Podcast appearances and mentions of Elizabeth Taylor

It's a special collab episode! Chelsea and What Went Wrong hosts Lizzie Bassett and Chris Winterbauer dive into chaotic movie-making stories hidden inside celebrity memoirs and behind-the-scenes Hollywood tea. They trade wild anecdotes, including Tippi Hedren filming with real lions on “Roar,” Barbra Streisand's blunt take on “A Star Is Born” remakes, Jennifer Grey's mid-shoot plastic surgery, Elizabeth Taylor trading lovers while making “Cleopatra,” Rob Lowe's fight club with Tom Cruise, and so much more. Find the full list of books and resources recommended in this episode AND learn more about writing and creating by checking out The Behind the Bangs Patreon. Where to find our guests:  What Went Wrong on Apple Podcasts What Went Wrong on Spotify What Went Wrong Patreon What Went Wrong on Instagram Lizzie Bassett:  Instagram *** Glamorous Trash is all about going high and low at the same time— Glam and Trash. We recap and book club celebrity memoirs, deconstruct pop culture, and sometimes, we cry! If you've ever referenced Mariah Carey in therapy... then this is the podcast for you. Thank you to our sponsors: Quince  - Go to quince.com/glamorous for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.  Thrive Causemetics - Get 20% off your first order at thrivecausemetics.com/glamorous Libro.fm - Click here to get 2 audiobooks for the price of 1 with your first month of membership using code TRASH. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

A line-by-line analysis of "Elizabeth Taylor" from Life of a Showgirl. This episode explores how the song contrasts fame, glamour, and public permanence with private loneliness and the longing for lasting love — without biography, speculation, or overreach.

Elizabeth Taylor i Richard Burton tworzyli najsłynniejszą parę Hollywood. Pobrali się i rozwiedli dwa razy. Choć ona miała sześciu innych mężów, to Burton pozostał miłością jej życia. Autorka: Natalia Hołownia Artykuł przeczytasz pod linkiem: https://www.vogue.pl/a/elizabeth-taylor-richard-burton-historia-zwiazku-milosc

On the December 27, 2025 edition of The Richard Crouse Show we meet firector James House and producer Caroline Sciama of “Elizabeth Taylor: Rebel Superstar,” a compelling three-part docuseries that reexamines Taylor’s life through a modern lens, highlighting her evolution from child star under MGM’s control to a trailblazing activist, businesswoman, and feminist icon. It features exclusive interviews with Taylor’s son Chris Wilding, granddaughter Naomi Wilding, and stars like Sharon Stone, Joan Collins, and Paris Jackson, alongside rare archival audio and can be seen on Hollywood Suite. Then, we meet Atom Egoyan and Amanda Seyfried of the new film “Seven Veils.” In this a new psychological thriller, now playing in theatres, Seyfried is Jeanine, a director dealing with repressed trauma as she mounts a production of her mentor’s most famous work, the opera “Salome.” Rich with metaphor and suspense “Seven Veils” is an intellectual thriller about art imitating life. Finally, we’ll meet Keira Jang, star of “Can I Get A Witness?” a Canadian eco-sci fi/coming-of-age film now on streaming sevices. It’s set in a future where climate change and world poverty have been eradicated. To mitigate these modern-day issues, travel and technology are banned and every citizen must end life at 50. Documenting the process are artists as witnesses, like the character Kiera plays, a teenager on her first day on the job.

On the December 27, 2025 edition of The Richard Crouse Show we meet firector James House and producer Caroline Sciama of “Elizabeth Taylor: Rebel Superstar,” a compelling three-part docuseries that reexamines Taylor's life through a modern lens, highlighting her evolution from child star under MGM's control to a trailblazing activist, businesswoman, and feminist icon. It features exclusive interviews with Taylor's son Chris Wilding, granddaughter Naomi Wilding, and stars like Sharon Stone, Joan Collins, and Paris Jackson, alongside rare archival audio and can be seen on Hollywood Suite. Then, we meet Atom Egoyan and Amanda Seyfried of the new film “Seven Veils.” In this a new psychological thriller, now playing in theatres, Seyfried is Jeanine, a director dealing with repressed trauma as she mounts a production of her mentor's most famous work, the opera “Salome.” Rich with metaphor and suspense “Seven Veils” is an intellectual thriller about art imitating life. Finally, we'll meet Keira Jang, star of “Can I Get A Witness?” a Canadian eco-sci fi/coming-of-age film now on streaming sevices. It's set in a future where climate change and world poverty have been eradicated. To mitigate these modern-day issues, travel and technology are banned and every citizen must end life at 50. Documenting the process are artists as witnesses, like the character Kiera plays, a teenager on her first day on the job.

We're joined by Stefanie Powers for a layered conversation that spans Hollywood's golden-era traditions, cultural change, and a life shaped by both stardom and purpose.For those in the Los Angeles area, Stefanie, with co-star Patrick Wayne, will be performing 'Love Letters' at the El Portal Theatre in North Hollywood as a benefit for the William Holden Wildlife Foundation on January 11, 2026!Stefanie reflects on growing up alongside future screen legends at Hollywood High School, and how her lifelong love of animals began at home, thanks to a stepfather who raised thoroughbreds and kept exotic animals. Her first professional job came at age 15 when she was cast in the film West Side Story, where the young cast prepared by listening to recordings of real New York street kids to capture authentic rhythms and speech patterns. However, Stefanie's tender age required too many work time restrictions as the production's intensity ramped up and her part was re-cast. She describes old school studio system rigors, where actors “sold their lives” for a seven-year contract. Restrictive, yes, but also an entertainment education that taught singing, dancing, acting, and stage presence, alongside publicity essentials.Still under contract with Columbia, she was loaned out to United Artists to make McLintock! and Stefanie shares memories of working with John, Michael and Patrick Wayne.The legendary show biz tales are boundless. Did you know that Natalie Wood, Jill St. John and Stephanie were all in the same childhood dance class? All would, one way or another, be married to Robert Wagner. And, true story: During a painful divorce, Stefanie was offered solace at Roddy McDowell's house by fellow travelers, Elizabeth Taylor and Ava Gardner.She also recounts the party at Dean Martin's home where she danced the night away with Bobby Kennedy Sr. as he encouraged her to use her Spanish language skills to become more civically involved with Latino communities here at home.She also speaks candidly about her complex romantic relationship with William Holden, whose influence on her life is ongoing. In his name, she has created The William Holden Wildlife Foundation in Kenya where local youth learn biodiversity, species conservation and alternatives to habitat destruction for humans and wildlife.And of course, we talk Hart To Hart where Stefanie starred with Robert Wagner. She was actually on her way to Broadway when a newspaper strike halted her production of Cyrano, and freed her to take a pilot that would change her life!In current media --Fritz: (joined by his daughter Carly!) Nuremberg, in theaters and streamingWeezy: The documentary Twas The Fight Before Christmas on Apple TV+ and PrimePath Points of Interest:Love Letters at the El PortalWilliam Holden Wildlife FoundationStefanie PowersStefanie Powers on WikipediaStefanie Powers on IMDBStefanie Powers on FacebookStefanie Powers on InstagramNurembergTwas The Fight Before Christmas

Welcome back to Scene Missing, the show where we dig past the highlight reels and get into the real story. This time, Gabriel Hardman, Ian Brill, and I take a hard, unsentimental look at the career of Burl Ives—a performer whose legacy is far bigger, messier, and more complicated than the warm baritone most people remember.We start with the role that earned him Hollywood's highest honor: his Oscar-winning turn as Rufus Hannassey in The Big Country, opposite Gregory Peck, Jean Simmons, and Charlton Heston—a performance that weaponized charm into something quietly menacing. From there, we contrast it with the brutal, snowbound moral reckoning of Day of the Outlaw, where Ives delivers one of the coldest outlaw portrayals ever put on film. We also explore his unexpected presence in prestige drama, including Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, sharing the screen with Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor, and how his earthy gravitas grounded Tennessee Williams' overheated world.On television, we revisit his folksy patriarch on O.K. Crackerby!, his later dramatic turn on The Bold Ones: The Lawyers, and how TV both extended and softened his public image. And yes—we absolutely talk about the role that permanently etched him into pop culture: the voice of Sam the Snowman in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, a performance so comforting it practically erased the edge of the man behind it.But we don't stop at acting. Ives' massive influence as a folk singer is front and center—from “Blue Tail Fly” to “Big Rock Candy Mountain”—along with the career-altering moment that still sparks controversy: his testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee, where he named names, including Pete Seeger, reshaping both of their legacies in opposite directions. This isn't a tribute. It's an honest conversation about talent, ambition, fear, and compromise—and how one man could be a beloved storyteller, a terrifying screen presence, and a cautionary tale all at once.

In this inspiring episode of The Neil Haley Show, host Neil Haley and co-host Eric Couch sit down with supermodel-turned-business mogul Kathy Ireland, whose Kathy Ireland Worldwide generates over a billion dollars annually across furniture, fashion, diamonds, real estate, and FinTech. Ireland passionately opens the conversation by discussing her role as International Youth Chair for the National Pediatric Cancer Foundation, urging listeners to join Team 43—a movement recognizing that 43 children are diagnosed with cancer daily while receiving less than 5% of cancer research funding. She shares how cancer has personally impacted her family, including their pastor's daughter Daisy, and emphasizes the organization's transparency with a 100% Charity Navigator score. Ireland's entrepreneurial journey began humbly at her kitchen table as an "aging pregnant model" in 1993, starting with a single pair of socks after taking out a loan. She and her creative director would load up backpacks, hit the road, and face countless rejections before eventually selling their 100 millionth pair of socks—a milestone she celebrates with genuine gratitude.Ireland credits her success to lessons learned from modeling's constant rejection, her mother's example of pivoting through various entrepreneurial ventures, and mentors including Elizabeth Taylor, Warren Buffett, and Irv Blumkin of Nebraska Furniture Mart. She reveals her unwavering commitment to ethical business practices, conducting surprise factory inspections to combat human trafficking, which she identifies as the fastest-growing illegal business globally. Her faith provides the foundation for everything she does—she found Christ at 18 after her mother secretly placed a Bible in her suitcase, though she admits to neglecting scripture for years before reading it cover to cover and recognizing where she had gone astray. Ireland's business philosophy centers on "J-O-Y" (Jesus, Others, You), a reminder she would post throughout her home when her children were young to maintain proper priorities. When asked about legacy, she quotes Casting Crowns: "I don't want to leave a legacy. I don't care if they remember me, only Jesus." She emphasizes that putting God first at 44 years old—starting with just 15 minutes of prayer and Bible reading each morning—transformed her life, giving her more and better time with her children while building a business empire that funds humanitarian work addressing hunger, poverty, education, veteran care, and human trafficking prevention.

Dnešním tématem Omeletek jsou psi a kočky. Jednou jsem šla kolem hřbitova a viděla pána, jak venčí rozkošného francouzského buldočka. Ti se mi hrozně líbí, a tak jsem se k pánovi vrhla, a zvířátko obdivovala. Pak jsem se na pána usmála a řekla jsem: “Nádhernej buldoček! A je to pejsek nebo kočička?“ Uslyšíte recept Haliny Pawlowské na kuře podle Elizabeth Taylor. Přečte svoji povídku Plachta bílá. A přidáme posluchačský příspěvek Věry Zikanové Předsevzetí.

