Date: Sun, 21 Dec 2003 22:15:49 -0600 From: gloryhole JUNKIE gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com Subject: Whoring With Dad 8b: A Special Holiday Installment

Whoring With Dad 8b: A Special Holiday Installment "A (Thick'n' Creamy) White Christmas at the Ho'Ho' Holiday Mall"

By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER:

Holiday shopping can be fun. It's supposed to be fun. But its neither the time nor place to wag your penis at kids who may stand along side you while at the urinals in a department store men's room. (Hey, believe it or not, yeah...we have to explain these sorts of things to some fellas out there)!

Not that there should ever be such a time or place, of course, but choosing to do so during the Christmas shopping season would be considered particularly bad form. Oh, and its illegal, too!

NEVER expose your turgid reproductive organs to anyone under the legal age in your community. Heck, actually, don't even grope yourself (even if your zipper's up) should a tyke be within eyeshot.

And if you have been hired as a department store Santa this Christmas - perhaps because you secretly love having countless kids hop on your lap (lets be real after all...who else signs up for the job), be smart and don't cop a feel of them as they ask for toys. That would be really tacky...and again illegal. And try your best not to get a huge raging boner within the red velvet suit as they squirm on your lap. Again, although understandable, it's a bit tacky (and again ILLEGAL). Don't confuse their request for a "joystick" with opening your trousers and offering them yours. It's holiday time, after all...damn it!

If you're a dad and prone to getting off on your darkest, most secretive sexual impulses, you are bound to take your tykes into the men's rooms at various stores and malls this season. Nothing much "we" can do about that (heck, what if they ask you to take them in, after all). But its not appropriate to linger in the public toilets hoping for "action" while in there with your son. And its not quite "Christmas-spirited" of you to, while with him (even if he can't reach the urinals), scope out each stall until you find the one with the huge gloryhole in it.

Sure, crowds of handsome families and busy department stores toilets get a man revved'n'randy. But its never appropriate to use the holiday toilets for anything more than adult-adult homosexual quickie public trysts. Sure, go right ahead and beat off or get a blowjob in a stall quickly if you must. Hell, have a mall orgy with other shopping dads in the men's rooms! But leave the little ones outside... with mom!

Or better yet, forego your boner's "needs" for one afternoon! Instead, concentrate on crass commercialism and you'll be alright (and be helping America at the same time)!

SIMPLE GUIDELINE: You over age 18? No have-a-the-sex with minors!

See? That ain't so hard (compared to whats in your slacks, at least).

Masturbate to this tale all you like. But once "unloaded" of that daddymilk in your scrotum, ZIP UP and get back to the tinsel and caroling!

PREFACE

It was terrific growing up when I did. It was an era when most major cities' downtown areas were run down and run over with dirty XXXs - those perfectly sleazy and service-oriented places where men (in droves) would pop in for a bit of quick morning-noon-or-night scrotal relief.

It was a time where the "secrets of the suburbs" were still secret. Where cupcake-baking wives (having no clue about the afternoon dad-orgies in the local woods) didn't know what their hubbies were up to all afternoon while "running errands" on the weekend!

'Twas a glittering epoch of homosexual back row orgies in any XXX cinema - especially those showing hardcore straight porn. A time when aisles were sticky from semen, not soda.

It was a time when every chick under thirty wasn't wearing a thong on t.v. or pulling up her T-shirt flashing "boobies" at the drop of a hat for the cameras. In fact, Jane Russell pointing to a brassiere on a headless mannequin was considered a rather "tasteless" and racy television commercial back then.

And it was the Golden Age of Tearoom Sex. It was the height of the sexual revolution - an exultant time for the gloryhole! Heck, from coast-to-coast there was hardly a men's room that didn't have a "blow hole" for the guys!

Sex in those days (...my son) offered every straight man an opportunity to blow seed into a tearoom "sex worker" - that one special guy in a stall who'd service the whole rush hour crowd by being constantly there to provide 'em with regular nut-busting bjs! Such service-providers would man a gloryhole all afternoon (sometime 'round the clock) providing relief to countless anonymous cocks needing to unload.

Businessmen stood on line for that one special stall with the gloryhole. Holding their briefcases and their loads till it was "their turn" to screw the unknown chops in the train station toilets (many would even have to take a later train simply because they had to wait for the others ahead in line to pop a wad, too, in that public-use mouth before heading home).

