A New Year's Story

Nastya's family had long had a tradition of celebrating the New Year and spending the holidays at their dacha. It started when the dacha was just a plot overgrown with bushes and a small, stubby house on it. Over the years, the plot was cleared, apple trees and currant bushes appeared, and the modest little house was replaced by a large two-story cottage with a fireplace, a spacious living room, and cozy rooms for all family members and even a couple of guests, should any drop by. As a child, Nastya saw the annual trips to the snow-covered dacha as a forced duty, but as she grew older, she came to appreciate the coziness and quiet of a country holiday.

/> This year was no exception. All day, Nastya and her parents walked through the snowdrift-covered forest and went skiing, and in the evening they all sat together at a long table, nibbling on the treats left in abundance from the New Year's feast. For the holiday, Nastya was allowed a glass of sparkling wine, or even a couple. And when Nastya went upstairs to her room, leaving her parents chatting downstairs, her head was already pleasantly spinning.

Nastya affectionately called her room "my little nest," and it was terribly cute. Small and cozy, it comfortably held a desk, an armchair, and a wardrobe, but most of the space was taken up by a high sleeping loft, piled with pillows and covered with a huge, fluffy duvet. The walls were covered with drawings, posters—in short, like any young girl Nastya's age. Her parents respected their daughter's right to her own space, and Nastya couldn't remember a single time they had entered without knocking.

So, after dinner, Nastya went up to her room, closed the door to her "little nest," quickly changed into soft flannel pajamas, and climbed into bed. Pleasant, quiet music started playing from the speaker on the desk, and Nastya rummaged in her backpack, leaning over the edge of the bed, and pulled out a bottle of soju she had meant to drink on New Year's Eve but had somehow forgotten about. Sitting on the bed and scrolling through her social media feed, Nastya didn't even notice how the sweet and deceptively light drink was finished. Only when she leaned over to put the bottle on the floor did she realize she was quite tipsy. Her head started spinning, and Nastya fell back onto the bed, pulling the warm duvet over herself. Her consciousness was pleasantly foggy, and Nastya wanted to enhance and prolong these sensations. She began stroking her chest, stomach, thighs, and finally slid her hand between her legs. The elastic of her pajama pants restricted her hand's movement, so she pulled them down to mid-thigh. The fingers of one hand moved slowly and gently in the warm wetness of her "bud," while her other hand stroked her small breasts under her pajama top. Her nipples hardened with each touch, and the soft fabric of the pajamas brushing against them sent shivers and a pleasant chill through her body. Rocking on these waves of pleasure, Nastya, without even noticing, drifted off to sleep, not even realizing when her connection to reality snapped.

Nastya woke up just as smoothly and easily, not even realizing she had fallen asleep—it was as if she had just closed her eyes for a minute and then opened them. However, something around her had changed, subtly yet on every level, from the smells to those very pleasant sensations in her lower abdomen from the caresses. But above all this hung a strange feeling she couldn't quite identify.

Understanding came belatedly. That mysterious feeling was the sensation of someone else's presence nearby. And a new, strange, not unpleasant smell, the changed temperature in the room, an inexplicable rustle weaving into the quiet musical background. Nastya instinctively pulled the duvet higher, as if seeking protection under it from the presence she now felt in the room. And then, in her alcohol-slowed brain, a bright beam of a new strange observation flashed: she was clutching the edge of the duvet with both hands, yet the gentle caresses below her stomach were still continuing. Realizing she had been staring at the ceiling and hadn't even thought to look around the room, Nastya slowly lifted her still-spinning head and stared with sleep-blurred eyes toward the foot of the bed. And... she simply froze. Sitting on the bed directly opposite her was a huge, burly figure. Nastya's vision finally focused, and she saw the stranger in all his detail. A wide, bright-red sheepskin coat trimmed with snow-white fur. A wide, lush fur collar seemed to merge with the visitor's thick gray beard. His head was crowned with a red hat with the same fur trim as the coat. From amidst the clouds of white fur and the rings of his beard, as if from thick steam, cheerful, even mischievous eyes looked at Nastya. Putting all the details together, Nastya, with a strange certainty she didn't understand herself, realized—sitting on her bed was the real, genuine Ded Moroz. Her mind, still in a semi-foggy state, lost all ability to analyze and critically perceive information and simply registered what was happening. So, Nastya soon understood that she owed those gentle caresses, which were still continuing and, combined with the alcohol, were preventing her from thinking straight, to this very Ded Moroz, who had slipped his hand between her legs and, smiling at Nastya's face, continued his very pleasant manipulations.

Despite the surrealism of it all, Nastya, on some instinctive level, tried to pull away from the nocturnal visitor. She failed, firstly because her body wasn't exactly obeying her well, and secondly because Ded Moroz's hand gently pressed her hips to the bed.

