A Christmas Carroll

Stan was back home for the holidays, and it felt good to be back in his childhood home. Sure, it had only been a few months since his last visit. But with him in his final months of college, he was getting fewer and fewer chances to make the journey out of state. With graduation drawing ever closer, he'd hoped to find a job somewhere closer to home, but all of his trawling job sites came up with nothing that would put his degree to good use. At least in the big cities, people were clamoring for child psychologists. As for now, he'd cherish every moment spent with his parents and sister while he could.

Which is why he felt a little disgruntled by his current task. His mom had given him a box of baked goods to deliver to someone in their apartment block. Some old guy called Geoffrey Carroll. He'd seen him a few times in the lobby over the years, but neither of them had ever said a single word to the other. Why would they? The man was as old as his grandparents. Older, even. His mom, however, knew every single person in the building by name, and almost every little thing about them. Apparently, he'd slipped on some ice outside the lobby recently, and fractured his hip. So she'd taken it upon herself to make him a treat, and asked Stan to offer any help in bringing some festive cheer. 

So he put on his best ugly festive sweater, stuffed a Santa hat on his head, and trekked up a flight of stairs to deliver the goods. He knocked at the door, and after a period just long enough to consider leaving the box on the floor and leaving, it was opened by a squat, elderly man with a bristly mustache and wispy, thinning hair. He had a pair of thick rimmed spectacles, and propped himself up with a steel medical cane. He looked him up and down with suspicion. "Wrong door," he grumbled. "I don't do that online stuff..."

"No Mr. Carroll, I'm Stan. I live on the floor below you. Uh, you know my mom, Betty Brooks? She heard about your accident, and asked me to give you these."

"Ah, Betty. A fine woman, she is. She's the only one who seems to check up on me nowadays..." Geoffrey stepped back from the door and added, "Well don't stand there like a lemon, come in!"

It was a little awkward to be invited inside given how he'd never said two words to the man up to now. But Stan pushed through the awkwardness and squeezed his way past the elderly man, being careful not to trip over his cane, and stepped into the living room. It looked much like his grandparent's house, smelled a little like it too. There were old photos of family members scattered around the room. He stopped in front of one which looked like a family reunion and asked, "Does your family not stop by? Seems like there's a lot of them..."

 "Of course they do!" Geoffrey sneered. "But they all moved away long ago. My youngest grandson's the closest, and he's still a good two hour drive. Everyone gets together for Thanksgiving, but Christmas? Bah! They're too old for that now, they have their own kids to coddle."

"No Christmas huh?" Stan felt a little disappointed by that sentiment. His family were Christmas mad. Like putting the Christmas tree up on Halloween mad. Looking around him now, there was no indication it was the middle of December. Not even a stray greeting card. "I guess that explains the lack of decorations..."

"My wife was the one who decorated for Christmas." Geoffrey sighed solemnly. "I haven't touched an ornament since she passed."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be, it was years ago," he said. "She was the sociable one, the one who enjoyed everything about Christmas. It doesn't feel right to celebrate without her..."

"Well I could put some decorations up," Stan suggested. "If you want, that is. Spruce the place up a bit."

"Bah, it'd only get in the way!" Geoffrey grumbled. "And all those lights and flashy nonsense would kick up my migraines!"

"I see," Stan said with a stroke of his chin. "You're a bit of a Scrooge."

"No I'm not!" Geoffrey huffed. "I can celebrate Christmas without the need for the frivolities. If anything, they get in the way of the true meaning of Christmas."

"Mmm, the presents."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'm kidding, of course it's about spending time with loved ones."

"No, it's about the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Good gracious, what are they teaching you in school nowadays!?"

"Sir, I'm 22."

"That's no excuse for ignorance!"

Stan sighed. Was it the pain of his fractured hip or was this guy always so grouchy? Maybe he needed a little encouragement. With a sly smile, he said "I wish you could reflect on those Christmases Past. Maybe you'll get more into the Christmas spirit, Mr. Scrooge!" He slipped the Santa hat from his head and plopped it atop Geoffrey's balding pate. It slid down his head, and almost covered his eyes. It took plenty of willpower for Stan to not burst into laughter at the sight.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey didn't appear to see the bright side of things, his cheeks almost as red as the hat blocking his vision. "I wish you would reflect on all those Christmases Yet To Come, and understand how demeaning the entire blasted thing is!" He yanked the hat off his head and tossed it to the ground. "Yes, I've read A Christmas Carol, you fool-born lout! And keep that hooter of yours out of other's personal businesses!"