And no department store or mall toilet was without its requisite gloryhole and ample homosexual trysting. Even the finest of stores only differed from lesser stores by the slabs of men they offered within their toilets. A change in demographics, lets say, rather than any noticeable change in the sexual goings-on. Upscale mall toilets merely promised executive-level men wagging their thick dicks while unzipped from tweedy trousers; whereas lowly department stores offered thick, working-man dicks unzipped from cheaper polyester slacks!

Men old enough to remember can attest to the fact that such places were continually crowded and offering of sexual fun. It barely mattered if a place were quiet or not. In fact, many times the best sex was within the most bustling of men's rooms! For it was a time when people didn't give a "little old lady" hoot about what fellas did while in the public facilities. Guys "understood" one another or just looked the other way. It was that era just before nosey, litigious-bent Watergate changed America forever!

I share memories of the toilets of that time with men many years (decades) older than myself because I was a tot with a hungry appetite for men's room chow! Whereas other men may have been forty years of age or older "back then" - more typical users of the tearoom - I was but a little kid who came upon that wondrous world at a very precocious age. I was in the midst of this heralded tearoom age only because I was the youngest kid in the joint! Had I discovered the Joys of the Men's Room at a more "appropriate age", even in my late teens, I may have missed out on the full glory known as "PUBLIC TOILET SEX" (heavens forbid)!

Those men who were there know that amid busy shopping or rush hour travel, the men's rooms would be packed with men milking themselves in full sight of dozens of other men at the urinals. Or guys would be occupying every one of the ten stalls in the mall bathroom - tapping foot and all that. Hell, you'd think there were a Mexican restaurant on every corner the way those stalls would be occupied every second of every day!

And most importantly perhaps, it was an Age Preceding the Security Camera! Yes, a time when a store had perhaps...maybe...one mounted at its exterior entrance to actually catch "shoplifters". A time when it didn't much occur to Security men to mount one in front of every men's room door. It was that wonderful Age before the whining soccer mom demanded a camera be trained on every adult male who may enter the store.

Security, (operated solely by men back then) in fact, knew all about the fun in tearooms - some even participated. They knew it was the way dads killed time while their wives tried on shoes. They knew it was how most young kids learned about blowjobs or got their rocks off for the first time. They knew it was how older men got their hottest sex thrills once in retirement. They knew nothing much "bad" ever occurred in a men's room - well, nothing a guy would consider to be "bad".

So as one entered a department store, there were barely a pair of eyes watching a man move from men's room to men's room. No one much knew for how long a man was in any particular men's room. Even if the Elizabeth Arden rep may have spotted a man entering a men's room, (if she even thought anything of it to notice, that is), that same cosmetic girl would simply presume she must have missed the man's "exit" minutes later (people were actually working and not staring at doors back then, lest we forget). A penis-cruiser could spend hours in a busy facility and remain undetected by all but those men looking for chops to screw.

And no one was thinking about those two older men who entered the tearoom off the China department only moments after a little cutie had entered it. And no one gave any thought to those three high school boys who made it a regular afterschool ritual to get head from that nice man in the men's room at the local SEARS store. People were living their lives rather than watching others' every move. And life was better in most regards then.

And at Christmastime, the men's rooms, like the stores they were in, would surge in their busyness! Sure, men would be shopping for perfume for the wife or for toys for their kids...but that didn't stop them from popping in for a quickie in the men's room! In fact, the swell of shoppers simply assured men that there would definitely be a cocksucker in one of those stalls.

And it was the best time for the whole family to get into the tearoom "act". When teens had to "shop for mom and pop"...and just coincidentally used the free time instead to spend an hour sucking off men in the toilets at Macys!

Its when moms, shopping for daddy while he'd be at work, "had" to let their young sons go into the men's rooms alone where they'd easily come upon three men wagging their dicks at 'em ("Ever see ones this big, cutie?").

It was when families would take one car to the mall, separate for an hour to do some "private shopping". Mom would go that way; sis would go this way; dad would head thataway and sonny boy would dart o'er theresabout. And fifteen minutes later, who can say whose semen the kid ate under the stall partition in the men's room? ("Heeyyyyyyy! Wait a minute...come to think of it...weren't those my dad's shoes?"). Or whose got a huge cock for such a young'un dad's thinking as he sucks down that unknown dick through the gloryhole at Lord & Taylor ("Holy, moly! Wasn't that my kid's school logo on that jacket as I just saw his back when he darted out??")!

Ah, the wonders of the season!

