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The mall bathroom smelled like industrial cleaner and cheap air freshener, the kind that barely masked the underlying stench of piss and regret. Walter adjusted the red velvet pants around his thick waist, the elastic digging into his belly as he wrestled with the costume's stubborn suspenders. Sixty-two years old, and here he was, playing Santa for minimum wage plus whatever sad tips parents tossed into his fake donation bucket. He scratched at the wiry white beard glued to his face, the itch a constant annoyance.
The door creaked open, and Walter froze mid-adjustment. A kid, maybe six, with messy brown hair and Spider-Man sneakers, walked in alone, barely reaching the urinals. The boy didn’t even glance at him, just marched up to the nearest basin and started fumbling with his zipper. Walter watched, his pulse suddenly loud in his ears.
"Hey there, champ," Walter said, forcing a chuckle into his voice. His palms were already sweaty. "You here all by yourself?"
The boy glanced up, his cheeks flushing pink as he struggled with his jeans.
"Uh-huh. Dad says I'm big now." His voice was high and bright, oblivious.
Walter's gaze dropped to the sliver of underwear visible at the boy's waistband, dinosaurs, maybe? His throat went dry.
"Big boys do use the bathroom alone," Walter murmured, stepping closer.
The stall door was half-open behind them, just in case. He kept his voice syrup-thick, the same tone he used for whispering fake Santa promises to kids on his lap.
"Need any help there, sport?"
The boy shook his head, fingers finally tugging his zipper down.
"I got it." But his jeans were a little too big, sliding down his hips just enough to show the elastic waistband of his underwear, blue, with tiny green dinosaurs.
Walter's breath hitched.
"Well, ain't you independent?" Walter chuckled, moving closer, pretending to adjust his own belt. "Santa loves helpers, you know. Especially good boys like you."
He let his hand brush against the boy's shoulder, casual, testing. The kid didn't flinch, just focused on aiming into the urinal.
Walter's pulse hammered as he watched the boy's tiny fingers struggle with his waistband. The dinosaur print stretched tight over his round little ass, and Walter's cock throbbed against the scratchy fabric of his Santa pants. He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Y'know, Santa's got a special present for helpers. Wanna see?"
The boy blinked up at him, curious.
"A present?" His jeans sagged around his thighs now, the urinal flushing automatically as he turned slightly toward Walter.
The overhead lights caught the sheen of piss still glistening on his little dick, soft and pink against his smooth skin. Walter's fingers twitched.
"Mmhm," Walter purred, already working the buttons on his own pants. "Santa's magic sack's got all kinds o' surprises."
He let the red velvet drop just low enough for the boy to see the thick curve of his cock pressing against his underwear. The kid's eyes widened, not fear, just childish fascination. Walter grinned behind his beard.
"You ever see a grown-up's Christmas candy, son?"
The boy shook his head, his tiny hands still gripping his jeans. Walter reached down, slow, giving him time to bolt, but the kid just tilted his head like a confused puppy.
"It's bigger'n mine," he said, matter-of-fact, and Walter almost laughed at the innocence. His fingers brushed the boy's hip, feather-light.
"Well, that's 'cause Santa's gotta carry *all* the presents," Walter murmured, tugging his underwear down just enough to let his cock spring free.
The kid's breath hitched, not scared, just amazed. Walter's stomach clenched with heat.
"Wanna hold it? See how heavy it is?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded, reaching out with one small hand. Walter guided those tiny fingers around his shaft, swallowing a groan as the kid's grip tightened experimentally.
"Whoa," the boy whispered, stroking clumsily, his knuckles brushing the wiry curls at Walter's base. "It's all squishy."
Walter bit back a chuckle, adjusting the boy's grip with a gentle nudge.
"Yeah, but watch—" He let his hips roll forward slightly, just enough to make his cock twitch in the kid's palm.
The boy gasped, delighted, as if he'd discovered a secret toy. Walter's beard hid his grin.
"See? Gets harder when Santa's excited."
The boy squeezed again, fascinated, his thumb rubbing over the slick tip where pre-cum pearled.
"It's wet," he murmured, nose wrinkling but not pulling away.
"Magic reindeer juice," Walter lied smoothly, letting out a shaky exhale as those small fingers explored.
He glanced toward the bathroom door, still silent, no footsteps, then back down at the kid’s flushed face.
"Y’know what helpers get to do with Santa’s magic candy?" He didn’t wait for an answer, just guided the boy’s other hand to his balls, heavy and warm.
"Good boys get to taste it."
The kid hesitated, chewing his lip like he did when his mom offered broccoli. Walter pressed his thumb against the boy’s bottom lip, nudging gently.
"C’mon, champ. Just lick it first, see if ya like it." His voice cracked a little.
The boy’s tongue darted out, tentative, swiping once across the swollen head. Saliva mixed with pre-cum, shiny on his Cupid’s bow lips. Walter groaned, hips jerking forward.
"Atta boy. Suck it now, like a candy cane ."
The kid’s nose scrunched at the musky-salt taste, but he wrapped his lips around the tip, sucking clumsily. Walter cupped the back of his head, so small his fingers tangled in that baby-fine hair, and guided him deeper. The boy gagged, spit dripping down Walter’s shaft.
"Easy, easy," Walter murmured, stroking his cheek. "Just the tip, sweetheart. Santa’s gotta be gentle with his helpers."
His own breath came in ragged bursts now, watching those innocent lips stretch around him.
A noise outside the bathroom, voices, and laughter made Walter stiffen, but the boy kept sucking, his eyelids fluttering as if he’d discovered a game. Walter’s fingers tightened in his hair.