"Wow..."

Geoffrey seethed for a moment, allowing his temper to cool before exhaling a heavy sigh. "You know what? Do whatever you want. Decorate or don't. I don't care any more." Stan was surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. Was this that seasonal depression he'd heard about? Geoffrey shuffled past him, quietly sneering "I'll be sure to let you know if any ghosts visit." before entering his bedroom with a huff.

Maybe he shouldn't have given the lad free reign over his apartment, Geoffrey briefly wondered before a sharp pain shot through his body. He winced as he lowered himself onto his bed, and made himself comfortable. Christmas spirit indeed... "Bah!" He growled aloud once more. Maybe that kid was right, he was a Scrooge. But for good reason. Any love he had for Christmas died the instant his beloved Maria passed away. She did it all. The decorations, the gift wrapping, the hosting, the dinners, and all with a smile on her beautiful face. So tied to Christmas were his memories of her, he couldn't bare to celebrate the season once more. It didn't feel the same. He only felt empty at this time of year... He mumbled some nonsense to himself as he fell into a deep sleep, unaware that the pain in his hip was gradually dissipating.

 ---------

Stan stood by, box of treats in hand, for several minutes as he debated whether or not to leave. He didn't really want to stick around. But he knew if he told his mom what had happened, she'd implore him to go straight back and spread a little cheer. Maybe the decorations would remind the old guy of those times spent with his family, and he'd be less of a Scrooge. The hardest part happened to be the easiest, as he found the plastic tree and a box of decorations behind the first closet door he opened. Perhaps the old geezer was going to decorate after all before his accident. Whatever the reason, all that was left to do was set it up.

It was a handsome artificial tree that looked like it had seen a lot of use. He could only imagine the Christmases that had been spent with this tree in sight. The joys of gifts, cheer and merriment. He could even see Geoffrey sat in an armchair, a tiny smile cracking his hard veneer as his sons opened up their presents from Santa. Year after year as the tradition moved from sons to grandsons, all fueled up with sugar and cheer as they ripped into gift wrapped boxes filled with toys and clothes and the occasional toiletry gift set. This tree had seen it all.

Stan chuckled to himself, giving his face a much needed scratch. His beard felt peculiar yet inviting. He'd been trying to grow one for Decembeard, and those increasingly cold nights, but it still grew in patchy. Or rather, it did until this very moment. Now it had blossomed into a fluffy delight that spread from cheek to cheek with a density he'd never experienced in facial hair. It left him with an odd feeling in his chest. Did beards just grow like that? An odd itch and persistent chill proved that wasn't all that was furry. His belly was gaining its own soft pelt of hairs. Stan had noticed since it now extended out from beneath his sweater, pushing it upwards to display its breadth. He chuckled nervously as he gave it a stroke. "I guess there's more than one way to grow up," he sighed. Geoffrey wanted him to reflect on Christmases Yet To Come. It was an odd wish, but one that seemed to be having an effect on him. He'd heard magic was writhe this time of year...

Now his body was feeling warm and cramped. His clothes continued to tighten around him like they shrunk in the wash. He really didn't want to, but he found he had no choice. Stan slipped his sweater off and tossed it aside, followed by his jeans which had to be peeled off of his burgeoning buttocks and thick thighs. He marveled at how much hairier he had become. Swirls of dark hair swept across his torso in an uninterrupted blanket. Deep in his rational mind, he knew this was impossible, and something that should terrify him. But those initial qualms were quickly fading away as quick as his hairline. He felt a breeze across his head. Reaching up, he stroked the top of his bald scalp with a slight frown. It appeared that woolly coating he'd obtained had all just migrated south of his head for the Winter.

Despite the uneasiness in his stomach, Stan couldn't help but marvel at his changes. It almost felt right to be so thick and hairy and mature. "I'm growing up," he said aloud. "I'm getting old. It won't be long until I'm as old as..." He gulped at the thought, briefly coming back to his senses. He didn't want to be old, right? He was losing his hair, getting fat, getting achey. And most importantly, he was losing his youth. This should have been terrifying, or at least concerning. Instead, Stan felt rather flustered. Everything about his failing body was turning him on. His cock had gotten hard, and to his surprise, it looked less than adequate. Was it his growing fat folds or was it actually getting shorter? As he held it in the palm of his hand, he swore he could feel it shrinking within his grip. A lustful moan escaped his lips at the thought. What if Geoffrey came back out to find him stripped naked and feeling himself up? It'd be so humiliating... The thought alone made him even more horny... But now wasn't the time for games! He had to hold off until he'd finished decorating. Why if his beloved could see him now...

