Another wonderful Christmas. Aside from the two final tasks that lay before me - one self-assigned, the other directed by the wife - every aspect of the day had already been a success.

Our four-year old twins, Jenny and Julie, were in bed, quite asleep. They had been finally worn out with their new toys, their grandparents' daylong visit, and the late Christmas Eve church service the evening before. My wife, Cindy, had asked me to clean up the wrapping paper and packages strewn about the tree while she drove her parents back to their home in Mt. Norton, about thirty miles distant. At their age, driving at night was becoming a challenge.

I paused in my primary activity to scan the living room, with its wrapping and ribbons scattered about as though a tornado had just ripped through. This had been a good year for us all. We had many blessings to count, and the bounty of our children's Christmas was a mark of that. I honestly felt that this past year had been a gift from heaven.

This notion reminded me that it hadn't been such a good year for everybody. Our nanny, Marta Rivera, had been deported in August. Talk about unlucky. In the middle of the most permissive immigration regime in decades, somehow she had found herself in ICE's crosshairs, and had been deported back to Peru. Thankfully, they had taken her into custody at her at her own apartment, and she had categorically refused to discuss who had been employing her, so my wife and I had completely dodged any legal difficulties or fines - you see we had financially supported the President's challenger in the last election, and so such fears were not unfounded.

Marta had known they were closing in on her. That is why she had approached us, asking for our assistance in one matter. We had agreed, and for this reason I had known not one moment of concern that Marta would breathe a word of our hiring her.

As a result of this pre-arrangment, when the agents had shown up to apprehend her, they found Marta alone. They found no one else, nor any trace of anyone else. Marta had been sent back to Peru and difficult economic circumstances alone.

Days earlier Maria, Marta's thirteen-year-old daughter, had moved into our basement guest bedroom, along with all her worldly belongings. Marta had wanted to ensure that no matter what, Maria would grow up in the United States, and especially not have to return to her home country. You see, Marta had intimated, without coming right out and telling me, that Maria was not safe back in Peru, where her uncle had been wont to take certain inappropriate "liberties" with the young girl. In fact, this had been a major reason for Marta's illegal immigration to the U.S. in the first place.

I recall the very last instructions Marta had given her daughter, on that fateful day when she had left for her own apartment and a date with deportation. She had made it very clear to Maria that no matter what might happen with ICE, Maria was to obey us in everything, and to never give us any reason to send her back to South America. The cute little teen had nodded her head gravely, and answered "Si', Mama."

Sweet little Maria had never given us the slightest cause for concern, for she was a very obedient and quiet girl. She helped Cindy with the twins, as well as some of the cleaning and cooking. She was also helpful to me in more important ways, and a delight to look at. She was small for her age, with little bobbin breasts and a narrow-hipped bubble butt. Her finely chiseled, exquisite face suggested a mixed Castilian and Incan ancestry from each of which only the best had been borrowed. And her huge brown eyes always bore a somber, serious aspect.

They bore just such a somber, serious aspect right now.

I chuckled to myself, and glanced at the clock. Still plenty of time, leisure to complete the task I had assigned myself before tackling the chore my wife had left me, cleaning up the wrappings. No problem, Maria would be most helpful in both efforts.

Staring into those deep brown eyes, I drove my hips forward. With a satisfied sigh, I felt my iron-stiff penis seat itself firmly in the silky depths of her reluctantly yielding vagina. She grunted quietly, and bit her lower lip, but after the past four months of my frequent penetration, there was no longer any surprise in her face. And certainly no complaint. She was a good girl, and her mother had told her to obey me.

Such a pretty thing, I thought, as I tenderly brushed a stray strand of long dark hair from her face and began to slowly withdraw my blissful prick in preparation for my next thrust. Before I drove in again, I spared another glance around the room.

Wrappings, bows, ribbons. A few toys lost in the mess. Over in the corner the rollerblades that Cindy and I had given Maria. She had really lit up upon opening that gift this morning, I recalled. And right there behind me, within reach, a teddy bear that my mother-in-law had given one of the twins. A perfect prop.

After driving my long cock fully into the youngster once more, I reared up on my knees and then sat back upon my heels, pulling the slight girl by her hips along the ramp of my resulting lap to keep her properly mated with me. Her shoulders slid across the floor as I maneuvered her, and might have risked carpet burn had they not been resting on a large scrap of red-and-gold wrapping paper that slid right along with her. From this position, I was able to grab the teddy bear and place it into her embrace.

The pose was incredible. Now that I was sitting back on my heels, the little girl's rump rested on my thighs. Her knees were lifted up a bit, and with a slight nudge from me she dutifully wrapped her smooth legs around my torso. At their juncture, her fat, hairless little labia, browner in hue than her cinnamon thighs, stretched in a broad "O" around my now half-imbedded shaft.

In the center of her flat golden belly lay an adorable "innie" bellybutton, rising and dropping gently with her breathing. Her apricot-sized breasts, capped by stiff brown nipples, thrust obediently upward. Teddy was nestled in the crook of one arm, and a serious, almost pouting face stared back at me, her chin pressing into her chest as the angle of her posture required.

I felt my prick twitch inside her.

Our current position would be inadequate for the rapid, deep power-fucking that was about to commence, the imperative for which I could feel building in my balls. I fell forward, sliding the young teen on her wrapping-paper sled back across the carpet. I planted my right elbow beside her head, bringing my face next to hers. As my left hand cupped her tight little ass and held it, at least a foot off the floor, and my cock began to pound voraciously into her syrupy sugarplum, I trapped her little bow-shaped mouth in my own.

The momentum of each inward thrust caused her to slide a couple of inches headwards, and on each outstroke I instinctually followed her, repositioning my knees to maximize the leverage available to my next hip thrust. Once I get a rhythm going into Maria's velvety fuckpouch, I find it difficult to stop myself, so soon we were under the tree, threatening to drive into the stand and bring the whole thing down. I felt fir needles scraping gently across my back as I placed my right hand out, palm down on the tree skirt above her head, to arrest any further progress of her inadvertent flight.

I drew my head back, knocking off an ornament in the process, and could feel my face taking on the lust-crazed, wild-eyed look of impending climax. Looking back at me was the slightly flushed, but still quite somber, countenance of my lovely little fuck blessing.

Yes, this year had indeed been a gift, I thought, as I gasped and pumped a sticky load of my potent batter directly into her Christmas pudding. On sensing this deposit, Maria's eyes closed, and an almost happy expression flitted across her face. Maria never seemed to mind sex, and almost appeared to enjoy it at times, but for some reason the only time she was clearly experiencing sexual pleasure was when I was coming inside her. I made an effort to provide her this sensation as frequently as I could.

After peeling myself off the sweet little Latina, I leaned back against an ottoman and put Maria to work cleaning up the Christmas detritus. My moist, heavy prick lay coiled along my leg as I watched her cute, light brown buns undulate and flex while she went about the task. My seed glistened around her juvenile pubis and her inner thighs.

As she completed the cleanup, I looked at the clock again. Plenty of time, I thought, as I reached for a sprig of mistletoe that had dropped from the living room entryway and onto the floor near me. Plenty of time for that old sophomoric joke. Only this time, it would be no joke.

Holding it over my once more stirring penis, I summoned the girl.

"Maria, we've taught you what mistletoe means...."

Without a hint of complaint, the girl left her other duties to bury her face between my thighs and set to work. Oh, what a blessing indeed!

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