— Shhhhh..." hissed Ded Moroz, putting a thick index finger of his other hand to his beard where his lips should be. "You'll wake the whole house.

This "Shhhhh" had a strange effect on Nastya; she actually calmed down and froze. Her brain refused to offer any ideas about what else she could do. Perhaps in a couple of minutes, Nastya would have thought of something, like screaming, but then Ded Moroz's fingers resumed their caresses, not just resumed but intensified so much that Nastya almost lost consciousness.

Once, a long time ago, Nastya's friend had shown her a head massager. Thin wires with rounded tips at the ends slipped between the hair and, running over the scalp, caused powerful waves of goosebumps all over the body. Nastya liked it so much then that she ordered one the same day, but quickly realized that when she used it on herself, it was nothing like the sensations when her friend's hand did it.

On the fifth time, Nastya's whole body convulsed. She squeezed her thighs together convulsively, trapping Ded Moroz's hand inside her, and a fine tremor began to shake her. It was her first orgasm.

When the convulsion passed, Nastya went limp and stretched out helplessly on the bed. Her head was spinning and buzzing, her whole body relaxed, and her gaze grew hazy. She didn't feel his hand leave her wet, slick vagina, nor did she resist when strong hands completely pulled off her pajama pants and spread her slender legs wide apart. Nastya didn't see Ded Moroz kneel before the bed, firmly grasp her hips, take a deep breath, and bury his face in the girl's crotch. Nastya jolted as if struck by electricity; she thrashed in Ded Moroz's hands, but he held her firmly, penetrating her tender girl's slit with his tongue. Nastya would have screamed, but she stuffed her fist into her mouth in time, and only muffled moans escaped her chest.

Whether she had another orgasm, she didn't even know herself; at some point, on another wave of pleasure, she simply lost her connection with reality.

When Nastya could perceive the world around her again, she found herself lying on her side on the bed, with Ded Moroz sitting beside her, a red mountain towering over her.

— Did you like it?" Ded Moroz boomed. "Did you like my gift?

— Yes," Nastya whispered barely audibly. "It was very nice.

— You know I only bring gifts to good girls," Ded Moroz said more as a statement. "You are a good girl.

— Yes, of course, a good girl," Nastya smiled.

This dialogue didn't seem strange to her in the slightest; she had long since lost the ability to tell if this was all happening in reality or if she was dreaming. Her consciousness simply decided to accept what was happening as normal.

— Then you must thank Ded properly. I won't ask you to recite a poem, but you'll still have to work with your little mouth.

Ded chuckled at his own joke, stood up, and began unbuttoning his wide red pants.

It must be said that Nastya was neither a prude nor a prig. She had watched porn a hundred times, which filled the internet, and understood perfectly well what "work with your mouth" meant. Moreover, from that same porn, she had an idea of what should follow the foreplay and was internally prepared for it. There was just one problem—she had never done it before, and she was terribly embarrassed about it. Being a virgin at her age she considered acceptable, but she didn't want to admit to anyone that besides a couple of deep kisses, she had no other experience with the opposite sex. She often thought that she should start a relationship with someone so that everything would happen beautifully, romantically, and tenderly... But her peers seemed like stupid boors to her, and adult men, whom she admittedly sometimes glanced at, didn't yet perceive her as a potential partner. And now, to show this adult, clearly experienced man—even if he was a magical Ded Moroz, however incredible that seemed—her complete ineptitude, she absolutely did not want to. So, while he was wrestling with his pants, Nastya gathered all her resolve, remembered everything she had ever seen online on the topic, and knelt on the edge of the bed, turning toward Ded Moroz, who had finally dealt with the buttons and pulled his pants down to his ankles.

Nastya was seeing a penis up close for the first time. It was slightly aroused, resembling a small sausage, and was making funny movements, as if about to rise higher but then changed its mind and fell back down. And here Nastya got confused. She simply didn't know how to start. It seemed silly to try to catch it with her mouth; that is, she needed to take it with her hands, but how to grab it without causing pain? She needed to decide something, and quickly. And Nastya decided. She reached out her hand and took Ded Moroz's penis in her hand. To the touch, it wasn't as hard as she expected, and Nastya immediately worried she had squeezed too tightly, but Ded gave no indication of discomfort, and she guided the penis toward her mouth. And here Nastya messed up. Internally, she had prepared to confidently wrap her lips around the member and start sucking, licking—in short, everything they did in adult films. But at the last second, for some reason, she hesitated, immediately panicked, and, to do *something* instead of just standing there with a dick in her hand, simply licked the penis with her tongue sticking out of her slightly open mouth. In that same instant, Nastya realized how foolish she looked and timidly raised her eyes to Ded Moroz. He stood there, hands on his hips, openly amused. Under the gaze of his laughing eyes, Nastya wanted to sink through the floor.