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; again;" She may have needed the orgasm, but it did nothing to improve her mood. It didn't help that the song 'This Christmas' by Shoes had begun playing as the cumming ended. When it finally felt like her legs would work again, she turned around and slumped into a corner of the tub, as far from Juan as possible. Ginny stayed still for some time, until her feet and fingers felt that annoying level of pruny that made everything awful to touch. With the heat of the water and all the alcohol she'd drunk, she was feeling rather light-headed, so she turned off the stereo and shut off the lights. She found a plate of her fucked-up and burnt gingerbread cookies and left them on a table near the fireplace along with the jug of nog before beginning to head upstairs to bed. "Yeah. Fuck this day. And fuck tomorrow too. Maybe if I stay drunk enough it'll just fly by. Fuck Christmas." The second floor was an open space in the middle, looking down onto the main floor. A set of stairs led up on either side and the bedrooms were spaced around the gallery. She'd loved the design when she bought it, but this only increased her frustration when no one ever came to visit. "Gorgeous fucking house; ten acres of beautiful nature filled with deer and ugly-ass wild turkeys; a fucking pond people could skate on; shit, I even found a patch of landrace back there! What's not to love about my new home? Why aren't people shitting themselves in jealousy?" She reached the master bedroom, sighing at how big it felt since she had no one to share it with. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her naked body and sighing. She was trim and fit, with nicely-sized boobs, she kept her cunt shaved smooth and her full lips were simply made to suck cock. Her skin was fair and even and her dark brown hair was long enough to pull on if you were fucking her ass or taking her from behind. So what the hell was wrong? The bed was certainly big enough for two (or maybe her and two guys who didn't mind getting close), but she plunked herself down into it and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the room to stop drunk-spinning. It took longer than she wanted it to, but things finally slowed down an she breathed deeply. She reached over with her hand and fumbled around inside the drawer of the nightstand. She finally withdrew an elegant glass dildo, a barely opaque white with bright red stripes curling around it to simulate a candy cane. It had been a Christmas gift from Claire, who had jokingly given it to her until she found a man for herself. That bitch. "Well, Frosty," she sighed, examining him. "Looks like it's you and me tomorrow. I promise to not get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or get more booze, okay? Because I'm here for you;" And with that she kissed the dildo and put it aside. She turned out her lamp and sighed deeply as she lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take her. "Fuck Christmas;" A noise from downstairs. Her eyes snapped open. She was sure she'd heard something. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths to try and calm herself, reasoning that she'd been drunk and it might just be hangover noises. Maybe just something like branches scraping on the roof or across the walls? Ginny felt a flush of anger and slowly rose, getting out of bed and putting on a plush yellow robe. There were definitely sounds downstairs. She grabbed her rape whistle and her high-school field hockey stick off the wall before quietly opening the door and proceeding out of the room. Her cheeks flushed with fear and anger. How dare someone invade her house? And in this fucking weather! "Burglars? Ruffians? Escaped cons?" "Well, at least if they see you they might have their way with you and break your dry spell." She shook the vile notion from her head, wondering where the hell that'd come from. Could she be that desperate to get laid? Ginny walked as quietly as she could, hearing noises on the roof. Raccoons? Looking to get in from the cold? Fucking trash pandas. She rounded the corner of the gallery and put her foot on the top step, her hockey stick ready. She crept down the stairs, still hearing the noises. They seemed to be coming from her living room. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to identify anything that might be amiss. Then she saw him, a symphony of red trimmed in white, the huge ass swaying back and forth as the intruder was bent over her at the base of her Christmas tree, doing God only knows what to it. He seemed to be humming to himself. She walked up silently until she was maybe ten feet away from him, her hockey stick over her shoulder, ready to swing. He didn't hear her or took no notice of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she growled through clenched teeth. "But you'd best get the fuck out of my house or I'll hit you so hard Google won't be able to find you." The person in red paused in their activities and then stood up slowly. After another moment's pause, they stood up and turned around slowly. He was slightly taller than average and quite a bit fatter than societal norms allowed. He had a fat face with dancing blue eyes and red cheeks. Beneath the tapered red hat was long, silvery-white hair and a very full beard and moustache. The intruder looked at her and grinned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked with a voice that could only be described as jolly. Ginny said nothing. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. She wanted to say something, anything, but she seemed to have been robbed of the power of speech. "W, who;" she finally managed to stammer. "Yes, Virginia," the visitor said quietly but pleasantly in a soothing voice. "There really is a Santa Claus." She blinked and shook her head, trying to articulate a coherent thought. The big man in red chuckled, clearly amused by her predicament. "Your egg nog was very good," he mentioned as he walked forward a little. "Your cookies needed a little work, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe a cookbook next year?" "Stay still!" she snapped, suddenly coming out of her stupor and holding the hockey stick behind her head as if she was winding up for a hit. "I'll deck you, old man!" "Oh, there's no need for that," he said cheerfully, totally unconcerned by her threat. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it, Ginny?" "Why do you know my name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Of course I know it," the man claiming to be Santa said jovially. "I'd be pretty lousy at my job if I didn't, right?" "If you're really Santa," she said tightly, still not understanding why she hadn't knocked this guy's head off his shoulders yet. "Then what was I doing the night of October seventeenth last year?" He tilted his head to the side a little and pursed his lips. "Are you sure?" "C'mon, you haven't got all day." "Very well," he said, sighing. "You were sitting in McPhearson's Pub, waiting vainly for Greg from IT to show up, because you'd given him a blowjob in the bathroom earlier that day and promised him more. But he went off with Becky from Accounts that night instead of meeting up with you." She blushed furiously at the memory. "I; that wasn't the day I meant! I meant the sixteenth!" He shrugged. "You had the day off and were really frustrated. You slid a condom over that very field hockey stick and used it on yourself, just to see what it was like." Ginny dropped the stick very suddenly. "How the hell do you know that, you perv?" The man shrugged. "I know all about you, Ginny. And every other boy and girl in the world" "Don't give me that horseshit!" she hissed, glaring at him. "I had too many Christmases where I didn't get what I want to buy into that cockamamie story!" "Well, you weren't exactly the most exemplary child, were you?" he reasoned. "I mean, you weren't horrible, it's not like you were out kicking puppies into woodchippers, but you spent more time in the naughty column that the good column, didn't you?" "What did I ever do that was so naughty?" she demanded hotly, her fists bunched up at her sides. "You and your brother could get rather friendly, couldn't you?" the man calling himself Santa pointed out. She faltered for a moment. "Lots of siblings play doctor. And those atomic booty bombs where I kept jumping in the air and landing on him were just playful." "While naked?" Santa asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ginny blushed. "But that wasn't what landed you on the naughty list," he added. "What got you blacklisted was that you lied about doing your homework or cleaning your room while you were messing around with your brother. Your mom and dad would ask you to do your math and you'd slip away to play doctor instead and tell them you'd finished your homework after. Lying is naughty, right?" "Woah, hold the phone here," she said loudly, holding her head as if she was suddenly dizzy from a revelation. She didn't seem to notice that her robe had opened slightly, exposing her cleavage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fibbing to my parents kept me from getting the gifts I wanted?" "Were the rules unclear?" Santa asked. "I thought the songs on the subject were so easy to follow." Ginny pinched her eyes in exasperation and then scowled at him. "I'm drunk," she concluded, trying to convince herself none of this was real. "I'm drunker than Sarah Palin and you're not really here. I'm still in bed and this is all bullshit." Santa shrugged. "I was putting stuff under your tree until you arrived and enjoying the nog. I won't mind if you go back to bed." "No, you're not getting off that easily," she said in annoyance. "You broke into my house in the middle of the storm of the fucking century and I want answers, dammit!" He shrugged. "Fair enough. Ask away." Her eyes narrowed again. "Aren't you on kind of a time crunch? Unless I'm the last person on your delivery list, don't you still have a shit ton of houses to visit? Say, a few hundred million?" He waved it off. "I've got it covered, I promise. I have all the time in the world for you, Ginny. I always have." "What, so you sub-contract out?" she said snidely. "Got FedEx making the rounds for you? Or maybe your 'Elves'?" She mentioned the last bit with air quotes. "Goodness, this has been a bad year for you, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. "But to answer your question, I am capable of being many places at once." "Oh, so now you're the Kwizatz-Haderach?" she asked archly. "Hey, it's not just cinnamon I put in my Christmas cider." Santa chuckled. "It's rather complicated to explain." "So do you, like, clone yourself?" she asked, her guard seeming to slowly come down. "No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "It involves Cherenkov Radiation, a Holmes field, a Gellar field and, to quote a friend of mine, 'a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey; stuff.'" "So it's some sort of deep quantum shit?" she asked, her body finally relaxing. He nodded, smiling. "Yes, it's very temporal and quantum. I can be many places at once. It's why I don't have to pay for billions in window repairs every year by going supersonic around the world." "So even while you're talking to me, you're delivering presents?" she asked, the sheer depth of the conversation hitting her now. She walked over to a stool and sat on it. "Like I said, it's difficult to explain without breaking out the chalkboard and calculator," he answered. "The magnetic lines between the poles help, especially the one that emanates from the Fortress of Solitude." Ginny blinked. "Fortress of Solitude? As in Superman? You're friends with Superman?" "Of course not!" the jolly man laughed. "There's no such thing as Superman, silly, he's a comic book character. Had you going, though." "Holy shit, Santa's a troll," she exclaimed, looking at him in bewilderment. "Well, okay, let's assume that this is all real and not a vivid hallucination resulting from a brain tumor. If I've been such a brat all these years, how do I make up for it? How do I get off the naughty girl list?" "Well, a little restraint would be a start," Santa suggested. "I'm not saying go out and become a Carthusian nun or a Buddhist priestess or anything, but you might try laying off the rampant promiscuity." "Why is that so bad?" she demanded. "What's so wrong with wanting to get banged?" "Nothing," he said simply. "But inevitably you get yourself into some kind of weird situation and end up lying your behind off and lying is a naughty thing to do. So try keeping your legs bolted together a little more." "Really;" she said, clearly not impressed. "Celibacy lessons from Santa Claus. Now I've heard everything." "According to my report here and speaking frankly, it's taken guys a lot less attractive than me a lot less effort to get you out of your clothes." Santa mentioned. "This coming from a guy who could clearly use a few P90-X sessions!" she shot back hotly, standing up, her robe opening further as she stomped toward him. He looked down at himself for a moment and guffawed. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that; hang on;" The man held his hands out to his sides and began to glow. The luminous display lit up the room progressively and Ginny held her hand in front of her face when it became too bright to look at for several seconds. When the light finally died away, leaving them once again in the softly lit living room, Ginny gaped in shock at what she saw. He was tall, powerfully built, with chiseled muscles, an eight pack and flawless, healthy skin. He'd removed his coat but the red pants remained, stretched tight over muscular thighs. Long, wavy, copper-colored hair fell past his shoulders and the full beard was reddish-gold. The sapphire-blue eyes stared down at her, still glittering with mirth. "Holy Jesus on a pogo stick;" she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're a total lumbersexual;" "This is what I really look like," he said, spreading his hands out to the sides and showing her his body. His chest rippled as the muscles flexed with the motion. "But kids react to the fat old man disguise better." "I'll bet mothers don't," she murmured, coming forward as if compelled and reaching out to touch his chest and washboard abs. "It's like you're Photo-shopped." He smiled as her hands caressed his abs. "You make me want to not get off the naughty list." "I think I know what you really want for Christmas;" he said slyly. Ginny paused and looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" "No, I can't lie." the man in red pants replied. "I thought it was Superman who couldn't lie." "Well, the writers had to get that idea from somewhere, I guess." Santa mused. "In any event, if you want, you could end up on the good girl list by being rather naughty." She stared at him. "So; get laid by Santa for Christmas?" He shrugged. "There might be some other goodies in the bag for you, but I think we both know what Ginny really wants and needs for Christmas." "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!" she thought to herself, wrestling with her sensibilities. "If this is all just a dream, then I can fuck hunky Santa and have no regrets. If this is real, I can fuck sexy Santa and remember it in the morning! It's win-win!" "Well, this is super-easy," she declared. "Santa, I want you to fuck my brains out for Christmas." "With pleasure, Ginny!" he said, laughing merrily. "Whatever you like, however you want it. I have to keep the kiddies happy." "Good, but just don't say 'kiddies' anymore, because that's kinda creepy," she said, throwing her caution to the wind. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the oversized silver belt buckle and undoing it. Letting it drop, she put her fingers on the front of his pants, caressing them over the crotch. Her mouth went dry. "That'd better not be a secondary present sack you're teasing me with;" Ginny hooked her fingers into the top of the velvety pants and pulled them down, revealing his cock. She drew in her breath slowly, her eyes widening. "Jesus," she muttered. "You're hung like a fat kid's Christmas stocking;" "Thanks, I make due." Santa said cheerfully, watching her admire his cock. "By the way, shouldn't I call you something else?" she asked, looking up at him while her hand reached up to take his huge shaft, wrapping around it, barely. "I mean, most people call you Santa Claus, but isn't your name Nick or Kris or something?" He shrugged again, grinning. "Nick, Kris, Klaus, Pelznickel, Joulupukki, Kanakaloka, Dun Che Lao Ren, Weihnachtsmann, Swiety Mikolaj, Hoteiosho, Jultomten, I don't mind, Ginny. I just like hearing you say my name the way you think of me." "Hmm, Santa;" she replied, smiling as she stroked her hand along his shaft, eyeing it hungrily. How the hell was she going to fit that all in her mouth, forget her aching cunt? "Ah, don't use that word," he chided, holding up a finger. "Some words are still naughty, even when you're an adult." "Stay out of my mind then, creeper." Ginny said as she leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the fat head of his cock. She flicked it around the tip and then slowly took it inside her mouth, tongue rolling against it. "The hell? How can his cock taste like mint?" "Just wait til you taste my cum." Santa said, leering. "Fine, but it better not taste like turkey gravy or we're gonna box." Ginny said as she pulled her mouth back for a moment. She pumped her hand gently along the shaft, studying her quarry intently. It was definitely the biggest cock she'd ever taken on, and the best-tasting. She'd been experiencing trippy magic all evening, maybe she could fit this monster in her mouth this one night; She put the head back in her mouth and relaxed, slowly pushing down the shaft. She moaned as she felt him slide to the back of her mouth and then to her throat. She felt him tremble and lay a huge but gentle hand on the back of her head. "Holy shit; I'm deep-throating Santa Claus;" Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and then tried to relax. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the whole minty cock thing was throwing her off. Her tongue undulated along the underside of his shaft while the fingers of one hand formed a ring around the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, fondling them. Ginny was proud of her cocksucking skills and if there was anyone she ever needed to impress with them (aside from her 11th Grade math teacher), it was probably Santa. She calmed herself and began pulling her mouth back along his length, humming and letting her lips vibrate softly on his sensitive skin. "Now I know why Mister Bondi gave you that A in math," Santa chuckled. "You're a very naughty girl, Virginia." "Hmm, only for you, Santa baby;" she cooed as she pulled her mouth off his cock long enough to respond, stroking slowly and swirling her tongue around the head again. She then slid back down the entire length, moaning in pleasure. She could feel her nipples getting hard and her cunt was very, very wet beneath her robe. Both his hands were on the back of her head now and holding her gently but firmly. She began to slowly bob back and forth, thrilled at how she was able to take this enormous beast of a cock all the way in her mouth. Sure, maybe there was some weird physics involved that compressed space and time or some shit, but she didn't care and he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, very good, Virginia;" he said softly, stroking her hair. No one ever called her Virginia and she didn't know why it gave her a tingle when he did. His cock was very full and very hard now, like a pulsing iron rod covered in mint-flavored velvet. She almost giggled at the thought of how crazy this all was. She really hoped it wasn't a dream. Her thumb began to squeeze along the underside of his cock as her hand followed her mouth up and down his length. The shaft glistened wetly and the mint was making her drool. She undid her robe and let it fall away, the air of the room kissing her flushed skin. Her hands now took hold of his powerful thighs and she began moving back and forth along his cock more quickly. She could feel his hands flexing in her long, dark hair, caressing her skin. Breathing through her nose, she moaned as she sucked ardently, her cunt almost aching with desire. She was hoping he would last long enough to fuck her when he went rigid suddenly and groaned, gripping her head tightly and his hips shuddering. Ginny's eyes widened as she felt him began to cum inside her mouth, spurting strongly. She began swallowing hastily, almost in a panic as Santa pumped his hips against her face. "Holy shit! Fucking eggnog?" He kept cumming and she was sure she might actually drown when he pulled his huge cock out of her mouth and pumped it furiously in his hand, spattering her tits and stomach with his glistening load. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It tingled on her skin. Finally, Santa relaxed, allowing Ginny to put her mouth back around his cock and suck the rest of his cum from him. He was sighing and breathing rather heavily, apparently having enjoyed himself. She eventually released him and smiled up at him wickedly. "So," she cooed, winking while she gently pumped his cock with her hand. "Am I back on the good girl list?" "Oh, I'd think so," he said, grinned. "But it's not like I've given you your whole present yet." "Jeez, you can still go?" she asked almost in disbelief but also delighted. She really needed to be fucked hard now. "Your cock taste like mint, your cum tastes like nog, your ass probably tastes like hot cocoa or nutmeg and you can keep it up all night?" "Up all night is kind of my thing, at least once a year." Santa said cheerfully. "So how would you like for me to give you the rest of your present, Virginia?" "Well, golly, Santa," she mused, making a show of thinking while she stroked his cock. "Since you seem to be the gift that keeps on giving, how about we just wing it?" He nodded and she stood up, keeping hold of his cock and gently led him over to the large chesterfield, hoping it would hold his rather muscular frame. She knelt on it, resting her arms along the raised back and smiled at him, wiggling her behind. She wouldn't believe how wet her cunt was. "You gonna hurry down my chimney, Santa-baby?" she asked, smiling slyly. "I can't believe you just said that!" he laughed jovially. He may not have been older, fatter Santa, but the laugh still definitely suited him. He stepped up behind her and took gentle hold of her hips. She could feel him press against her ass and she shivered in anticipation. He slid his massive cock up and down between her ass cheeks, teasing her until she was writhing in desperation. He seemed to know instinctively what she loved most. Which only made sense, since he was Santa. "Ready, Virginia?" he asked as he pressed the huge mushroom head against her sticky cunt. She nodded eagerly, unwilling to speak. He slid the head in, parting her lips and penetrating her. She groaned loudly as he began to stretch her inner walls. With a slow, steady push of his hips, he pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside her. It robbed her of her breath, she'd never felt so full in her life, even that one time she'd been so horny she'd fucked her parent's bedpost. "Ah; uh;" she gasped, eyes wide. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever experienced. His cock completely filled her to a delightful stretch that didn't hurt except in the good way. His iron shaft throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It was wonderfully warm but also strangely cool all at once, tingling, like mint again. How the hell could her cunt taste peppermint? "Language, Virginia;" he chided again as he pressed in just a little bit further. By right his cockhead should have bruising her brainstem, but there was no doubt some weird physics shit involved that she decided not to think about. She was getting fucked by Santa, after all. She pressed her forehead against the back of the couch and tried squeezing her cunt around his titan cock or pressing back against him, squirming her ass against his hips. She shuddered in delight, loving how he felt inside her. His hands reached under her body and squeezed and massaged her tits, sending delicious thrills through her. He began to move slowly back and forth, pulling back until just the tip was inside her and pushing in steadily, almost robbing her of breath. She began to feel like a blacksmith's bellows very quickly. The feel of his cock sliding inside her, stretching her and touching deep inside in ways she hadn't known were possible; "Oh my god;" she gasped, fingers digging into the back of the couch. "You're tearing me apart and I love it;" "Only the best for my Virginia," he said, his ruddy cheeks taking on a flush tone as he fucked her. Her fingers squeezed the meat of her thighs and hips or flexed on her ass cheeks. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt as he drove inside her. Strong yet gentle, forceful and commanding yet accommodating. She felt dominated yet exalted somehow. His hand wrapped in her hair and she groaned loudly as he pulled on it, craning her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, feeling her spine almost accordion as he thrust inside while pulling her head back. Her could feel the pulse of his cock through her whole body. Her nails scratched along the couch, almost clawing it. "Uh, you're gonna make me cum so fucking hard;" she wailed, feeling the sweat forming on her skin. "Oh my gawd;" "You're going to make me cum hard too," he panted, thrusting deep inside, thumping his hips against her ass. "You feel wonderful and tight, Virginia;" "Oh, God, he's gonna cum in me;" she realized. "Santa's gonna fucking cum in me and he's not wearing anything! Will my birth control work? Shit, will my kids always smell like mint?" "Oh, God, cum in me!" she panted, thrusting herself back against him and grinding shamelessly. "Fucking cum in me, Santa!" "Ya want me to cum in you?" he hissed, his body beginning to tremble. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside her. "Want my cum in you?" "God, yes!" Ginny squeaked, clenching her teeth. "Fucking cum in me and make me scream!" They strained against one another desperately and then she cried out as a massive orgasm crashed over her. It battered her senses as she felt his hot-yet-tingly-cool cum bathing her insides relentlessly. Her cunt was making greedy sucking sounds as she came, her whole body shuddering almost uncontrollably. She squeezed and clenched and rippled her tight tunnel round him, reveling in the way he stretched and penetrated her ever more deeply. She collapsed against the chesterfield, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. His massive, hard cock was still deep inside her, pinning her to him. She felt like she was made of lead, an exquisite exhaustion while pleasure crawled over her languidly. That was beyond anything she had ever experienced. But he didn't seem to be done with her. His powerful hands took hold of Ginny and turned her around so she was squatting on the couch, her knees spread wide and her arms slung across the high back. She looked up at him in weary astonishment as he nestled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her sopping cunt again. "Ah!" she wailed as he slid deep inside her again, his huge cock splitting her wide. Her nails dug into the couch again and she clenched her teeth as she sucked in her breath. Ginny tried to regulate her breathing while Santa began sliding in and out slowly, looking down at her with those penetrating blue eyes. "Jesus," she grunted, feeling almost like a rag doll in his hands, which gripped her hips. "Gonna fucking kill me with that thing!" "Oh, let's hope not," he replied, thrusting into her strongly. "I'm nowhere near done with you." She gazed up at him, trembling as he fucked her good and hard. She bit her lip as he squeezed her thighs, before moving his hands up to squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples. She groaned shamelessly as the delicious sting electrified her senses. She tried to squeeze herself around him, baffled by how big he felt inside her. She gasped and whimpered as he slapped her cunt lightly. She reached forward and raked her nails over his powerful chest, leaving red marks along the defined muscles. She ground her hips against him wantonly, thrilling to the look of pleasure on this face. "Uh, fuckin' wreck me;" she gasped, feeling another massive climax building inside her. "Make me cum on that beautiful cock, Santa!" "I'll take 'Things Virginia Never Thought She'd Ever Hear Herself Say' for a thousand, Alex!" he laughed. He reached down and took her ass her hands and pulled her closer, smiling warmly yet wickedly into her eyes as she sank further onto his cock, which penetrated her to the deepest depths yet. She could feel the head pressing against her womb. It didn't hurt, but she felt fuller and more stretched than ever. She felt him squeeze her ass cheeks while he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, bumping up and down on his powerful thighs. She moaned loudly and bit his shoulder, trying not to shriek. She tried to squeeze herself around him again, finding that she could barely control her muscles, let alone fuck. She bit down as the warmth spread through her, tears of pleasure in her eyes. He thumped his hips against her even more strongly and they strained against one another. Then he growled and released himself, pumping her once again full of his tingling cum. She shuddered and cried out loudly, her head spinning from the unreal ecstasy. Crushing herself to him, Ginny held on desperately, like a ship battered by an unrelenting storm. They both slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily. She felt small and almost cocooned in his embrace. She was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and could feel the thrilling tingle of his cum trickling out of her cunt. It wouldn't be a stain on her couch, it was a mark of honor. Their hearts pounded in rhythm as the orgasm passed over them and slowly flowed away. "Holy shit;" she whispered, her body still limp in his arms. "I think you've ruined me for sex. I should be mad;" "You have to admit, it makes sense that I'm better at gift-giving than anyone else on the planet." Santa reasoned, smiling and stroking her hair while she sat in his lap. "I'd say you were a little pent up there." "Mild understatement," she moaned, finally raising her head and smiling up at him. "Thank you, first of all. That was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." "I aim to please," he said cheerfully, caressing his thumb across her cheek and enjoying the shining look in her eyes. "Kinda my thing, after all." "So," Ginny purred, walking to fingers up his broad chest. "Is there a Mrs. Claus?" He shrugged. "There has been, of course." She paused suddenly and looked up at him, her smile replaced by a deadpan look. "What do you mean, there has been?" He seemed somewhat confused by her change in demeanor. "Well, there has been a few in the past, of course, there was Seeki first, then there was Ahoop, followed by Annalina, then Layla, Martha, Juliana, Gretchen and Jessica, Santarina, Kasey, Mary;" "I see," she said stonily. "You've had more wives than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands." "Well, to be fair, they've been spread over a long period of time." Santa replied. "And they were all special to me." "So then I'm not special." Ginny said flatly. "Well of course you are," he said, not understanding her mood swing. "You're my Virginia." "And Becky down the street is your Becky, and Sarah in the blue house is your Sarah and Hilda in Dusseldorf is your Hilda," she concluded. "Everyone's equally special to you, aren't they?" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not being fair," she sighed. "I just; well, I thought maybe this; ya know, tonight, was truly special. And clearly you're not good at lying." "Well, no, not at all." Santa agreed, still holding her and wondering how he could comfort her. "I can't lie." "Like, literally can't?" she asked, now curious more than anything. "It's part of your genetic makeup that you can't lie?" "No, nothing like that," he admitted. "But after spending centuries with kids and teaching them to always tell the truth, I haven't tried telling a lie in so long I don't even know how to do it." "You don't know how to lie?" she mused. "If I did, it wouldn't be the least bit believable," he said. "Like, if I said right now that your breath smells wonderful and not like old eggnog and vomit, I somehow doubt you'd believe my lie." "No shit," Ginny replied, giving him a stony look. "You're a horrible liar. You've got the subtlety of a cement truck. Good thing you're Santa and don't have to date to charm a girl." He held her close, hugging her tight to comfort her. She sighed deeply, still impaled on his hard cock, which showed no sign of abating. "God, I can't believe you've still got wood after cumming like a fire hydrant three times," she said, her mood softening. She was having the best sex of her life, she reminded herself not to ruin it by being crazy. "How long can you keep going?" He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "How long do you need me to?" "Actually, it doesn't surprise me that's your answer." Ginny said, smirking. "If you've got the time, I've got another itch that needs scratching." He grinned. "So you haven't broken in that hot tub yet, have you?" "Oh, Santa;" she purred, leaning in and biting his earlobe. "Like you don't make me wet already." He picked her up and carried her toward the Jacuzzi, deftly turning it on with his foot and bringing it rumbling to life. He stepped down into the churning water, setting her one of the seats. As he stood up, she leaned forward and hungrily took his enormous cock into her mouth, sucking ardently. She moved forward and knelt in the water, her hands on his hips again or stroking his balls. He picked her up bodily and turned her upside. Ginny squeaked in surprise at first but found his hips in front of her and began sucking again on his tool without delay. He buried his face in her cunt, tongue snaking deep inside her and she groaned gutturally, Holding her in place with one powerful hand, her teased her taint and then pressed a finger into her ass. "Jesus!" she gasped, almost choking on his cock as he wormed the finger down into her tight tunnel. "Oh, fuck! Your finger is bigger than some dicks I've fucked!" She attacked his cock again eagerly, bobbing back and forth like her life depended on it. She squirmed in his grip as he lashed her cunt with his tongue and fingered her ass. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and her knees locked around his neck. His cock throbbed in her mouth, still thrilling her with its unique and incredible taste. He turned her around again and paid her on the edge of the hot tub, spreading her legs wide. She looked on wantonly as he pushed his tongue back inside her again. He gripped her thighs to hold her in place and she groaned and squirmed, squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he drove her to the limit of her sensations. Ginny shook and thrashed as she cried out loudly, cumming on his face. He didn't let up, lapping at her essence eagerly. She lay like a dead thing for several seconds before her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes opened, gazing back at him. She couldn't feel her limbs, just floating on a tingling ocean of deep colors. Santa looked up at her and smiled, pulling his tongue out of her cunt and kissing her clit gently. She shivered at the touch. "One hole left, Santa," she breathed, her body glistening. "Got any left in you to perfect my Christmas?" "Always for you, Virginia." Santa said warmly, standing and raising her gently into a sitting position. He settled down into the water on one of the seats and then pulled her onto his lap, facing away from him. She moved her hips around until she found his rock-hard cock, waiting for her. She placed her puckered knot against it, giggling as she thought about what he was about to do to her. She took his shaft in her hand and held it steady while she sank down, very slowly. Ginny gasped and shivered as the head pushed aside the tight ring of muscle, popping inside her. Then she sighed as she lowered herself, feeling his massive cock stretching her tight tunnel wide. God, she felt so full it was unreal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ass cheeks pressed to his lap. He was all the way inside her ass and her held her closed as she settled back against him, purring in sensual pleasure. "Umm, it's never felt this good in my ass before," she said softly, her arms reaching back to curl around his neck. She gyrated slowly on his lap, moaning softly. "A gal could get used to this." His muscular arms wrapped around her and caressed Ginny's body, massaging her tits. She loved how she felt pinned to him. She had finally found the measure of her body and began to squeeze her tight ass around his cock. She squirmed in slow circles on his lap, wishing she had some music to fuck him to. Her stereo system suddenly came on and began playing 'It's Cold Outside'. She giggled and squeezed his neck gently at his thoughtfulness. "You think of everything, don't you?" she purred, lost in her pleasure. "I can't wait to make you cum again." He smiled wickedly and pulled gently on her nipples, causing her to groan at the welcome sting. She pressed her ass back into his lap, squeezing again around his throbbing shaft. The water bubbled and churned around her waist, the heat leaving her skin shining. She began to pant as she moved her hips faster, stopping the circular motions and started to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of her. Santa took hold of her hips and let her bounce on his lap. Ginny leaned forward, gasping as she fondled her tits, overcome with a liquid heat as his cock impaled her faster and faster. Water splashed around them as the fucking took on an almost frantic pace. Ginny had never felt anything in her ass like this before, nothing even close to this good. She could very easily become an addict. "Uh, fuck!" she grunted, slamming her ass down on him while one hand snaked down and began massaging her cunt and clit. His hands steadied her and helped moved her up and down. She could feel his hips trembling beneath her, his fingers flexing and squeezing her skin. Her panting became a long, drawn-out keening. She clenched her teeth, shuddering and straining as she tried to prolong the fucking; Ginny screamed and pushed herself back against his massive chest violently, thrashing as she clenched his cock inside her ass while he came. His cream flooded inside her, the unreal hot-cool tingling transporting her. He growled in her ear, almost crushing her comparatively tiny frame against himself. She collapsed, utterly exhausted, her chest rising and falling as the world spun around her. She felt him holding her gently, caressing her body in unique ways that seemed to; regulate her blood flow and nerve sensations, making the post-orgasmic bliss she was feeling last as long as possible. She felt herself smile and hum at his consideration, understanding this this is who he was and what he was meant to do. Ginny then did something she almost never did during sex, she leaned her head back, pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply and with great affection. She held it for as long as she could and then sank back into his embrace, sighing in contentment. "Wish you were advertising for a Mrs. Claus at the moment," she said softly. "I could get used to this." "I like things the way they are," he replied, hugging her. "Every year I get to reward you for being a good girl. What could be better than that?" "True, I guess," Ginny agreed. "I'm only human, all this sex could kill me." "Hey, I'm human too, you know," he chuckled. "Just because I'm immeasurably older than you and subject to quantum laws even my smartest elf couldn't explain doesn't mean I'm a member of some other species." "Okay, that's fair, although I'd still fuck you if you were an alien or some extra-dimensional being." Ginny admitted. "You've come in me a lot tonight, daddy. Do I need to” "No," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sterile, but you can't get pregnant unless I decide you will and I've never allowed it." "I wonder what a Santa kid would be like," she mused. "More like you or the mom?" "No idea," he confessed. "There's not exactly a manual, so I've never taken a chance." She slowly leaned forward and began to rise, shivering as she slid off his long cock and it popped out of her. She knelt and turned around to face him, not sure she could stand yet, looking up at his still hard cock and giggled, pressing her finger against the head. "Well, I think you can take him off duty, sir," she said sweetly. "I'm pretty sure that I'm all fucked out for the night, if not the whole season." He chuckled and let his cock soften, looking into her eyes and caressing his cheek. "Hopefully that was what you needed for Christmas." "Definitely, Santa." Ginny said, giggling. "Is it greedy to want the same present again next year?" "Not at all," he replied, grinning. "It cuts down on elf-labor hours if I can give people a gift mysteriously." Santa paused in speaking, going silent and looking around, as if listening for something. Neither of them touched the controls, but the motor for the jets turned off and all that could be heard was the howling roar of the winter storm outside. Ginny looked at him in confusion, wondering why his features hardened and a scowl crossed his normally jovial face. "That's no storm," he said in a low, growling voice. "Not a regular one, anyway." "What does that mean?" she asked, his reaction worrying her for reasons she couldn't readily explain. What the hell was a 'not regular' storm, according to Santa, or anyone else for that matter? He stood up and strode out of the hot tub, taking her by the hand and pulling her out with him. Their naked bodies glistened with water but this was the farthest thing from her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, his consternation beginning to frighten her now. She watched as he tossed her the robe she'd been wearing earlier and then started pulling on his pants and sturdy black boots. "It's just a winter storm! Isn't it?" "I wish that were true," he replied, his expression grim. "Listen to me very carefully, Virginia. I'll need you to follow me instructions precisely. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Okay, but” "Good," he said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing. "It's very important to your safety." "Can you at least tell me what's happening?" she pleaded. "Krampus." Santa muttered darkly as he wrapped bright red straps around his wrists, tightening them. "I should've been more careful." "What's Krampus?" she asked, going pale and she paused in putting on her robe, one of her tits hanging out. "Krampus isn't a what, Krampus is a who," he said, his eyes scanning the layout of her expansive living room. "He's also called Black Pete in some places and legend says he's supposed to be my evil henchman who punishes wicked children." "I take it that's not true, then?" she asked, looking around like he did, wondering what he was searching for. "Not even close," he growled. "Pardon my French, but Krampus is an evil sonofabitch. He was, at one time long ago, my dedicated helper, but he turned down the path of darkness, becoming twisted and diabolic. Forget punishing children, he wants to destroy Christmas, like it never happened." "What's that got to do with us here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Can he reach us in this storm?" "This storm is his doing, I recognize it now," Santa said, striding over to his huge Christmas bag and beginning to rummage in it. "A massive storm always precedes his arrival. It can be mistaken for a regular winter storm if you're not paying

Miracle On Route 34: Part 1 Ginny gets a wonderful Christmas surprise. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Author's Notes: Someone asked me to write a funny and erotic Christmas tale, but since I can't be normal, it is taking on a radical twist that I hope people will find amusing. I've tried to make Santa awesome but also give him some flaws that the ladies will find both charming and irksome all at once. I wasn't going to call it anything lame like 'Here Cums Santa Claus' (in spite of my love of Elvis) so I eventually settled on ripping off a classic and beloved Christmas movie, naming it 'Miracle On Rural Road 34'. Couldn't help myself with the 'Yes, Virginia' quip, of course. As for Superman, Oatmeal and the Easter Bunny, well, get used to more groaners like that, because I like them. Merry ho-ho and keep your stick on the ice! , Management Chapter 1. Ginny Hale sighed forlornly as she sat on her chesterfield in the dim room, the only light provided by the crackling fireplace and some scented candles spread around to make the house smell like gingerbread. She'd made gingerbread cookies earlier, but they were predictably burnt and now her kitchen smelled like a Christmas elf's ass. She took another sip of red wine from her oversized glass, unable to decide who or what to be mad at, the weather, for bringing this god-awful blizzard on Christmas Eve, her so-called friends for ditching her after she'd gone to all this work to put together a nice party, or herself for going crazy and buying this (admittedly nice) chateau way out here in the boondocks. Still relatively new to her negotiator position, Ginny had landed a huge deal for the company she worked for and the payout bonus was one of the biggest ever seen in-house. Though she had an office, she had often worked from her cramped apartment downtown, where a glorious chaos only she understood reigned. But the payout had been large enough for her to purchase a very pretty home in the country, not more than ninety minutes from work. Her boss was so pleased with the deal that he said she only had to come in once a week, to pick up whatever she needed to work on. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now she found she was quite lonely. Few people were will to put forth the effort to come out and visit her. In fact, only three had since the summer when she bought it. Hell, even her boy-toy, Chad from Accounting, could not be bothered and was now just fucking Lily in the secretary pool instead. Bing Crosby was singing 'White Christmas' to her while she moped. The big bay windows to her back porch showed the fury of the storm outside. Driving snow had been battering the countryside for two days now and her boss had called her to just stay safe and not try to come into the city. He was a nice old man and she liked him. He'd actually taken a chance and given her the job, after she'd fucked him. She hadn't invited him to her little soiree, because his miserable old bat of a wife was hovering around him constantly these days, certain he'd been tipping on her. But even without Old Man Reese, she'd invited upward of twenty people and none of them had shown. Not even Claire, her best supposed friend, had made it out. She was probably too busy being pinned and screwed by her boyfriend anyway, Guido or Nunzio or whatever his name was. Dean Martin came on, singing 'Marshmallow World'. Normally this was one of her favorites, but tonight it just reminded her that she was alone for Christmas. Again. With another sigh, she drank the rest of the wine in her glass and reached for the bottle, turning it over. It was empty. Damn. She'd have to open another one. She walked slowly into the kitchen, wearing her ratty old fox-themed footie pajamas, having decided that if she didn't have to dress up for anyone, she was dressing at all. She took a deep drink of spiked egg nog from the jug of it she'd prepared while she found another bottle of zinfandel and burped very loudly. She wrestled the cork off of the bottle and poured most of the contents into her oversized glass, muttering that she didn't have to answer to anyone about what she did, she was a big girl. She slumped back down on the couch while John Lennon asked her what she'd done for Christmas from the stereo system. "Up yours, John;" she said testily as she drank more wine. She stood unsteadily, blinking for a moment to try and clear her head. She might have had a bit of a wine fog going on, since she'd nearly polished off two bottles of Old Vine Zinfandel in under two hours. Convincing herself that walking was not a bad idea, she tottered over to the bay windows, reaching a hand out in front of herself to make sure it encountered the glass before her face did. "Will you look at that shit out there;" she muttered to no one in particular. After all, there was no one around to hear her. Well, almost no one. "Hi, Oatmeal," she said sweetly, grinning lopsidedly at the bearded dragon that sat in a terrarium near the bay doors. "Looks like you're my Christmas date; again;" The tiny lizard said nothing but assumed a darker shade of purplish brown. "Same to you too, bugface." Ginny muttered sourly, annoyed at being spurned by a reptile with a brain smaller than a sugared peanut. She lumbered back to the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to eat several pieces of the Turkish Delight she'd tried to make, but they were sticky and runny, most of the reddish-pink mess ending up stuck to the front of her pajamas. "Son of a fucking reindeer!" she spat, attempting to remove the pajamas, her sticky fingers having trouble with the zipper. She finally kicked the thing off and left it in a corner of the kitchen, now wearing nothing except her panties and a halter top. She stomped back into the spacious living room, thoroughly annoyed. While the music played, she looked around for something to do, taking another pull from the egg nog jug she'd brought with her. The hot tub. It sat near the bay windows, set into the floor and was large enough for five or six people. She'd been hoping that maybe a few people of the dozens she'd invited would show and maybe they could have a fun pool party. She'd even told everyone in the invitations to bring their swimsuits. But of course, no one showed. She was beginning to suspect she could live in Buckingham Fucking Palace and still no one would come to see her. This was, literally, the fifth Christmas she'd spent by herself. The timing for friends never worked out and her parents were always off in Monaco or some such place, avoiding the weather. Her mom had already called earlier that night, so she wouldn't hear any more from them for a few days now. She sighed yet again and pulled off her underthings, stepping into the water. She was drunker than she wanted to admit, though, missing her footing, squealing and tumbling into the tub with a splash. Ginny came to the surface, sputtering and hissing in outrage. Why couldn't anything work out? Oatmeal just stared at her impassively. "You win this time, gravity;" she growled, displeased with her inelegant entrance. Well, at least she'd been smart enough to put down the jug of nog before trying to get in. She turned on the jets and retrieved her beverage, taking another big pull as the tub rumbled to life. Ginny laid back her head against one of the padded rests and tried to relax, to let her frustrations go. She turned on the jets and allowed one to massage her lower back while sipping at a glass of wine. She tried to put the frustrations of the holiday behind her, to let go of the feelings of rejection and somehow not belonging. "Why did I but this new fucking home if no one was interested in visiting? Everyone said they thought it was so great, but months later, still no visitors. Do I really not matter that much?" It annoyed her to think not only that she was alone, but that doubtless most of the people who had ditched her were at home getting laid. Claire was doubtless face down and ass up on her bed, getting plowed from behind by Guido. Even Mr. Reese, the old geezer, was probably getting some, either from his wife or maybe one of his secretaries. She sighed heavily and sat up, putting her now-empty wine glass aside and deciding that just because she was alone on Christmas Eve didn't mean she wasn't owed at least one good orgasm. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the padded edge of the hot tub, positioning herself so that one of her jets, the one she'd named 'Juan', was right behind her. She felt the flow of water begin to caress her and she rested her head on her forearms as she wiggled further back, feeling the jet more strongly now as it pushed against her ass and her cunt. With a sigh, she found the perfect distance and pressed her face down into her arms, letting Juan work his magic. Water pressure massaged her cunt lips, strong enough to part them and to tease her clit, sending thrills through her. She shuddered and sighed loudly, forgetting, for now, how much men sucked. She bit the knuckle of her index finger, lost in reverie. God, if only it were a man fucking her. "Alone; on fucking Christmas; where's, ah!, where's the justice in that?" She was sweating now and panting as the relentless jets battered her nether tinglies, the sensations overwhelming her steadily. She clenched her teeth and her fists, straining as she fought to hold on a little longer. She moaned very loudly, her whole body shaking as Juan delivered a wonderful orgasm. She panted and groaned shamelessly, knowing that no one was around to see her in her pent-up, frustrated lust, expending it on her Jacuzzi jets. The scintillating lights behind her eyes, however, were over all too quickly and the climax subsided, replaced by a juddering sensitivity that made Juan's caress too much to bear. She collapsed against the edge of the hot tub, moving her ass away from the jet. "Alone; again;" She may have needed the orgasm, but it did nothing to improve her mood. It didn't help that the song 'This Christmas' by Shoes had begun playing as the cumming ended. When it finally felt like her legs would work again, she turned around and slumped into a corner of the tub, as far from Juan as possible. Ginny stayed still for some time, until her feet and fingers felt that annoying level of pruny that made everything awful to touch. With the heat of the water and all the alcohol she'd drunk, she was feeling rather light-headed, so she turned off the stereo and shut off the lights. She found a plate of her fucked-up and burnt gingerbread cookies and left them on a table near the fireplace along with the jug of nog before beginning to head upstairs to bed. "Yeah. Fuck this day. And fuck tomorrow too. Maybe if I stay drunk enough it'll just fly by. Fuck Christmas." The second floor was an open space in the middle, looking down onto the main floor. A set of stairs led up on either side and the bedrooms were spaced around the gallery. She'd loved the design when she bought it, but this only increased her frustration when no one ever came to visit. "Gorgeous fucking house; ten acres of beautiful nature filled with deer and ugly-ass wild turkeys; a fucking pond people could skate on; shit, I even found a patch of landrace back there! What's not to love about my new home? Why aren't people shitting themselves in jealousy?" She reached the master bedroom, sighing at how big it felt since she had no one to share it with. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her naked body and sighing. She was trim and fit, with nicely-sized boobs, she kept her cunt shaved smooth and her full lips were simply made to suck cock. Her skin was fair and even and her dark brown hair was long enough to pull on if you were fucking her ass or taking her from behind. So what the hell was wrong? The bed was certainly big enough for two (or maybe her and two guys who didn't mind getting close), but she plunked herself down into it and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the room to stop drunk-spinning. It took longer than she wanted it to, but things finally slowed down an she breathed deeply. She reached over with her hand and fumbled around inside the drawer of the nightstand. She finally withdrew an elegant glass dildo, a barely opaque white with bright red stripes curling around it to simulate a candy cane. It had been a Christmas gift from Claire, who had jokingly given it to her until she found a man for herself. That bitch. "Well, Frosty," she sighed, examining him. "Looks like it's you and me tomorrow. I promise to not get out of bed except to go to the bathroom or get more booze, okay? Because I'm here for you;" And with that she kissed the dildo and put it aside. She turned out her lamp and sighed deeply as she lay in the dark, waiting for sleep to take her. "Fuck Christmas;" A noise from downstairs. Her eyes snapped open. She was sure she'd heard something. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took deep breaths to try and calm herself, reasoning that she'd been drunk and it might just be hangover noises. Maybe just something like branches scraping on the roof or across the walls? Ginny felt a flush of anger and slowly rose, getting out of bed and putting on a plush yellow robe. There were definitely sounds downstairs. She grabbed her rape whistle and her high-school field hockey stick off the wall before quietly opening the door and proceeding out of the room. Her cheeks flushed with fear and anger. How dare someone invade her house? And in this fucking weather! "Burglars? Ruffians? Escaped cons?" "Well, at least if they see you they might have their way with you and break your dry spell." She shook the vile notion from her head, wondering where the hell that'd come from. Could she be that desperate to get laid? Ginny walked as quietly as she could, hearing noises on the roof. Raccoons? Looking to get in from the cold? Fucking trash pandas. She rounded the corner of the gallery and put her foot on the top step, her hockey stick ready. She crept down the stairs, still hearing the noises. They seemed to be coming from her living room. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to identify anything that might be amiss. Then she saw him, a symphony of red trimmed in white, the huge ass swaying back and forth as the intruder was bent over her at the base of her Christmas tree, doing God only knows what to it. He seemed to be humming to himself. She walked up silently until she was maybe ten feet away from him, her hockey stick over her shoulder, ready to swing. He didn't hear her or took no notice of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she growled through clenched teeth. "But you'd best get the fuck out of my house or I'll hit you so hard Google won't be able to find you." The person in red paused in their activities and then stood up slowly. After another moment's pause, they stood up and turned around slowly. He was slightly taller than average and quite a bit fatter than societal norms allowed. He had a fat face with dancing blue eyes and red cheeks. Beneath the tapered red hat was long, silvery-white hair and a very full beard and moustache. The intruder looked at her and grinned. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked with a voice that could only be described as jolly. Ginny said nothing. She seemed to be rooted to the spot. She wanted to say something, anything, but she seemed to have been robbed of the power of speech. "W, who;" she finally managed to stammer. "Yes, Virginia," the visitor said quietly but pleasantly in a soothing voice. "There really is a Santa Claus." She blinked and shook her head, trying to articulate a coherent thought. The big man in red chuckled, clearly amused by her predicament. "Your egg nog was very good," he mentioned as he walked forward a little. "Your cookies needed a little work, but I appreciate the effort. Maybe a cookbook next year?" "Stay still!" she snapped, suddenly coming out of her stupor and holding the hockey stick behind her head as if she was winding up for a hit. "I'll deck you, old man!" "Oh, there's no need for that," he said cheerfully, totally unconcerned by her threat. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it, Ginny?" "Why do you know my name?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Of course I know it," the man claiming to be Santa said jovially. "I'd be pretty lousy at my job if I didn't, right?" "If you're really Santa," she said tightly, still not understanding why she hadn't knocked this guy's head off his shoulders yet. "Then what was I doing the night of October seventeenth last year?" He tilted his head to the side a little and pursed his lips. "Are you sure?" "C'mon, you haven't got all day." "Very well," he said, sighing. "You were sitting in McPhearson's Pub, waiting vainly for Greg from IT to show up, because you'd given him a blowjob in the bathroom earlier that day and promised him more. But he went off with Becky from Accounts that night instead of meeting up with you." She blushed furiously at the memory. "I; that wasn't the day I meant! I meant the sixteenth!" He shrugged. "You had the day off and were really frustrated. You slid a condom over that very field hockey stick and used it on yourself, just to see what it was like." Ginny dropped the stick very suddenly. "How the hell do you know that, you perv?" The man shrugged. "I know all about you, Ginny. And every other boy and girl in the world" "Don't give me that horseshit!" she hissed, glaring at him. "I had too many Christmases where I didn't get what I want to buy into that cockamamie story!" "Well, you weren't exactly the most exemplary child, were you?" he reasoned. "I mean, you weren't horrible, it's not like you were out kicking puppies into woodchippers, but you spent more time in the naughty column that the good column, didn't you?" "What did I ever do that was so naughty?" she demanded hotly, her fists bunched up at her sides. "You and your brother could get rather friendly, couldn't you?" the man calling himself Santa pointed out. She faltered for a moment. "Lots of siblings play doctor. And those atomic booty bombs where I kept jumping in the air and landing on him were just playful." "While naked?" Santa asked, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Ginny blushed. "But that wasn't what landed you on the naughty list," he added. "What got you blacklisted was that you lied about doing your homework or cleaning your room while you were messing around with your brother. Your mom and dad would ask you to do your math and you'd slip away to play doctor instead and tell them you'd finished your homework after. Lying is naughty, right?" "Woah, hold the phone here," she said loudly, holding her head as if she was suddenly dizzy from a revelation. She didn't seem to notice that her robe had opened slightly, exposing her cleavage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Fibbing to my parents kept me from getting the gifts I wanted?" "Were the rules unclear?" Santa asked. "I thought the songs on the subject were so easy to follow." Ginny pinched her eyes in exasperation and then scowled at him. "I'm drunk," she concluded, trying to convince herself none of this was real. "I'm drunker than Sarah Palin and you're not really here. I'm still in bed and this is all bullshit." Santa shrugged. "I was putting stuff under your tree until you arrived and enjoying the nog. I won't mind if you go back to bed." "No, you're not getting off that easily," she said in annoyance. "You broke into my house in the middle of the storm of the fucking century and I want answers, dammit!" He shrugged. "Fair enough. Ask away." Her eyes narrowed again. "Aren't you on kind of a time crunch? Unless I'm the last person on your delivery list, don't you still have a shit ton of houses to visit? Say, a few hundred million?" He waved it off. "I've got it covered, I promise. I have all the time in the world for you, Ginny. I always have." "What, so you sub-contract out?" she said snidely. "Got FedEx making the rounds for you? Or maybe your 'Elves'?" She mentioned the last bit with air quotes. "Goodness, this has been a bad year for you, hasn't it?" he said sympathetically. "But to answer your question, I am capable of being many places at once." "Oh, so now you're the Kwizatz-Haderach?" she asked archly. "Hey, it's not just cinnamon I put in my Christmas cider." Santa chuckled. "It's rather complicated to explain." "So do you, like, clone yourself?" she asked, her guard seeming to slowly come down. "No, not at all," he said, shaking his head. "It involves Cherenkov Radiation, a Holmes field, a Gellar field and, to quote a friend of mine, 'a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey; stuff.'" "So it's some sort of deep quantum shit?" she asked, her body finally relaxing. He nodded, smiling. "Yes, it's very temporal and quantum. I can be many places at once. It's why I don't have to pay for billions in window repairs every year by going supersonic around the world." "So even while you're talking to me, you're delivering presents?" she asked, the sheer depth of the conversation hitting her now. She walked over to a stool and sat on it. "Like I said, it's difficult to explain without breaking out the chalkboard and calculator," he answered. "The magnetic lines between the poles help, especially the one that emanates from the Fortress of Solitude." Ginny blinked. "Fortress of Solitude? As in Superman? You're friends with Superman?" "Of course not!" the jolly man laughed. "There's no such thing as Superman, silly, he's a comic book character. Had you going, though." "Holy shit, Santa's a troll," she exclaimed, looking at him in bewilderment. "Well, okay, let's assume that this is all real and not a vivid hallucination resulting from a brain tumor. If I've been such a brat all these years, how do I make up for it? How do I get off the naughty girl list?" "Well, a little restraint would be a start," Santa suggested. "I'm not saying go out and become a Carthusian nun or a Buddhist priestess or anything, but you might try laying off the rampant promiscuity." "Why is that so bad?" she demanded. "What's so wrong with wanting to get banged?" "Nothing," he said simply. "But inevitably you get yourself into some kind of weird situation and end up lying your behind off and lying is a naughty thing to do. So try keeping your legs bolted together a little more." "Really;" she said, clearly not impressed. "Celibacy lessons from Santa Claus. Now I've heard everything." "According to my report here and speaking frankly, it's taken guys a lot less attractive than me a lot less effort to get you out of your clothes." Santa mentioned. "This coming from a guy who could clearly use a few P90-X sessions!" she shot back hotly, standing up, her robe opening further as she stomped toward him. He looked down at himself for a moment and guffawed. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting about that; hang on;" The man held his hands out to his sides and began to glow. The luminous display lit up the room progressively and Ginny held her hand in front of her face when it became too bright to look at for several seconds. When the light finally died away, leaving them once again in the softly lit living room, Ginny gaped in shock at what she saw. He was tall, powerfully built, with chiseled muscles, an eight pack and flawless, healthy skin. He'd removed his coat but the red pants remained, stretched tight over muscular thighs. Long, wavy, copper-colored hair fell past his shoulders and the full beard was reddish-gold. The sapphire-blue eyes stared down at her, still glittering with mirth. "Holy Jesus on a pogo stick;" she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper. "You're a total lumbersexual;" "This is what I really look like," he said, spreading his hands out to the sides and showing her his body. His chest rippled as the muscles flexed with the motion. "But kids react to the fat old man disguise better." "I'll bet mothers don't," she murmured, coming forward as if compelled and reaching out to touch his chest and washboard abs. "It's like you're Photo-shopped." He smiled as her hands caressed his abs. "You make me want to not get off the naughty list." "I think I know what you really want for Christmas;" he said slyly. Ginny paused and looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" "No, I can't lie." the man in red pants replied. "I thought it was Superman who couldn't lie." "Well, the writers had to get that idea from somewhere, I guess." Santa mused. "In any event, if you want, you could end up on the good girl list by being rather naughty." She stared at him. "So; get laid by Santa for Christmas?" He shrugged. "There might be some other goodies in the bag for you, but I think we both know what Ginny really wants and needs for Christmas." "This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!" she thought to herself, wrestling with her sensibilities. "If this is all just a dream, then I can fuck hunky Santa and have no regrets. If this is real, I can fuck sexy Santa and remember it in the morning! It's win-win!" "Well, this is super-easy," she declared. "Santa, I want you to fuck my brains out for Christmas." "With pleasure, Ginny!" he said, laughing merrily. "Whatever you like, however you want it. I have to keep the kiddies happy." "Good, but just don't say 'kiddies' anymore, because that's kinda creepy," she said, throwing her caution to the wind. She knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the oversized silver belt buckle and undoing it. Letting it drop, she put her fingers on the front of his pants, caressing