"Good boy," he whispered, voice rough. His hips twitched forward, just an inch, and the boy’s throat convulsed around him.
The sensation shot lightning up Walter’s spine. He glanced down at the kid’s jeans, still pooled around his ankles, and spotted the faintest bulge in those dinosaur briefs.
"Aw, look at you," he cooed, thumbing the damp fabric. "Santa’s helper’s gettin’ excited too, huh?"
The boy pulled off with a wet pop, cheeks flushed.
"It feels weird," he mumbled, squirming as Walter traced his hardening little cock through the cotton.
Walter chuckled, guiding him toward the last stall, its door half-ajar. The tile was cold under their feet, the air thick with the scent of sweat and boyish innocence.
"Weird’s good, sport," Walter rasped, peeling the kid’s underwear down just enough to free his stiffening length, no bigger than Walter’s thumb. He spit into his palm and wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks, pressing them together. The boy gasped, hips jerking.
"See? Santa makes helpers feel real nice," Walter murmured, stroking slowly, their slick skin sliding.
The boy’s breath hitched in tiny, hitching whimpers, his hands clutching Walter’s sleeve. Outside, footsteps echoed, then faded. Walter’s grip tightened, thumb rubbing the kid’s dripping tip in circles.
"Gonna give Santa your Christmas present?" His voice was syrup-thick, watching the boy’s legs tremble.
The boy nodded frantically, hips stuttering. Walter grinned, twisting his wrist just so, the kid gasped, back arching as he spilled over Walter’s fist, sticky and warm.
"Good boy," Walter groaned, jerking himself faster now, the sight of those glazed-over eyes pushing him closer.
He guided the boy’s limp hand back to his cock. "Help Santa finish, yeah?"
The boy blinked up at him, dazed but obedient, fingers wrapping loosely around Walter’s throbbing shaft. Walter glanced toward the stall, the toilet seat cold and utilitarian. Perfect. He shuffled them backward, pants pooling around his ankles as he sat heavily onto the porcelain. The boy wobbled, still unsteady from his climax, but Walter caught him by the hips, pulling him close.
"C’mere, champ," he murmured, breath hot against the kid’s ear. "Santa’s got one last present for ya."
His cock twitched against the boy’s bare thigh.
Walter spit into his palm again, slicking himself up before guiding the boy to straddle his lap. The kid’s legs were short, his knees barely reaching the edge of the seat, but Walter adjusted him easily, spreading those smooth cheeks with one hand while the other lined himself up.
"Easy now," he crooned, pressing the boy down slowly. The kid whimpered, fingers digging into Walter’s shoulders, but didn’t fight as the thick head breached him. Walter hissed, the tight heat clenching around him like a vice.
"Atta boy," he breathed, rocking upward just enough to sink another inch deeper. The boy’s breath hitched, tears welling, but Walter shushed him, petting his back.
"Santa’s gotcha. Just ride it nice n’ slow."
And the boy did, trembling thighs shifting as Walter helped him bounce lightly, the wet squelch of spit, loud in the cramped stall. Walter’s hands gripped his waist, guiding the pace, his own hips jerking up to meet each tiny thrust. The kid’s face was flushed, lips parted in silent gasps, his little cock half-hard again from the friction. Walter groaned, tilting the boy’s chin up to meet his gaze.
"Look at you," he rasped, thumbing the kid’s lower lip. "Santa’s best helper."
The boy’s eyelids fluttered, and Walter couldn’t hold back anymore, with a grunt, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside that clenching heat. The boy yelped, overstimulated, but Walter held him close, riding out the aftershocks with a satisfied sigh.
"Merry Christmas, kiddo," he murmured, patting his back as the bathroom door creaked open somewhere beyond the stall.
Footsteps echoed, heavy.
"Allen? You done in here?" A man’s voice, impatient.
Walter froze, his softening cock still buried inside the boy, who stiffened in his lap. Walter quickly lifted him off, wincing at the wet slide.
"Shhh," he breathed, pressing a finger to the boy’s lips.
In one swift motion, he hooked his legs up, boots pressing against the stall door so no shadow would betray them. The boy wobbled, pants still around his ankles, but Walter steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Pull ‘em up quick now," he murmured, voice barely audible.
The kid fumbled with his jeans, fingers shaking, Spider-Man sneakers squeaking on the tile. Walter yanked his own pants up just as the footsteps paused near the sinks.
"Allen?" The dad’s voice was closer now, but not moving. Walter exhaled through his nose, heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"Here, Daddy!" The boy called out, surprisingly steady. Walter grinned, giving his shoulder a proud squeeze.
Smart kid. The dinosaur underwear was crooked, but his jeans were zipped. Walter wiped his glistening thumb on the boy’s sleeve, no evidence.
The dad huffed. "C’mon, let’s go. Your mother’s waiting." No footsteps came closer. Walter peeked through the stall gap, just a silhouette near the exit. Perfect.
"Okay!" The boy chirped, already stepping toward the door.
He bounced out of the stall, sneakers slapping, and Walter let his legs drop, feet hitting the floor with a thud. He waited, listening to the dad’s grumbling.
"Took you long enough," with the door swinging shut.
Silence. Walter leaned back against the tank, fishing his half-hard cock out again, stroking lazily. He could still smell the kid’s shampoo, something fruity, mixed with the tang of sweat and sex. He closed his eyes, replaying the way those tight muscles had fluttered around him.
"Fuck," he muttered, speeding his hand.
The Santa beard itched against his chin as he came into his palm with a groan. He wiped it on the inside of his red velvet pants, and buttoned up. The mirror showed flushed cheeks, but that could be the damn mall heating. Walter adjusted his hat, humming "Jingle Bells" under his breath. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.