— First time doing this?" Ded asked.

— Yes..." Nastya forced out, blushing even more and averting her eyes.

— Well, that's fine, don't be embarrassed about it. If you don't know how, no problem, I'll teach you. You do want to learn, don't you?

— I do," Nastya muttered.

— Then ask me to teach you.

— Teach me," Nastya repeated after Ded.

— Teach you what?

— Teach me to suck," Nastya couldn't hide her embarrassment.

— Suck what? By the way, don't forget to add 'Grandfather' at the end. And don't be shy. Let's do everything properly.

Following Ded Moroz's instructions, Nastya got on all fours on the bed, facing him, deeply arched her back, thus thrusting out her rear, and Ded even pulled up her pajama top to fully expose her buttocks. Nastya threw her head back, looking up at Ded from below.

— Please teach me to suck your cock, Grandfather," she said with all the sincerity she could muster.

— There! That's more like it!" Ded approved. "Open your mouth.

Nastya obediently opened her mouth, and Ded slowly inserted his penis into it.

— Oh!" Ded sighed with pleasure. "Well, get to sucking.

Ded took hold of Nastya's hair and in one motion thrust his cock so deep into her mouth that the girl simply choked on it. This didn't seem to bother Ded in the slightest, and he continued to ram Nastya's mouth with his member, pulling it out and then slamming it back in fully. To prevent Nastya from pulling away, he held her firmly by the hair. The pace kept increasing. Nastya wasn't sucking his cock like at the beginning; now she was simply and plainly being fucked in the mouth. Ded was no longer her gentle lover—he was selfishly satisfying his passion, using Nastya's mouth as just some technological orifice. All of Nastya's strength went into not suffocating. At first, she tried to breathe through her nose, but for some reason, it didn't work. Nastya had no choice but to open her mouth wider to let in at least a little air along with Ded Moroz's cock. She focused on managing to inhale during the brief moments when the cock stopped blocking her throat. But just as she adjusted to the rhythm of the thrusts, Ded stopped acting like a jackhammer and began moving his cock in her mouth slowly but very deeply. Now Nastya strained with all her might not to gag. Despite all this torment and the feeling of complete helplessness, Nastya felt herself so aroused that streams of lubrication began to trickle down the inside of her thighs. From the lack of oxygen, from the effort she expended to maintain her initial position, not to choke, and simply from the intense sexual arousal, Nastya's head began to spin, and her thoughts lost clarity. She barely understood what was happening around her when Ded suddenly stopped moving his cock and ordered:

— Open your mouth wider and keep it open.

Nastya was sincerely glad for the respite and readily opened her mouth as wide as she could. Without hurrying, Ded Moroz laid his thick, saliva-shiny cock on Nastya's face. To herself, Nastya marveled at how such a huge thing had fit in her little mouth, but she continued to stand meekly in the same position, diligently arching her back. Ded slid his cock up and down Nastya's face, slapped the heavy head against one cheek, then the other. Then, just as slowly, he inserted his cock into Nastya's obediently gaping mouth and rubbed it against the inside of her cheek. Then

Ded froze and let out a long sigh full of relief and pleasure, and his cock began to fill Nastya's mouth with a warm, viscous substance. Ded pulled his deflating cock from Nastya's mouth and looked at her with pleasure as she still knelt before him on all fours, her bare bottom thrust out, her mouth open and full of semen.

— Good girl, I love such obedient girls!" he said, gently patting Nastya on the cheek. "You can swallow.

Nastya swallowed everything in her mouth without protest. She felt no unpleasant taste or any other negative emotions. The semen simply slid down her esophagus, leaving a slightly salty aftertaste on her lips.

— Now lie on your back, spread your slender legs, and show Grandfather how you learned to pleasure yourself. I hope you remember how I did it?

Nastya sank back onto the soft bed with relief; only now did she feel how tired and stiff the muscles in her back and neck were. Her head was buzzing, and pink circles floated before her eyes. Without thinking, obeying Ded Moroz's words, she spread her legs apart. She touched her fingers to her labia; they were hot and wet. No, not wet—soaked, dripping with lubrication. Nastya inserted her index finger into her hot slit; it slid in easily, meeting no resistance, and she immediately added a second finger and began moving them inside. Waves of arousal began to crash over her one after another, completely overwhelming Nastya. In the end, another surge of pleasure simply switched off Nastya's consciousness, and the orgasm came in her sleep.

In the morning, Nastya woke up feeling completely wrecked. She found herself half-naked in just her pajama top; the pants were lying somewhere at the other end of the bed. Her lower abdomen felt sore and achy, and the bed was damp. Goodness, it's a good thing no one can see me now, Nastya thought. What a shame. And then, in her heavy head, memories of the strange dream began to surface