kid’s enormous wiener would have made a hefty meal in itself… but his spunk had been so intensely delicious, he’d decided to let him and his pops live so that he could enjoy them for years to come.  

His dark pagan magics had transported Emil and Byron from the studio to a Hotel suite, none the worse for wear.  

Maybe next year, he’d step things up a notch and fuck the living daylights out of both of the Durand men. Oh yes… that would be nice!  

Krampus smiled at the idea of his new “Christmas tradition”. He licked his chops and stroked his enormous cock, delighting at the thought of savoring Byron’s semen again next year, and for many, many more years to come after that.  

The End.  

LINES & COVER LAYOUT: Patrick Fillion

COLORS: Cabrera & Fillion

BYRON & EMIL DURAND  and all other characters are © Copyright & ™ 2019 Patrick Fillion / Class Comics Inc. All rights reserved.