Stan jolted upwards at the thought and sapped any lingering horniness at the roots. His cock even softened in his grasp, not even half the length as it used to be. Since when was he in a relationship? He was a single man, not for lack of trying. Yet thinking about it, he could see himself as a family man. Sat in his armchair as he watches his little boys open their presents from "Santa" with a knowing smile. Years passing by, decades, all spent in that comfy armchair as the belief in Santa spread from son to grandson to great-grandson. His loving wife by his side as she takes a break from slaving over the oven to accept that lovely necklace she'd had her eye on, or the garish blouse her sister had insisted he bought her. Then the many, many Christmases spent without her by his side. It was almost enough to give up on the whole thing...

Looking around, Stan spotted his discarded Santa hat. He reached down to pick it up, wincing as he felt a cramp in his lower back. He paused, and crouched down, his knees creaking as he grabbed the hat and stood back up. Creaky joints and back pain were all a part of getting old, he sighed. But looking around at what he'd already achieved, he realized something. He was getting old, but that didn't mean he had to grow up. He didn't want to be one of those old people who seemed to lack any sense of whimsy or joy. He refused to lose that joy! It would be a dishonor to his beloved wife if he gave in to the loneliness. She'd want him to celebrate all there was to be had at Christmas. Starting with the decorations.

The thought of all those Christmases yet to come put him in a better mood. There wasn't long to go until that Geoffrey guy came back. Then the real festivities could begin. He grabbed another ornament from the box and searched for the perfect spot to place it.

--------- 

Geoffrey tossed and turned in his bed. The nerve of that kid, thinking he could just waltz in with a box of cookies and demand he decorate his house for Christmas. Not the Christmas he knew, oh no. The proper, respectable tradition of remembering the birth of the Beloved Son. No, he wanted to bring in that sickening commercialized nonsense with all the bells and whistles he loathed. The second that lad was out of his hair, he was packing the whole thing back up.

How he wished he could go back, back to when he was celebrating with his wife and kids. As he sat in his chair and opened the gifts Maria had picked out for them under the guise of Santa. How he'd be given the usual bottle of whiskey or a box of cigars that would mostly go to waste as he found fewer moments to celebrate those big milestones in life... Then again, he'd never smoke a cigar in the first place. Smoking had been thoroughly drilled into his head as a dangerous, unhealthy endeavor and was seriously uncool. Now vapes. He'd smoked a few of those out of curiosity... Since when did he know what a vape was...

He shook his head to clear it. What nonsense was he thinking of. He was trying to remember his Christmases sat beneath the tree while his parents watched on with those patient smiles as he ripped open his gifts from Santa. It took him far too long to discover the truth, embarrassingly long. But that didn't ruin those moments when he truly believed. He recalled telling his fiancée all about it when they first started dating, and she laughed and laughed. That was when he knew they were made for each other. Lately he'd been thinking of popping the question, he just needed a ring... Wait, hadn't he already... What was her... 

It was the strangest thing. He could recall his days of youth with vivid precision. But anything past college was a frightening blur of vague details. And those vivid memories couldn't be real. He recalled opening Batman LEGO and a Jake the Dog toy as a kid, and the excitement of receiving a Nintendo Switch with a steering wheel add-on for bouts of Mario Kart as a teenager. But he was far too old for that junk. How did he even know what an Adventure Time was? Concentrating, he tried to recall anything at all about his life post college. But it was no use. All he felt was the pang of loss. Like he was forgetting something important. Someone important...

Geoffrey awoke with a start. Back in the same old bedroom he'd fallen asleep in. Old being an understatement. It felt familiar and yet oddly distant. A stranger's room. He felt less than refreshed, his mind foggy. Whatever he was dreaming, it was lost to the aether. He scrambled beside him for his glasses, only to come empty-handed. Though it appeared he didn't need them. Did he develop 20-20 vision in his sleep? Everything seemed so sharp and vivid in ways he hadn't experienced in years. He rubbed his head in awed confusion, followed by a "huh?" Was his hair usually this thick? A flash of memory told him he was thinning up top, yet his fingers didn't lie. It must have been that dream... He grasped at the covers and threw them off, the cool air hitting his bare torso. Why was he only in his underwear? And more importantly, where had these toned muscles come from?