And such antics regularly went on within the flagship Marshall Fields store on State Street in Chicago. A huge, cavernous, grand department store built in a by-gone era. Where one could buy herring or a mink coat; the finest of suits or a tube of lipstick; a grand piano or a blender. And its men's rooms were among the best and busiest in all the city!

If it offered ten men's rooms on its many floors, ten were continually cruised. Place fifteen cruisers in each men's room at any one time (and that might be a conservative number), you had at least one-hundred and fifty fellas all at once in the place jerking, wagging, showing, peeping, sucking or shooting cum under Marshall Fields noble roof. Multiply that by its ten hours of operation daily, and, well, it could have offered semen-for-sale if Fields had only known how to market it.

But in fact, they did know how to market it - by making it free and easy for men to use their restrooms (shall we say) to their complete satisfaction. If the sex in their toilets drew a man in and he bought a tie on his way out - so much the better for business! If it satisfied a dashing middle-aged man while his wife and daughter looked through countless wedding gowns...better than his getting grumpy and demanding they move along to (god forbid) I. Magnins! Fields, early on, realized their busy toilets kept men happy...and coming back (so to speak)! Its always good for business to have great tearooms!

Sadly, though, those are memories of Christmas Past for the most part. Today, although there are still moments and pockets of such tearoom frolicking, its been dampened considerably by the advent of whiners and technology. A quick wag of a dick here, a fast suck of dick there may be all one encounters within most shopping mall men's rooms today.

Fortunately for my masturbating readers, its back within this wondrous Christmas Past that we continue our holiday tale...

Whoring With Dad 8b: A Special Holiday Installment "A (Thick'n' Creamy) White Christmas at the Ho'Ho' Holiday Mall"

By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com

It was a beautiful day as we drove the short distance to State Street. Like an early Christmas gift to the city, the sun had returned after several dreary days of heavy snows. The gleam was blinding as the light glinted on the snow piled along Michigan Avenue. Although it was frigidly cold, people wearing furs or fedoras along the festooned sidewalks walked with holiday energy as they window-shopped.

I stared at the back of the head of the taxi driver from where I sat in the back seat and would have leaned over the seat to try to grope him had my dad not been there. Not that the driver was a handsome man but he was dark and swarthy and looked like he might have a lot of daddymilk in him! But just as I thought of sucking the man off, I spotted some carolers on a corner and got distracted from my carnal hungers.

My dad pointed a be-gloved finger at them and said we would be at Marshall Fields in no time. Traffic was much heavier as we tried to make our way over to State Street. In fact the traffic jam stalled all movement until my dad told the driver to simply let us out where we idled.

"Its only another block or two", he said to both the driver and me. "We're hale and hearty...we can walk."

He handed the driver a big bill and told him to keep the change as we both got out of the cab. I had to jump over some heaps of snow where the plow piled it in the shadows of one of the downtown buildings. But that was fun! My dad and I were on an adventure and all the snow mounds made it seem even more credible that we were venturing to the North Pole to see Santa Claus!.

Once on the sidewalk, we joined the crush of other shoppers making their way to State Street with its many major department stores and wonderful Christmas windows. We came upon a window and peered through the crowd to look in. It was a fully animated scene of The Nutcracker Suite. I was mesmerized by the opulent detail and heard parents all around me coo as they described the story to the children.

My dad took me by the hand and tugged me along as he saw an opportunity to make our way in through the revolving doors. Under an aristocratic green canopy we entered Marshall Fields...and somewhere inside was Santa!

We were met with the fantastic aroma of a mix of fine perfumes, some for sale and others wafting from the grand ladies in mink who swirled around the many large counters as they shopped Cosmetics. As we walked deeper into the store, one began to smell that rich scent of Italian leathers in Fine Accessories. I never knew luggage could smell so good!

The ceilings soared high, moldings all gilded and the marble walls so smooth and elegant that one felt a purchase here made one royalty.

My dad said he wanted to find a men's room so we could comb our hair again and take a pee if we had to. I simply followed him, holding his hand, not wanting to get lost in the crush of the crowd. We went up the escalators and then up some more and then some more until I lost count of what floor we were on exactly. We walked through bedding and towels until we were heading toward a far corner where other men were also directed. Suddenly we found ourselves in a discreet corridor leading directly and solely to a men's room.

It was enormous! Up until that time, it was the largest bathroom I had ever been seen in my whole life. I know I had to have been in it before this visit since we went to Fields many times a year since I was a baby, but this was my first clear and concrete memory of the men's room.

