Naughty list?  Yup!  Little billy’s name is on it!

Naughty list boys may not get any toys, but they still have to answer directly to Santa.  That’s what I told my little Billy as we headed to the mall to go see him in person.  He really should take being on the naughty list more seriously.

Billy said, “Oh mom.  Santa’s not real.  It’s just some guy in a suit.”

I only smirked and lead him to the long line.  Well actually, there were two.  So the long one lead to a jolly old saint Nick in his iconic white beard, red suit, and huge chair.  All of the little ones who had known they’d been good all year eagerly waited their turn.  Then there was a shorter line that lead into Santa’s workshop.  There was a sign over it that read ‘naughty list’.  That’s the line I took Billy in along with all of the other mommies with difficult sons.

“What’s the point of this line?” he asked while not even looking up from his zombie-killing phone game.

If he’d bothered to at least have a look at the faces on the other boys, he might be been more worried.  Every other child seemed cautious about what was going to happen, except for one.  One had a huge grin on his face.  Either he was in the wrong line, or he liked being bad.  It was his turn next, and sauntered inside wearing his little elf costume with the shortest skirt I’d ever seen.  When he finished and came out, his smile was still there, but the panties he was wearing clearly weren’t, and something was dripping down his leg.  Again, billy was clueless — too busy playing on his phone that he never even thanked me and his father for.

Soon it was Billy’s turn.

“This is as far as I go, Billy.  Good luck.”

“Yea, yea,” he said barely looking at me.  “Whatever, ma.”

The interior was decorated festively, but there were no presents.  Santa sat in a huge chair on the opposite side of the workshop.  He patted his lap.  “Ho, ho, ho!  What’s your name, little boy?”

“There’s no way I’m sitting on your lap.  You’re just a weird old man in a suit.”

“Ho ho ho!  What do you mean?  I’m Santa,” he chuckled, “and these are my elves.”

Then the door closed behind little Billy and five or six black guys stood along the wall wearing unconvincing, cheap green elf costumes and huge grins.  They all went for Billy who, with nowhere to run, was at their mercy.

“Ahh, stop!  Mom!” Billy shouted from within the soundproof room.  “What are you going to do to me?!”  Billy’s eyes got wide.  “Are you going to have sex with me?”

“Ohohoho!  I only fuck good girls and boys.  My elves on the other hand,”  “They love breaking in naughty little boys like you.  And they’re going to do it until they get a name.”

“Bil…!” he gagged.

However, a cock stopped Billy from saying his full name and his tongue slid until a massive, salty, stinky cock began to work his mean little front-fuck-hole.  That hole wouldn’t be the only one getting some attention today, either.  His pants slipped around his ankles and he felt something just as big push against him.

I sat on the bench filing my nails and talking among the other mommies as I waited for billy to be done, and the service did say that visiting times may vary depending on how bad the child is.  I wasn’t surprised it was taking him so long.  Sure enough, 20 minutes later, Billy emerged from the workshop.  He looked worn and his clothes were a little messed up, but he seemed no worse for wear as far as I could see.

“Are we ready to go?”

“Yes, mother.”

So polite.  I wasn’t expecting such a swift turn-around!

So, are you a Billy?  Or are you an eager naughty boy who wants to be on Santa’s naughty list?  Either way, the cure is the same.  Call my phone sex line to find out what Santa does with you.