Confused, Geoffrey jumped up from the bed and winced slightly. His back still felt sore from that fall last week. He thought he'd broken something from the way he landed. Luckily, he'd only bruised the skin, and his ego. It had definitely improved since then. He could walk upright, for one. In another week, he knew he'd be good as rain. The benefits of youth, he mused as he wandered over to the mirror in the corner. 

There he saw a young man of 22. Why he thought he was anything less, he didn't know. He licked at his bare upper lip, not fully understanding why he expected to feel the bristles of a chevron mustache. He'd only tried growing his facial hair once, and it came in so sparse, he vowed to never attempt it again until his stubble had fully filled in. He gawked at his reflection, giving his pecs a light squeeze as if he'd never seen his body before. Something told him he'd never been this athletic in his entire life, which was clearly untrue. He was the star of his football team back in high school, and still an avid gym-head now he was in college. He tickled the few hairs in between the solid mounds, picturing a far denser carpet of hair covering them. Maybe in another decade, but for now, he was smooth as silk. Not like that Santa brute... Santa who now? Another forgotten aspect of his dream maybe. Waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom alone was messing with his mind...

Lost in thought, a curious sensation brought him back to his senses - a wondrous, familiar smell in the air of nutmeg and cream. His mouth salivated at the scent drifting in from beneath the closed door. It wafted in from the kitchen. Of course, that guy was still here. Dan or Steve or whatever... Though something told him he was supposed to be here. The last thing he remembered was telling someone he was going to take a nap... No, he was going to get ready. Ready for what? Looking around, he didn't see any clothes that could have been his own. And he didn't feel entirely comfortable heading out of the room in just his undies. Or did he? It had to be why he was in a stranger's home in the first place. Didn't he accept someone's invitation to...

Geoffrey could hear singing now, Last Christmas. Low and rumbling and courageously off-key. The curiosity got the better of him, as it always did, and he decided to follow his nose out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He opened the door into the living room where he came face to face with a big surprise. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the room loaded with kitschy ornaments and multi-colored lights. Even more tinsel and wreaths surrounded the rest of the room, giving it a homely glow that it previously lacked. There, stood by the tree, was the mysterious stranger who'd shown up out of the blue and offered to provide some Christmas spirit. There was a proud grin across his cheeks as if he hadn't just butchered a Wham classic. "I hope you don't mind," The shaggy old man said with a satisfied smile. "I made some eggnog while I waited. So what do you think? Pretty festive huh?"

Geoffrey looked to the tree and decorations that now stood in the center of the room, then back to the hairy old man sipping from a ceramic mug, and asked the only question that came to mind. "Why the fuck are you naked!?"

"Technically, I'm not completely nude," Stan said with a point to the red hat on his head.

"You know what I mean!"

"What can I say? I've done a lot of growing up recently," he chuckled as he slapped a palm against his solid belly and gave it a shake. "Besides, the suit's for work only. I like the feeling of being au naturel when I'm in my own home. Feels good, you know?"

"No, this is my ho-" Geoffrey began to say before petering out. How could he be sure this was his home? Sure, he lived in this apartment building, but it wasn't this apartment. It was missing his own personal touches. It looked like the home of an old man, that was certain. And he wasn't old, was he? No, of course not. He was barely in his twenties, the prime of his life.

"You know, it'd be pretty nice if you joined me," Stan said with a nod of the head to Geoff's underwear. "This ain't my first rodeo, no need to be so modest. We can have a little fun before we get to the main event. Come on, I'll get you some eggnog."

Geoffrey hesitated before following him out to the kitchen where a small pot of eggnog sat steaming on the stove. The Santa look-a-like ladled a generous portion into a matching mug and passed it to him with a wink. He gave it a sniff, appreciating the vanilla spiced scent. He'd never been one of eggnog but this cup smelled almost nostalgic. He took a long, hard sip. It was warm, and creamy, and overwhelmingly alcoholic. He coughed as a stifling heat burned in his throat, and his head swam a little.