It was only a little after ten in the morning but already the bathroom was bustling with men. There were perhaps six or seven sinks beneath a row of mirrors on one wall; eight or so urinals along another wall; and as I was about to discover, a row of eight stalls hidden around a corner from everything.

I glanced at the urinals as my dad held me by the hand. A man in woolen topcoat and hat occupied each. One or two looked over their shoulders at me as we passed. One even stepped back slightly and for a flash of a second, I saw his big penis dangling out of his trousers!

Even though all the urinals were taken, they'd have done me little good had they been free since they were mounted so high on the wall. They were definitely urinals intended only for adult men. Perhaps that's why my dad was taking me to the stalls, where I could more easily aim into a toilet bowl!

All the stalls had their doors closed and locked. My dad shook his head with a slight smile and said we'd have to wait. As we stood there I wondered why every stall was taken since it was so early... and didn't men have bathrooms at their houses?

As we stood there, just feet outside the row of stalls, one or two men would mosey on over, slowly walking passed each door and then back again. One very tall man in a dark blue banker's coat even stopped at one of the doors and I thought I saw him peaking in! When I looked at my dad, he just shrugged and asked me if I was hungry and what I might eat when we got to the Walnut Room.

A minute or two later, one of the stalls opened and a bald man emerged. He quickly walked passed us and went around the corner to the sinks. The tall banker was nearer the door but as he saw us standing there, he motioned for us to take the stall instead. My dad nodded and brought me into the stall with him.

As dad closed the door and latched it, I happened to look all about the small chamber. No gloryholes in these stalls at all. In fact the walls were made of thick marble. But as I looked down, I spotted an oxblood dress show like mine own -- only much bigger -- and another black shoe on the other side that was the sort older businessmen wore.

Why was everyone going to the bathroom at Fields at ten in the morning, I pondered?!

My dad opened his coat all the way and said he had to take a pee. I watched as he reached for the tab of the zipper on his dress slacks. I would have pulled it for him if he'd asked. I watched as it went down slowly and then he pulled out his big penis.

I didn't think I was staring but I may have been as he aimed his thick meaty cock at the toilet water and began to pee. I turned my head and was almost even to his belt buckle. I then looked up and saw him looking down at me with this smile on his face. He pissed and when done, shook his lengthy penis several times then shoved it back into his slacks.

Then without even much asking me, he took my coat and scarf off and hung them on the hook on the back of the door. "You go to the bathroom if you have to...", he said.

"I don't think I have to go", I said.

"Well, lets do this anyway", he said, "Try to go so we don't have to leave the line for Santa when the time comes! You don't want to miss out on Santa because you suddenly have to use the bathroom, do you?" My dad then put the toilet seat down and wiped it with toilet paper.

"No, we can't miss SANTA!", I said with some consternation. "That's why we came today!"

"That's right, Kev", my dad replied as he pulled down my pull-up pants and then my underpants. "You sit here and go if you have to...I'll only be at the sinks and will come back when I think you're done. That okay?"

I nodded as I hopped up onto the cold toilet seat. "Okay but I don't think I have to go, daddy."

"Well, try", he said. "Better to try than lose our place in line for Santa Claus!" My dad slipped out of the stall, closing but not latching the door. The door was one of those heavy older doors that stayed closed even when not locked.

I sat there in the stall, looking up at the light bulbs high overhead dangling from the vaulted ceilings. The marble was white and cold and pretty. I wished I had to go potty but really simply didn't. I sat and sat and looked around some more. Suddenly I saw the oxblood shoe to my left, beneath the marble partition, moving a bit.

It moved again. It almost looked like the man might have had a cramp in his toes as they wiggled a bit within the dress shoe. I thought it was sort of funny. My feet didn't even reach the floor so I thought it was funny that this man must not have known anyone was inside my stall watching his silly, jerking foot movements.

But his toe cramping must have been really bad because he started tapping his foot more and faster. I felt bad for him because I thought he must have been in bad need of some relief.

I sat there some more, slightly kicking the toilet with the heels of my shoes as my little pants and underpants dropped to my shoes some more. All of a sudden I felt something on my right calf! It took all the restraint I could muster not to scream as I looked down and saw it was a big hand reaching from beneath the other marble partition! Some man, the one in the shiny black shoes, was grabbing lightly at my little leg!

I was startled but excited at the same time and quickly I got a woody as I sat there trying to be very quiet and yet hoping my daddy wouldn't suddenly return to the stall. That might get this stranger into trouble!

