What happens when a naughty little elf named Yule, pairs up with a lonely-but-nice elf named Tinsel? Why, sexcapades at the North Pole, of course!
Throw in a reindeer gone missing just before Christmas, plus Santa’s frantic workshop trying to get ready for the holiday at the last minute, and see how the spirit of the season can change even the most bitter elf. Kissing under the mistletoe never had such a sexy twist before.
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“Quiet down,” the boss yelled, chubby hands held up high. The workshop settled down a bit, enough for Santa to bemoan, “Comet is missing. He went for a practice run and never came back.” And then there was utter pandemonium, a sea of shouts and cries swirling around the workroom, elfin feet running to and fro, hands waving in the air in mass hysteria. With Christmas just a few days away, this, they knew, was the worst news imaginable. “Pair off,” Santa yelled, just above the din. “Bring only your essentials and then scatter in all directions. He must be found, quickly. Or else Christmas is doomed.”
And scatter they did, stopping by their small apartments first, emerging a short while later, warm clothes over work ones, determined looks on their faces as they hurried into the countryside, into the woods, up the snow-capped mountains and down to the ice-covered lakes. Tinsel ran lickety-split to the northern hilly regions, Yule lumbering directly behind him, clearly none too eager for the hunt.
“What’s the big deal?” the blond elf grumbled, the two stopping by a brook several hours later, bending down for a much-needed drink of water, for a chance to catch their breathes. “Santa’s got seven more.”
Tinsel shook his head, a look of consternation on his usually happy, sunny face. “He needs all eight, otherwise he can’t deliver all the toys.”
Yule shrugged. “So? A few kids go without. He’ll catch them next year.”
Tinsel plopped down in the snow, sadness suddenly overcoming him. “A child without a toy on Christmas? What could be worse than a heartbroken little boy or girl?”
Yule scratched his head beneath his woolen hat. “Blue balls?” he replied, knowingly.
Tinsel hadn’t a clue what that meant. Still, the words shot blood down into his prick. He looked to his handsome friend in a mixture of both lust and confusion. “You’re a strange one, Yule,” he uttered.
“Nah,” came the reply. “Just horny, is all. And desperately in need of a good coming.” He grinned and then winked. “By the way, wanna see the essentials I brought with me?” He reached into his back pocket and held them up. “Time for a break, anyway.” He set the bottle of lube to his right, the pink dildo to his left.
Tinsel eyed them curiously. “What ... what do you do with them? Are they toys of some sort?” They certainly appeared as such, especially the pink one. Though they were like nothing he’d ever seen in the workshop before.
Yule laughed, the sound swirling around Tinsel’s already addled brain. “Something like that. Wanna play with them?”
Tinsel nodded and then gulped, sweat cascading down his reddened cheeks, despite the chilly northern environs. Something inside him told him that playing, in the strictest sense, is not what they’d soon be doing.
Yule looked around and spotted the cave in the valley below, the two of them hurrying down and inside, a fire quickly started with a cigarette lighter and some dead pine needles. “Let’s see that beautiful body of yours now, little one,” Yule rasped, pushing down on the bulge that had quickly formed in his red and green britches.
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