"It's my wife's recipe.  She used to make it every Christmas morn. It'll put some much needed hair on your chest. I used to look just like you before I met her," Stan chuckled to himself while Geoffrey steadied himself on the counter. "Pace yourself, there's no rush."

 "Heh, I guess..." Geoffrey chuckled uneasily. He didn't know why he thought he could drink such a boozy drink so steadfast. He'd only become of age just over a year ago, and most of his drinking consisted of cheap beer from the student bar. Clearly he'd overestimated his tolerance. Putting his cup aside for the time being, he tried to come up with some small talk. "So Mr. Carroll..." Geoffrey shivered briefly. Why did that feel wrong?  

"Huh?" Stan sputtered his sip of eggnog back into his cup and said, "No, that's your na..." He paused. "Uhm, my father's name. Please, call me Stanley. Or even better, call me Santa." He winked.

"Well, only if you call me Geoff," the younger man chuckled awkwardly. "So Stanley. Or, uh, Santa. What exactly are we doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? You wanted an up-close and personal visit with Rudolph."

"I...What?" Geoff cocked his head as Stanley subtly nodded his head downwards. Geoff followed his gaze until he locked eyes with 'Rudolph', and the old man reached down and gave it a soft stroke. A memory flashed before his eyes, of receiving some dick pics on one of his dating apps. Since when did he use those, anyway? It all felt so unfamiliar to him. Still, he smiled politely. "Oh, he's smaller in real life."

"Isn't he just?" Stanley smirked "I'd like to say it's Jack Frost's doing, but it's not the cold nipping at my nose." He squeezed the small nub with a soft sigh and tugged on one of his nipple rings at the same time. Was he getting off to this, Geoff thought. He felt flustered watching the silver-haired bear more than triple his age play with himself without a single care. Maybe it was the eggnog talking, but he was getting into it himself. He squeezed at his own cock through his underwear, feeling it get rock hard in his grip. He hadn't been able to get an erection in years... No, maybe Stanley hadn't. But Geoff had morning wood almost every day, not to mention afternoon, evening, and night. He was brimming with hormones, and was always in need of release. And seeing this horny old polar bear trying to get it up, he couldn't help himself. He reached out to Stanley, leaned forward, and planted a kiss right on the lips. Then his mind cleared and he stepped back immediately, cheeks flushed red. "Oh, I'm so sorry I-"

Before he could finish his apology, Stanley grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a far more passionate smooch. They stood lip to lip, arms bunched around the other. For Stanley, this was something he'd done many a time, and it showed. For Geoff, he was more focused on how the bear's bushy beard tickled his nose, how his hairy belly squished against his abs, and those nipple piercings chilling his own nipples. Eventually, the passion died down, and Stanley stepped back with a sigh. "I'm sorry, am I too forthcoming? I'm used to men with more experience. If I'm making you uncomfortable, we could-"

"No, no." Geoff stammered. He didn't know why this felt so peculiar. He'd kissed other men before. Even hairy bears like the man before him. Hell, he initiated the kiss in the first place! But this felt different, almost wrong... He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I've had experience. Plenty of it. Although never with someone so... Uhm, more experienced."

"It's okay, you can say old," Stan said with a hearty chuckle. "I'm an old man. Far too old to be fooling around with men younger than my grandkids, really. But it's always like this at this time of year. Younger men looking to experiment over the holidays. It's why I keep the hat on, because they're seeking out a Santa Claus of their own to have a little fun with."

It was sort of true, Geoff thought to himself. He was visiting his folks for the holidays, and was a little bored of the festivities. So he checked his dating apps to see who was in the same boat, and looking for a little festive fun. He wasn't expecting to see grizzled old Stanley Carroll baring it all, and in a Santa suit no less. Of course, the curiosity got the best of him, and they arranged a visit. He was surprised when the old bear even answered the door as Santa. Apparently, he moonlighted as the legend at the mall during the holidays, which seemed like a conflict of interest. But what he did in his spare time was his business, he asserted during that first meeting. He couldn't believe he was this close to fucking tha old man.

He had to prove he was committed. Geoff took another swig of eggnog courage before reaching down to his underwear and finally yanking them down in a single swoop, his cock bobbing up and down from the motion. Stanley raised his eyebrows and beamed underneath his bushy beard. "Well, that's a mighty big present you have there. Looks like you'll be coming down my chimney after all."