As if with great expertise, the man's arm reached further up and up my leg. I squirmed a bit as his large hand tickled along its way. I didn't quite know what he was doing at first but as his reach made it closer and closer to my knee, I scooted forward spontaneously. And that allowed the man's hand to continue its journey. I stood up for a moment and allowed the stranger to find what it had been seeking. This large hand took hold lightly of my seven-year-old boner and then fondled my scrotum! It felt wonderful!

His nudging hand then directed me to pivot, pants at my ankle, to my left. As I did so, the man, without even being able to see me, felt me up between my smooth thighs and cupped my small buttocks. His hand ran along each buttcheek and then his index finger glided along my buttcrack. In an instant, he slowly but deliberately shoved that finger separating my little buttocks as it did so.

Knowing what he was looking for, I bent over a bit, making it easier for the man to play with my child's rosebud. That always was fun when men would put their fingers up in me. And this stranger was no exception as he seized his opportunity and shoved a thick middle finger up my tight boyhole.

Just then a shadow filled the frame of my door and the man's hand and arm retreated quickly back to his own stall. I sat back up on the toilet bowl figuring it must have been my daddy just outside the door. I waited and waited ...but maybe that wasn't my daddy.

Christmas music played away as I sat there wondering what to do next. My daddy had told me not to leave the stall but to wait until he came back. So I just sat there some more listening to Jingle Bells playing in the background.

All of a sudden, my stall door opened just enough to let in a tall figure wearing a dark blue cashmere overcoat. My daddy was wearing a camel colored overcoat! Who was this? Just as quick as that, this tall man - the man in the banker's coat I saw earlier peeping into stalls - stood in front of me with his index finger at his lips. He latched the door. Although he appeared tense, he seemed more determined than anything.

As he continued to indicate to me to be silent, he opened his coat and held it open with his left hand. I could see the man had a big penis that was tenting in his suit slacks! He patted his lips with his finger a few times demanding I remain silent as he then quickly reached down and unzipped his slacks. He pulled out a very long cock with that foreskin so many older men had. I think, despite his bold gamble, he was still surprised as I reached out to feel his meaty organ. Without any expression, he presented it to me as if he somehow expected a seven-year-old, perhaps just this one, to know what to do with some forty-something year old's throbbing erection.

Fortunately for him, he was right. He stepped a couple of steps closer and put his cock to my lips. This man wanted some head from a little kid at ten in the morning...with Santa Claus somewhere in the same building!

Perhaps it was due to the great risk he was taking or perhaps more simply because of the man's great excitement, but it did not take much to get this man ejaculating. As it squirted hot and tangy into my mouth I tried so hard not to miss a shot of his sperm since I was wearing my special Christmas outfit to see Santa. I knew I couldn't get any stray semen on it! The man almost seemed to recognize that himself as he cupped his large hand under my chin catching any semen or saliva that might ooze and escape from my little mouth. He certainly had parental instincts even as he copulated with the throat of a boy in just the first grade.

And as quickly as he unloaded, without even a word or zipping up, he closed his coat, unlatched the door and slipped out in a major hurry. I sat there tasting the man's sperm on my tongue as I felt warm all over and never wanted to leave Marshall Fields...ever!

Not more than a few seconds went by when the man with the cramping foot surprised me when he hit his knees and shoved his erect penis under the marble wall. Maybe this is why so many men were in the bathroom here. Maybe they didn't all have to go to pee or poo! It was like the zoo... only classier!

I tried to lean forward to feel the man's boner but was too short. So I hopped off the bowl and squatted as I wrapped my tiny fist around the man's very hard shaft! I leaned some more and lapped at the piss slit oozing out precum. As I did, I felt a hand on my small buttocks again. It was the man in the other stall again. He was leaning low and reaching far in to feel me up as I licked the other penis like a melting ice cream cone. The hand reached between my legs and gently milked my childish erection and fondled my small nuts. A finger then prodded up into my little anus again, finger-fucking me as I suckled the drooling head of the other stranger.

We all heard a cough suddenly, a sort of clearing of the throat. I instantly recognized it as my dad so I hopped up and back onto the seat. The men hurriedly rushed up to their respective toilet seats, only the clunk of one belt buckle giving anything away. Then there was another cough from my dad and then a light rap on my door.

"Can I come in?", he said in a light-hearted tone. "Coming in..."

The door opened slowly as my dad entered and closed the door again. "Get the job done, sport?" he asked as he grabbed my coat off the hook.

"I didn't have to go really", I said in a quiet voice.

