Dear Santa,
I hope this letter finds you well! I know it's a little weird to still be asking you for presents at fifteen, but this is a special case. I know you'll probably have some concerns, but I think if you'll hear me out, you'll agree with my request.
I want a vibrator for Christmas. The sex kind.
First and foremost, I think that the record shows that I've been a good girl. I get straight A's, I'm respectful toward my elders, and during my last few vacations I've been volunteering at the library. And, just so you know, I'm still a virgin.
It's also worth mentioning that this gift will help me remain a good girl. My family just moved to Boston and I'm having trouble making friends. People here are really rude about Texas accents! The one friend I have made is trying very hard to get into my pants, and... sometimes I'm tempted to let him. He's really good looking, and while I don't love him or anything, sometimes I think it would be nice just to have someone. Sometimes I don't wear underwear when I see him, just to see if he'll say something. I know it would be wrong to do it with him, but it seems like my body is always screaming SEX! SEX! SEX! at me.
So, you're probably going to say that a vibrator is an adult toy - not suitable for kids. But think about it: I'm no stranger to orgasms. There have only been a handful of days in the last several years where I didn't get myself off. Even before I figured orgasms out, when I used to sit on my Dad's knee (my real Dad), I knew that it felt really good to rock back and forth on it. (Surely with as many kids as you have sitting on YOUR knees, you know all about that!) So it's not like this would be some big change in my life or some loss of innocence. I already have lots of orgasms; a vibrator would just make them easier, faster, and better!
And let's face it - you're kinda famous for giving BB guns to stupid clumsy kids, so clearly you're willing to trust us enough to make our own decisions.
Oh, and another thing: it would also kinda be a present for my ex-bf Rico Davis back in Texas. We're not boyfriend-girlfriend any more because we know that's impossible with the distance between us, but we do still video chat, and sometimes do *stuff* together. I want him to see me come, but every time we try it, he's done way before I am, and then he loses interest.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, Santa. And if you still have any reservations, please write back so that I can persuade you!
Sincerely,
Sarah Matheson (formerly Sarah Acker)
Boston, Massachusets (formerly Amarillo, Texas)
Dear Sarah,
I don't normally respond to letters - there are so many - but I was impressed with the maturity with which you made your case.
I'm afraid I can't give you the gift you're asking for. While it often involves guesswork, my policy is not to give out gifts of which a child's parents would disapprove.
There are also some logistical hurdles that can't be overcome. Of course the North Pole engages in strategic partnerships with various companies to provide toys like video games and cell phones, but those partnerships take time to set up. And while we're proud of our local artisans, there is, frankly, nobody here who would know the first thing about vibrators.
I will try to find you another gift to bring you a less controversial sort of joy this Christmas.
Holiday cheer!
Santa
Dear Santa,
Thank you so much for writing back!
But I don't buy it! Nobody knows anything about vibrators? What about Mrs. Claus? She must have some long lonely nights when you're out travelling across the whole world. And surely there must be some lady elves who like to take matters into their own hands!
As for my mom and stepdad - they think of me as their little girl, and I don't want to ruin that for them. But they're in no position to complain about a little old vibrator. They've got a shoebox full of pictures: My mom wearing a Cowboys jersey, face paint, and nothing else leaning against a couch and getting smashed from behind while watching a football game with a dozen other people. Or my stepdad all bondaged-up, with his dick in some kind of metal torture cage.
By the way, I don't know how that whole "sees you when you're sleeping" thing works, but every night between now and Christmas I plan to sleep in the nude, above the covers. Just sayin'.
Sincerely,
Sarah Matheson
5 year yoga student
Dear Sarah,
Since you invited me, I did look in on you while you were sleeping once or twice. I must say, Texas sure does breed lean young women. Be sure to bundle up in those Boston winters!
Did you know you squirm while you sleep? Time and again I saw your hips moving gently back and forth. I won't speculate what's in your dreams that makes that happen.
There is no Mrs. Claus, but I do have a number of lady friends who appreciate a man who can respond very quickly to a late-night text.
As for elves, good leadership requires a certain distance from subordinates' personal lives, I'm afraid. But after discussing your suggestion with one of my toy designers, I was invited to observe their after-shift festivities.
In their work attire elves look very much like human children, apart from the ears. Without their clothes, elf women have a frankly confusing blend of child-like and adult characteristics. I have to wonder if they are the inspiration of a certain modern Japanese art style.
To compare the male elves to human men is to do them an injustice. Every single one of those little guys had a long, thick candy cane that would be exceptional even among human pornography. It's a wonder that the elf females could fit any portion of those things inside them. Believe me, there's nothing like seeing a four and a half foot tall child-woman getting every hole stuffed balls-deep by fourteen inch elven beef logs to make you believe in magic.
Elven merry-making culminates not with moans and grunts, but with laughter. For as long as I can remember, I've been assuming that the nightly joyous noises coming from the Elf Quarter were a perfectly ordinary sort of mirth. Now I know that I've been sipping my cocoa and reading my books to the sounds of elf orgies.
Thank you for helping to educate me, Sarah.
Good Tidings!