Geoff blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a little corny but he liked it. He tried to match the energy. "Uhm, I'll fill your stockings with all the presents you can handle?"

"Nice try," Stanley chuckled. He tugged on his little pecker as if he was surprised it had gathered the courage to show up. "Well ho, ho, ho, it's a Christmas miracle! Why don't we cut the pleasantries and get to the bedroom while I can still keep it up."  

Stanley took the young man by the hand and led him back through to the bedroom. He laid back on his disheveled bed with a mischievous grin as he rubbed his flabby, furry belly. He'd faced those Christmases Yet To Come, and discovered many new things about himself. He loved his family, he loved Christmas, and he loved sharing that love with others in exciting new ways. He just couldn't wait to get started. "You're been a naughty boy, young Geoff," Stanley growled in his deep, gravelly voice. "But Santa is feeling a little naughty himself... If you want to get back in my good books, you're going to have to prove yourself."

Geoff psyched himself up. He was about to have sex with a retired widower role-playing in his own apartment. He'd known the man almost his entire life, but up to this moment, they'd never a single word to each other. They didn't know each other, not really. But it was still a weird feeling. In fact, he'd felt weird for a while now. Ever since he woke up from that weird, fuzzy dream of Christmases Past... He'd never really been one for Christmas himself. It always felt too full of itself as a holiday. Although he could always come around to it, he was willing to open up to the Christmas spirit.

Despite his confliction, his cock was hard as ever. Geoff slipped a condom on, along with a bit of lube, and stepped up to the fat, elderly man he'd been so confused by. Stanley, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed as he lay on his back, readying himself for a good time. He spread his legs wide in a pose that could only be described as turkey-esque. Geoff stared down at his huge, flabby ass. He'd never seen a rear-end quite so hairy. He could tell it covered him all the way up his back. It should have been off-putting, but if anything, it left him eager for what was to come. He gripped both ass cheeks and spread them apart before aiming his rock hard cock for Santa's puckered asshole. He smirked as he felt the old man shudder and try to suppress a moan as he slowly slid his thick dick inside, pausing as he reached half-way. "You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," Stanley sighed. "Now why don't you be a good boy and show Santa just why I should consider putting you on the nice list."

Geoff smirked as he thrust his hips deep into the old man's ass, eliciting a welcome yelp in response. He pounded away smoothly, trying not to be so hard. He was worried about hurting the poor guy, not to mention the sore throb from his own bruised hip. But he could tell that Stanley was eager for something more punishing. Geoff was hypnotized by the way Stanley's belly bounced back and forth with the motion. "I've never fucked anyone so fat before," he said absent-mindedly before realizing he should probably zip his lips.

"I am fat," Stanley agreed. "I'm a fat and old and gray. I'm being fucked by a man younger than my grandkids..." He moaned aloud before insisting, "Berate me. Humiliate me. Please..."

Now this was a new experience to Geoff. "Uhm... You're so hairy, it's like you're wearing a sweater? Err... And your beard looks like you're compensating for your bald head... How long have you been bald? I bet it's longer than I've been alive. I bet it's even longer than my dad's been alive." 

"You'd be correct," Stanley said with a moan. "Bald before I turned thirty... I was so ashamed..." He sounded upset, but the way he played with his nipples and tugged on his tiny cock like his life depended on it let Geoff know he was on the right track with the teasing.

"How does it feel to be fucked by such a virile young man? Does it turn you on knowing I'm so much younger than you?" A nod and another moan. "I'm 22, I'm still in college. I have my whole life ahead of me while yours is nearing its end." He was starting to get cruel, and it felt good to talk smack to a man who was clearly getting off on it. "You look pathetic trying to get whatever pleasure you can from that nub you call a cock. It's been buried by decades of flab. You're so fat and out of shape. I bet you weren't even in shape when you were my age. Fat all your life... A thick musclehead like me shouldn't be degrading himself fucking a ancient freak like you. I'm only doing it out of pity. Cause nobody else is going to. Not to a senior citizen like you. Face it, you're never going to be young again, you'll never be as fit and agile as me. Your best days are long behind you. You grew up too fast, you've missed the prime of your life, and you'll never get to experience it ever again."