"Well as long as you tried", he said. "Come on, lets get a move on...we got us some shopping to do!"

I stood up and pulled up my little underpants and slacks. My dad helped me tuck in my shirt again as I straightened my tie that was pushed to one side by the penis of the banker, I suppose. Dad then opened my coat and I reached my arms through. "I'll carry your scarf for a while", he said. "I don't want you to get all over-heated or anything today. Your mother would never forgive me!"

We exited the stall and immediately some other man jumped at it, shutting and latching the door. We went to the banc of sinks and dad turned on the water for me and then helped me to re-comb my hair. He took my hand and we went back into the department store...this time on a mission to buy presents.

We went to the vast food emporium and dad bought jars of caviar and special smoked fish and crackers and champagne. He then bought numerous boxes of Frango mints per my mother's instruction. We then went to the coat checkroom and checked our coats and packages for the afternoon before heading over to the Walnut Room where we had reservations for lunch.

The line was long but festive for entry to the famed Walnut Room. Through Victorian-gothic interior windows one could see the grandeur of the enormous Christmas tree which was the room's centerpiece. Dining under the tree was one of the great Chicago traditions during the holidays.

My dad held my hand the whole time as we chatted about my favorite Christmas song (I now loved Jingle Bells!). Periodically the wife of the family in front of us would flirt with my dad a little asking if we were alone...nosing about to see why we had no mom with us! They'd chat and she'd giggle a bit as her husband politely fumed and her kids rolled their eyes in total embarrassment. But it was nothing new to me. Everyone flirted with my dad everywhere we went. He was that sort of "handsome".

Soon the captain took our name and escorted us to one of the best tables in the place - one right at the base of the towering tree! How wondrous to look up at the lights and myriad ornaments.

We ordered and my dad offered a toast to the holidays and to my mom who was missing such a wonderful and special day! I sipped my cold milk and wished it were more warm semen from the daddies at the next three tables.

The waiter caught me staring at his crotch for a moment but just winked at me when he asked if I was ready to order. He, too, seemed to spend more time at our table than at others. I guess he must have been flirting with my dad, too since dad never had to ask twice for more coffee!

Elves wandered about the room handing out little chocolates and gifts to each table and if we hadn't visited him already, reminding us that Santa was not far away in his castle! The whole lunch was so magical and I even recall burping slightly (even though I knew it was impolite to do so in public I couldn't help myself) and I tasted the mixed semen of the two men I had sucked on in the bathroom.

The waiter brought around a luxurious dessert cart loaded with confections and pies and cakes and all sorts of assorted gooey thing! He stood there, almost blushing as he described how this one was cream-filled and the other thing was all sticky and delicious. Even my father had to chuckle as the young man blushed while pointing at a particularly thick and super long eclair!

When I pointed to a gigantic blizzardy sundae that came with candycanes on top, I happened to look past the waiter, and saw the banker at a far table across the room! He was facing me and his eyes quickly diverted my glance. He was sitting there with his wife donning a huge hairdo with a fake poinsettia in it...along with five of their children (also at the table...not in her hair, that is).

He was a real life daddy who slipped into my bathroom stall earlier. Why did daddies have to put their penises in little boys mouths when they have pretty, over-dressed wives like he did? And he had to be a real man because he had all those kids. So why was he in a men's room looking for a blowjob?

My dad asked me what I was staring at and he turned his head to look at the man and his family. Perhaps he remembered the man - as he also saw him peep into a stall - but all dad said was, "That flower looks awfully silly in her hair, doesn't it?"

I giggled and soon our desserts...and then the check came.

Without our coats and bags, we felt much freer to stroll through the throngs still lined up for luncheon. We weaved our way to an elevator and rode it down two flights. Packed into the car, my shoulder was crushed into the crotch of a much older man the whole time. I didn't mean to but I had no where to move. I looked up and the man with graying-white hair who just smiled a bit as he nudged his crotch back into my shoulder. The doors then opened and we all flooded out so quickly I never even saw where the man went!

There were toys stacked in piles and over-sized candycanes and many Christmas trees strewn about. This was an especially special floor I could just tell! "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" sounded overhead and it was the first floor that seemed equally jam-packed with children as with adults! I could sense we were nearing our destination!

Then just a few yards ahead I could see a glistening castle gateway! Oh! It was Santa's Castle! Not long before I could get to see SANTA CLAUS! Who'd have known it was he who was only minutes away from having ME on HIS lap?!

More treats to cum...

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