Santa
Dear Santa,
OMG! I have to see these elves! Do you need any volunteers? I'll do anything - shovel up reindeer poo, anything! What are things like in the summer? Do you need an intern?
Enough about elves - let's talk about you. A girl in every port, huh? Santa, you playa! Anyone I know?
Well, since you're being so kind as to check in on me, the least I can do is keep things interesting for you. I'd be happy to take requests if there's anything in particular you'd like to see.
For tonight... I think I'm going to borrow some of my mom's coconut oil. First I'll take a bath so I'm fresh and pure. (Virgin, remember?) Then I'll cover myself head to toe with oil, rubbing it everywhere until my whole body shimmers. Then, I think I'll fuck myself until I'm exhausted. I'll make myself come, and come and come - probably in all sorts of different positions. Of course, it would be easier with a vibrator! Then, when I ache all over from the pleasure and I can't make my fingers move any more, I'll do my best to fall asleep on my back, with my legs spread wide, putting it all on display.
Sincerely,
Sarah Matheson
Heavy sleeper
Dear Sarah,
Your demonstration was rousing - so much so that I made an emergency text to one of my lady friends. And yes, you do know her: Miss Clarissa from your local library.
I don't have to tell you that in public she is a proper lady and an impeccable custodian of knowledge. At work, although she wears blouses and skirts that flatter her sizable bust, wasp-waist, and and earth-goddess hips, her hair is always done up in a bun, and her eyes are always hidden behind cat eye glasses. I can assure you, though, that in private she lets her hair down. Suffice it to say that Miss Clarissa is a member of "The Chimney Club".
Over milk and cookies we discussed your request while we waited for my festive spirit to return. Don't worry, I didn't reveal your identity. As luck would have it, Clarissa was an expert on the subject - the owner of a vast collection of sex toys, modern and antique. She demonstrated a great many, and even tried a few out on good ol' Nick. I found some of them to be uncomfortable but surprisingly pleasant.
I'm not a young man, but several times I managed to deck her halls - once even up on the rooftop. We only stopped once the sun began to rise, and she prepared to leave for the library to read to children. It seems that Clarissa, like you, has a penchant for occasionally forgoing underwear and bras.
Through all of this, I've been rethinking your gift request - although I still can't make any promises. But I am faced with a new dilemma. I hadn't realized that there were so many different kinds of vibrators to choose from. What sort is it that you want?
Are you looking for a wall-powered wand massager with enough strength to shake your bed while it mercilessly crumbles your tiny stiff gingerbread cookie?
Do you want something small and discrete that you can take with you to school, so you can jingle your bell in the girls' room between classes?
Would you like a vibrating dildo with a bent tip so that you can stuff your stocking and reach your G-spot?
Or perhaps you were thinking about remote-control vibrating panties so that your gentleman friend in Texas can send you off caroling no matter where you are, ready or not: math class, family dinner, riding your bike, stocking shelves at the library, church....
One more thing - you mentioned being willing to indulge a request. You know, of course, that I'm all about good children, but Miss Clarissa and I engaged in a bit of role-play. I very much enjoyed watching her turn red as I bent her over my knee swatted her like a ho-ho-ho. Now I find that I can't stop wondering what that tight little Christmas ham of yours would look like, given the same treatment.
'Tis the Season!
Santa
Dear Santa,
Wow, um, I hadn't realized that so many types of vibrators existed! I honestly have no idea! Maybe you should see Miss Clarissa again and ask her what would be best for me. You can tell her all about me, if you want. It sure is too bad that we can't both visit Miss Clarissa and benefit from her "wisdom" together.
I'll see what I can do about the spanking. It's surprisingly difficult to spank yourself. And what am I going to do? Sass off to my stepdad and then drop my pants and insist that he punish my butt? After a little bit of Internet searching, I think my best bet is to use my hairbrush. Wish me luck!
Sincerely,
Sarah Matheson
Potential budding nymphomaniac?
Dear Sarah,
I'm afraid I owe you an apology: it's my fault that you woke up Christmas morning sticky.
I had decided that it would be best to leave your gifts in your bedroom, given their personal nature. So I saw you, in person, sleeping like an angel but with an oil-covered bright red fanny that shined like Rudolph's nose. (Leaving the hairbrush handle lodged up in your pumpkin pie was a nice touch, by the way.) I just had to touch it, as well as your long lean candied yams, and your perky teenage sugarplums.
At that point, I think you'll understand, that I had to pull out my yule log and stoke it. Temptation weighed heavily on me.
I touched my finger to your pretty peach lips, and to my surprise, you opened them and sucked gently on the tip. You also rolled onto your back, exposing your entire heaving chest and flat tummy. I couldn't help it - I spread my holiday cheer all over you. I'm sorry. Honestly, I was surprised by how much cheer came out: by the time I was done you were frosted like a cookie. If it's any consolation, though, I'm told that my glaze is delicious.
I do hope you enjoy the gifts. There should be enough variety to keep you busy for quite some time, but if not, there's always next year.
I've got H.R. and legal working on an internship program. Don't make any plans for the summer until you hear back from me.
Merry Christmas!
Santa