With a sudden and unexpected shudder, Stanley gasped and rolled his eyes back. His cock sputtered out watery ropes of cum across his belly before sinking back into a flaccid state. "Looks like... Santa came a little... Early..." He panted through ragged breaths that made Geoff come to a halt in his pounding. But Stanley tapped him on the arms and said "No, don't stop because of me. It happens when you get old, you get too excited and can't hold it back. It's embarrassing, isn't it?" There was a wild grin that suggested everything was going to plan.

"I... I guess..." Geoff didn't feel right continuing to fuck the man long after he'd finished. But he had to admit it did feel good. Besides, Stanley seemed to take it like a champ. He even stepped up his agility until, after a few minutes of sweaty action, he finally howled as he filled his condom to the brim. Satisfied with their coupling, they lay side by side, panting in the afterglow. Eventually, Geoff sat up and gave Stanley a small smile. "That sure was great, Mr. Claus. But I'm concerned you'll still put me on the naughty list." He trailed his fingers through the old man's white chest hair, pausing as he teased the rings on his nipples. "Do you think you have the stamina for a round two?"

Stanley snorted, and patted his hand away. "Ah, to have the endless stamina of a young man again! I just about made it through round one. Another go right now would kill me. Besides, I was lucky to get Rudolph to come out and play at all. I've run out of those blue pills, you see?" He sighed and ran a hand down to his crotch and gave himself a little squeeze. "See? Nothing. Don't get old, kid..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Geoff said with an apologetic smile. He couldn't tell whether this was still a part of his humiliation kink or he was speaking sincerely. They sat in silence for a few moments, then he asked, "You know, there's always space for one more at my parents' place for Christmas. I'm sure my mom would love it if you visited."

"Woah now, bud," Stanley said. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not looking for a relationship here. I can't be meeting your parents, I've got a good fifty years on you, at least! This was a one time thing. What is it you kids say... A booty call? I don't have much time left, certainly not for a single person."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Geoff chuckled. "I just thought you'd prefer some company that isn't trying to get into Santa's pants! Not that I'd object, of course. It must be hard being alone for the holidays."

"Well, it is tough not having my beloved Maria around any longer, especially at this time of year. She was Christmas nuts, and her enthusiasm rubbed off on me. It's what led me to become a mall Santa, so I can bring joy the way she brought to me... But life goes on. Christmas is up to the boys nowadays. My youngest grandson's handling things this year. He's had a new addition to the family and I can't wait to see his little face."

"Oh, so you're a great grandfather, huh?" Geoff said almost in surprise. "That must be exciting."

"One of three great-grandkids," Stanley smiled. "The eldest turned seven last month, if you can believe it! I still remember when he was about the size of my hand." He held it up to his face before dropping it down to give his shaggy beard a contemplative tug. "It's the best part of getting old. Your family getting bigger, the festivities getting more hectic. It keeps you on your toes."

"Huh, I suppose it does," Geoff smiled. If he were in Stanley's boots, he would've given Christmas the boot. But seeing him embrace and celebrate the memories of his loved ones made his heart grow three sizes that day. Maybe this was the Christmas spirit that he needed to embrace. "Christmas isn't the time to wallow in the past, wondering what could have been. Nor is it worrying about the future and what could happen. It's about the here and now, spending time with others. That's why it's the present."

"Ouch!" Stanley rubbed his jaw in a comical fashion. "I'm all for sentimentality but that was some tooth-aching corn!"

As the two men laughed together, Stanley took a look at the young man sat next to him. He had his whole life ahead of him. Not like himself. There was a sense of loss, as if he'd lost something precious to him, but he couldn't remember. That was happening far too often nowadays. Getting old wasn't all fun and games. But he wouldn't change it for the world. He'd lived a long and fruitful life with a loving wife, bore two sons who each bore two sons of their own. People come and go, but there was no time like the present.

He nodded to Geoff and said "I see you're still have some Christmas cheer to spread," nodding at the man's solidly erect penis. To still have a working cock... "Well, I may not be ready to receive another stocking stuffer, but there's more than one way to satiate a craving, and I am desperate to get a taste of your candy cane."

 Geoff rolled his eyes and chuckled at the barrage of puns. "Well, I can't say no to Santa, can I?" Stanley grinned as he shifted his weight down, spreading his lips wide as his white beard buried Geoff's Pole like a blanket of snow. He could tell there were going to be many opportunities to spread Christmas cheer this holiday.