them over the crotch. Her mouth went dry. "That'd better not be a secondary present sack you're teasing me with;" Ginny hooked her fingers into the top of the velvety pants and pulled them down, revealing his cock. She drew in her breath slowly, her eyes widening. "Jesus," she muttered. "You're hung like a fat kid's Christmas stocking;" "Thanks, I make due." Santa said cheerfully, watching her admire his cock. "By the way, shouldn't I call you something else?" she asked, looking up at him while her hand reached up to take his huge shaft, wrapping around it, barely. "I mean, most people call you Santa Claus, but isn't your name Nick or Kris or something?" He shrugged again, grinning. "Nick, Kris, Klaus, Pelznickel, Joulupukki, Kanakaloka, Dun Che Lao Ren, Weihnachtsmann, Swiety Mikolaj, Hoteiosho, Jultomten, I don't mind, Ginny. I just like hearing you say my name the way you think of me." "Hmm, Santa;" she replied, smiling as she stroked her hand along his shaft, eyeing it hungrily. How the hell was she going to fit that all in her mouth, forget her aching cunt? "Ah, don't use that word," he chided, holding up a finger. "Some words are still naughty, even when you're an adult." "Stay out of my mind then, creeper." Ginny said as she leaned forward and swirled her tongue around the fat head of his cock. She flicked it around the tip and then slowly took it inside her mouth, tongue rolling against it. "The hell? How can his cock taste like mint?" "Just wait til you taste my cum." Santa said, leering. "Fine, but it better not taste like turkey gravy or we're gonna box." Ginny said as she pulled her mouth back for a moment. She pumped her hand gently along the shaft, studying her quarry intently. It was definitely the biggest cock she'd ever taken on, and the best-tasting. She'd been experiencing trippy magic all evening, maybe she could fit this monster in her mouth this one night; She put the head back in her mouth and relaxed, slowly pushing down the shaft. She moaned as she felt him slide to the back of her mouth and then to her throat. She felt him tremble and lay a huge but gentle hand on the back of her head. "Holy shit; I'm deep-throating Santa Claus;" Ginny took a deep breath through her nose and then tried to relax. Her whole body was tingling with excitement and the whole minty cock thing was throwing her off. Her tongue undulated along the underside of his shaft while the fingers of one hand formed a ring around the base of his cock and the other cupped his balls, fondling them. Ginny was proud of her cocksucking skills and if there was anyone she ever needed to impress with them (aside from her 11th Grade math teacher), it was probably Santa. She calmed herself and began pulling her mouth back along his length, humming and letting her lips vibrate softly on his sensitive skin. "Now I know why Mister Bondi gave you that A in math," Santa chuckled. "You're a very naughty girl, Virginia." "Hmm, only for you, Santa baby;" she cooed as she pulled her mouth off his cock long enough to respond, stroking slowly and swirling her tongue around the head again. She then slid back down the entire length, moaning in pleasure. She could feel her nipples getting hard and her cunt was very, very wet beneath her robe. Both his hands were on the back of her head now and holding her gently but firmly. She began to slowly bob back and forth, thrilled at how she was able to take this enormous beast of a cock all the way in her mouth. Sure, maybe there was some weird physics involved that compressed space and time or some shit, but she didn't care and he certainly didn't seem to mind. "Hmm, very good, Virginia;" he said softly, stroking her hair. No one ever called her Virginia and she didn't know why it gave her a tingle when he did. His cock was very full and very hard now, like a pulsing iron rod covered in mint-flavored velvet. She almost giggled at the thought of how crazy this all was. She really hoped it wasn't a dream. Her thumb began to squeeze along the underside of his cock as her hand followed her mouth up and down his length. The shaft glistened wetly and the mint was making her drool. She undid her robe and let it fall away, the air of the room kissing her flushed skin. Her hands now took hold of his powerful thighs and she began moving back and forth along his cock more quickly. She could feel his hands flexing in her long, dark hair, caressing her skin. Breathing through her nose, she moaned as she sucked ardently, her cunt almost aching with desire. She was hoping he would last long enough to fuck her when he went rigid suddenly and groaned, gripping her head tightly and his hips shuddering. Ginny's eyes widened as she felt him began to cum inside her mouth, spurting strongly. She began swallowing hastily, almost in a panic as Santa pumped his hips against her face. "Holy shit! Fucking eggnog?" He kept cumming and she was sure she might actually drown when he pulled his huge cock out of her mouth and pumped it furiously in his hand, spattering her tits and stomach with his glistening load. She'd never seen so much cum in her life. It tingled on her skin. Finally, Santa relaxed, allowing Ginny to put her mouth back around his cock and suck the rest of his cum from him. He was sighing and breathing rather heavily, apparently having enjoyed himself. She eventually released him and smiled up at him wickedly. "So," she cooed, winking while she gently pumped his cock with her hand. "Am I back on the good girl list?" "Oh, I'd think so," he said, grinned. "But it's not like I've given you your whole present yet." "Jeez, you can still go?" she asked almost in disbelief but also delighted. She really needed to be fucked hard now. "Your cock taste like mint, your cum tastes like nog, your ass probably tastes like hot cocoa or nutmeg and you can keep it up all night?" "Up all night is kind of my thing, at least once a year." Santa said cheerfully. "So how would you like for me to give you the rest of your present, Virginia?" "Well, golly, Santa," she mused, making a show of thinking while she stroked his cock. "Since you seem to be the gift that keeps on giving, how about we just wing it?" He nodded and she stood up, keeping hold of his cock and gently led him over to the large chesterfield, hoping it would hold his rather muscular frame. She knelt on it, resting her arms along the raised back and smiled at him, wiggling her behind. She wouldn't believe how wet her cunt was. "You gonna hurry down my chimney, Santa-baby?" she asked, smiling slyly. "I can't believe you just said that!" he laughed jovially. He may not have been older, fatter Santa, but the laugh still definitely suited him. He stepped up behind her and took gentle hold of her hips. She could feel him press against her ass and she shivered in anticipation. He slid his massive cock up and down between her ass cheeks, teasing her until she was writhing in desperation. He seemed to know instinctively what she loved most. Which only made sense, since he was Santa. "Ready, Virginia?" he asked as he pressed the huge mushroom head against her sticky cunt. She nodded eagerly, unwilling to speak. He slid the head in, parting her lips and penetrating her. She groaned loudly as he began to stretch her inner walls. With a slow, steady push of his hips, he pushed the entire length of his cock deep inside her. It robbed her of her breath, she'd never felt so full in her life, even that one time she'd been so horny she'd fucked her parent's bedpost. "Ah; uh;" she gasped, eyes wide. The sensations were like nothing she'd ever experienced. His cock completely filled her to a delightful stretch that didn't hurt except in the good way. His iron shaft throbbed in time with her heartbeat. It was wonderfully warm but also strangely cool all at once, tingling, like mint again. How the hell could her cunt taste peppermint? "Language, Virginia;" he chided again as he pressed in just a little bit further. By right his cockhead should have bruising her brainstem, but there was no doubt some weird physics shit involved that she decided not to think about. She was getting fucked by Santa, after all. She pressed her forehead against the back of the couch and tried squeezing her cunt around his titan cock or pressing back against him, squirming her ass against his hips. She shuddered in delight, loving how he felt inside her. His hands reached under her body and squeezed and massaged her tits, sending delicious thrills through her. He began to move slowly back and forth, pulling back until just the tip was inside her and pushing in steadily, almost robbing her of breath. She began to feel like a blacksmith's bellows very quickly. The feel of his cock sliding inside her, stretching her and touching deep inside in ways she hadn't known were possible; "Oh my god;" she gasped, fingers digging into the back of the couch. "You're tearing me apart and I love it;" "Only the best for my Virginia," he said, his ruddy cheeks taking on a flush tone as he fucked her. Her fingers squeezed the meat of her thighs and hips or flexed on her ass cheeks. His heavy balls slapped against her cunt as he drove inside her. Strong yet gentle, forceful and commanding yet accommodating. She felt dominated yet exalted somehow. His hand wrapped in her hair and she groaned loudly as he pulled on it, craning her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, feeling her spine almost accordion as he thrust inside while pulling her head back. Her could feel the pulse of his cock through her whole body. Her nails scratched along the couch, almost clawing it. "Uh, you're gonna make me cum so fucking hard;" she wailed, feeling the sweat forming on her skin. "Oh my gawd;" "You're going to make me cum hard too," he panted, thrusting deep inside, thumping his hips against her ass. "You feel wonderful and tight, Virginia;" "Oh, God, he's gonna cum in me;" she realized. "Santa's gonna fucking cum in me and he's not wearing anything! Will my birth control work? Shit, will my kids always smell like mint?" "Oh, God, cum in me!" she panted, thrusting herself back against him and grinding shamelessly. "Fucking cum in me, Santa!" "Ya want me to cum in you?" he hissed, his body beginning to tremble. It felt like his cock was getting bigger inside her. "Want my cum in you?" "God, yes!" Ginny squeaked, clenching her teeth. "Fucking cum in me and make me scream!" They strained against one another desperately and then she cried out as a massive orgasm crashed over her. It battered her senses as she felt his hot-yet-tingly-cool cum bathing her insides relentlessly. Her cunt was making greedy sucking sounds as she came, her whole body shuddering almost uncontrollably. She squeezed and clenched and rippled her tight tunnel round him, reveling in the way he stretched and penetrated her ever more deeply. She collapsed against the chesterfield, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. His massive, hard cock was still deep inside her, pinning her to him. She felt like she was made of lead, an exquisite exhaustion while pleasure crawled over her languidly. That was beyond anything she had ever experienced. But he didn't seem to be done with her. His powerful hands took hold of Ginny and turned her around so she was squatting on the couch, her knees spread wide and her arms slung across the high back. She looked up at him in weary astonishment as he nestled himself between her legs and pressed his cock against her sopping cunt again. "Ah!" she wailed as he slid deep inside her again, his huge cock splitting her wide. Her nails dug into the couch again and she clenched her teeth as she sucked in her breath. Ginny tried to regulate her breathing while Santa began sliding in and out slowly, looking down at her with those penetrating blue eyes. "Jesus," she grunted, feeling almost like a rag doll in his hands, which gripped her hips. "Gonna fucking kill me with that thing!" "Oh, let's hope not," he replied, thrusting into her strongly. "I'm nowhere near done with you." She gazed up at him, trembling as he fucked her good and hard. She bit her lip as he squeezed her thighs, before moving his hands up to squeeze her tits, pinching her nipples. She groaned shamelessly as the delicious sting electrified her senses. She tried to squeeze herself around him, baffled by how big he felt inside her. She gasped and whimpered as he slapped her cunt lightly. She reached forward and raked her nails over his powerful chest, leaving red marks along the defined muscles. She ground her hips against him wantonly, thrilling to the look of pleasure on this face. "Uh, fuckin' wreck me;" she gasped, feeling another massive climax building inside her. "Make me cum on that beautiful cock, Santa!" "I'll take 'Things Virginia Never Thought She'd Ever Hear Herself Say' for a thousand, Alex!" he laughed. He reached down and took her ass her hands and pulled her closer, smiling warmly yet wickedly into her eyes as she sank further onto his cock, which penetrated her to the deepest depths yet. She could feel the head pressing against her womb. It didn't hurt, but she felt fuller and more stretched than ever. She felt him squeeze her ass cheeks while he thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tight, bumping up and down on his powerful thighs. She moaned loudly and bit his shoulder, trying not to shriek. She tried to squeeze herself around him again, finding that she could barely control her muscles, let alone fuck. She bit down as the warmth spread through her, tears of pleasure in her eyes. He thumped his hips against her even more strongly and they strained against one another. Then he growled and released himself, pumping her once again full of his tingling cum. She shuddered and cried out loudly, her head spinning from the unreal ecstasy. Crushing herself to him, Ginny held on desperately, like a ship battered by an unrelenting storm. They both slumped onto the couch, breathing heavily. She felt small and almost cocooned in his embrace. She was covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and could feel the thrilling tingle of his cum trickling out of her cunt. It wouldn't be a stain on her couch, it was a mark of honor. Their hearts pounded in rhythm as the orgasm passed over them and slowly flowed away. "Holy shit;" she whispered, her body still limp in his arms. "I think you've ruined me for sex. I should be mad;" "You have to admit, it makes sense that I'm better at gift-giving than anyone else on the planet." Santa reasoned, smiling and stroking her hair while she sat in his lap. "I'd say you were a little pent up there." "Mild understatement," she moaned, finally raising her head and smiling up at him. "Thank you, first of all. That was the best thing I've ever felt in my life." "I aim to please," he said cheerfully, caressing his thumb across her cheek and enjoying the shining look in her eyes. "Kinda my thing, after all." "So," Ginny purred, walking to fingers up his broad chest. "Is there a Mrs. Claus?" He shrugged. "There has been, of course." She paused suddenly and looked up at him, her smile replaced by a deadpan look. "What do you mean, there has been?" He seemed somewhat confused by her change in demeanor. "Well, there has been a few in the past, of course, there was Seeki first, then there was Ahoop, followed by Annalina, then Layla, Martha, Juliana, Gretchen and Jessica, Santarina, Kasey, Mary;" "I see," she said stonily. "You've had more wives than Elizabeth Taylor had husbands." "Well, to be fair, they've been spread over a long period of time." Santa replied. "And they were all special to me." "So then I'm not special." Ginny said flatly. "Well of course you are," he said, not understanding her mood swing. "You're my Virginia." "And Becky down the street is your Becky, and Sarah in the blue house is your Sarah and Hilda in Dusseldorf is your Hilda," she concluded. "Everyone's equally special to you, aren't they?" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not being fair," she sighed. "I just; well, I thought maybe this; ya know, tonight, was truly special. And clearly you're not good at lying." "Well, no, not at all." Santa agreed, still holding her and wondering how he could comfort her. "I can't lie." "Like, literally can't?" she asked, now curious more than anything. "It's part of your genetic makeup that you can't lie?" "No, nothing like that," he admitted. "But after spending centuries with kids and teaching them to always tell the truth, I haven't tried telling a lie in so long I don't even know how to do it." "You don't know how to lie?" she mused. "If I did, it wouldn't be the least bit believable," he said. "Like, if I said right now that your breath smells wonderful and not like old eggnog and vomit, I somehow doubt you'd believe my lie." "No shit," Ginny replied, giving him a stony look. "You're a horrible liar. You've got the subtlety of a cement truck. Good thing you're Santa and don't have to date to charm a girl." He held her close, hugging her tight to comfort her. She sighed deeply, still impaled on his hard cock, which showed no sign of abating. "God, I can't believe you've still got wood after cumming like a fire hydrant three times," she said, her mood softening. She was having the best sex of her life, she reminded herself not to ruin it by being crazy. "How long can you keep going?" He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "How long do you need me to?" "Actually, it doesn't surprise me that's your answer." Ginny said, smirking. "If you've got the time, I've got another itch that needs scratching." He grinned. "So you haven't broken in that hot tub yet, have you?" "Oh, Santa;" she purred, leaning in and biting his earlobe. "Like you don't make me wet already." He picked her up and carried her toward the Jacuzzi, deftly turning it on with his foot and bringing it rumbling to life. He stepped down into the churning water, setting her one of the seats. As he stood up, she leaned forward and hungrily took his enormous cock into her mouth, sucking ardently. She moved forward and knelt in the water, her hands on his hips again or stroking his balls. He picked her up bodily and turned her upside. Ginny squeaked in surprise at first but found his hips in front of her and began sucking again on his tool without delay. He buried his face in her cunt, tongue snaking deep inside her and she groaned gutturally, Holding her in place with one powerful hand, her teased her taint and then pressed a finger into her ass. "Jesus!" she gasped, almost choking on his cock as he wormed the finger down into her tight tunnel. "Oh, fuck! Your finger is bigger than some dicks I've fucked!" She attacked his cock again eagerly, bobbing back and forth like her life depended on it. She squirmed in his grip as he lashed her cunt with his tongue and fingered her ass. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and her knees locked around his neck. His cock throbbed in her mouth, still thrilling her with its unique and incredible taste. He turned her around again and paid her on the edge of the hot tub, spreading her legs wide. She looked on wantonly as he pushed his tongue back inside her again. He gripped her thighs to hold her in place and she groaned and squirmed, squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he drove her to the limit of her sensations. Ginny shook and thrashed as she cried out loudly, cumming on his face. He didn't let up, lapping at her essence eagerly. She lay like a dead thing for several seconds before her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes opened, gazing back at him. She couldn't feel her limbs, just floating on a tingling ocean of deep colors. Santa looked up at her and smiled, pulling his tongue out of her cunt and kissing her clit gently. She shivered at the touch. "One hole left, Santa," she breathed, her body glistening. "Got any left in you to perfect my Christmas?" "Always for you, Virginia." Santa said warmly, standing and raising her gently into a sitting position. He settled down into the water on one of the seats and then pulled her onto his lap, facing away from him. She moved her hips around until she found his rock-hard cock, waiting for her. She placed her puckered knot against it, giggling as she thought about what he was about to do to her. She took his shaft in her hand and held it steady while she sank down, very slowly. Ginny gasped and shivered as the head pushed aside the tight ring of muscle, popping inside her. Then she sighed as she lowered herself, feeling his massive cock stretching her tight tunnel wide. God, she felt so full it was unreal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her ass cheeks pressed to his lap. He was all the way inside her ass and her held her closed as she settled back against him, purring in sensual pleasure. "Umm, it's never felt this good in my ass before," she said softly, her arms reaching back to curl around his neck. She gyrated slowly on his lap, moaning softly. "A gal could get used to this." His muscular arms wrapped around her and caressed Ginny's body, massaging her tits. She loved how she felt pinned to him. She had finally found the measure of her body and began to squeeze her tight ass around his cock. She squirmed in slow circles on his lap, wishing she had some music to fuck him to. Her stereo system suddenly came on and began playing 'It's Cold Outside'. She giggled and squeezed his neck gently at his thoughtfulness. "You think of everything, don't you?" she purred, lost in her pleasure. "I can't wait to make you cum again." He smiled wickedly and pulled gently on her nipples, causing her to groan at the welcome sting. She pressed her ass back into his lap, squeezing again around his throbbing shaft. The water bubbled and churned around her waist, the heat leaving her skin shining. She began to pant as she moved her hips faster, stopping the circular motions and started to move up and down, his cock sliding in and out of her. Santa took hold of her hips and let her bounce on his lap. Ginny leaned forward, gasping as she fondled her tits, overcome with a liquid heat as his cock impaled her faster and faster. Water splashed around them as the fucking took on an almost frantic pace. Ginny had never felt anything in her ass like this before, nothing even close to this good. She could very easily become an addict. "Uh, fuck!" she grunted, slamming her ass down on him while one hand snaked down and began massaging her cunt and clit. His hands steadied her and helped moved her up and down. She could feel his hips trembling beneath her, his fingers flexing and squeezing her skin. Her panting became a long, drawn-out keening. She clenched her teeth, shuddering and straining as she tried to prolong the fucking; Ginny screamed and pushed herself back against his massive chest violently, thrashing as she clenched his cock inside her ass while he came. His cream flooded inside her, the unreal hot-cool tingling transporting her. He growled in her ear, almost crushing her comparatively tiny frame against himself. She collapsed, utterly exhausted, her chest rising and falling as the world spun around her. She felt him holding her gently, caressing her body in unique ways that seemed to; regulate her blood flow and nerve sensations, making the post-orgasmic bliss she was feeling last as long as possible. She felt herself smile and hum at his consideration, understanding this this is who he was and what he was meant to do. Ginny then did something she almost never did during sex, she leaned her head back, pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply and with great affection. She held it for as long as she could and then sank back into his embrace, sighing in contentment. "Wish you were advertising for a Mrs. Claus at the moment," she said softly. "I could get used to this." "I like things the way they are," he replied, hugging her. "Every year I get to reward you for being a good girl. What could be better than that?" "True, I guess," Ginny agreed. "I'm only human, all this sex could kill me." "Hey, I'm human too, you know," he chuckled. "Just because I'm immeasurably older than you and subject to quantum laws even my smartest elf couldn't explain doesn't mean I'm a member of some other species." "Okay, that's fair, although I'd still fuck you if you were an alien or some extra-dimensional being." Ginny admitted. "You've come in me a lot tonight, daddy. Do I need to” "No," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sterile, but you can't get pregnant unless I decide you will and I've never allowed it." "I wonder what a Santa kid would be like," she mused. "More like you or the mom?" "No idea," he confessed. "There's not exactly a manual, so I've never taken a chance." She slowly leaned forward and began to rise, shivering as she slid off his long cock and it popped out of her. She knelt and turned around to face him, not sure she could stand yet, looking up at his still hard cock and giggled, pressing her finger against the head. "Well, I think you can take him off duty, sir," she said sweetly. "I'm pretty sure that I'm all fucked out for the night, if not the whole season." He chuckled and let his cock soften, looking into her eyes and caressing his cheek. "Hopefully that was what you needed for Christmas." "Definitely, Santa." Ginny said, giggling. "Is it greedy to want the same present again next year?" "Not at all," he replied, grinning. "It cuts down on elf-labor hours if I can give people a gift mysteriously." Santa paused in speaking, going silent and looking around, as if listening for something. Neither of them touched the controls, but the motor for the jets turned off and all that could be heard was the howling roar of the winter storm outside. Ginny looked at him in confusion, wondering why his features hardened and a scowl crossed his normally jovial face. "That's no storm," he said in a low, growling voice. "Not a regular one, anyway." "What does that mean?" she asked, his reaction worrying her for reasons she couldn't readily explain. What the hell was a 'not regular' storm, according to Santa, or anyone else for that matter? He stood up and strode out of the hot tub, taking her by the hand and pulling her out with him. Their naked bodies glistened with water but this was the farthest thing from her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, his consternation beginning to frighten her now. She watched as he tossed her the robe she'd been wearing earlier and then started pulling on his pants and sturdy black boots. "It's just a winter storm! Isn't it?" "I wish that were true," he replied, his expression grim. "Listen to me very carefully, Virginia. I'll need you to follow me instructions precisely. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Okay, but” "Good," he said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing. "It's very important to your safety." "Can you at least tell me what's happening?" she pleaded. "Krampus." Santa muttered darkly as he wrapped bright red straps around his wrists, tightening them. "I should've been more careful." "What's Krampus?" she asked, going pale and she paused in putting on her robe, one of her tits hanging out. "Krampus isn't a what, Krampus is a who," he said, his eyes scanning the layout of her expansive living room. "He's also called Black Pete in some places and legend says he's supposed to be my evil henchman who punishes wicked children." "I take it that's not true, then?" she asked, looking around like he did, wondering what he was searching for. "Not even close," he growled. "Pardon my French, but Krampus is an evil sonofabitch. He was, at one time long ago, my dedicated helper, but he turned down the path of darkness, becoming twisted and diabolic. Forget punishing children, he wants to destroy Christmas, like it never happened." "What's that got to do with us here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Can he reach us in this storm?" "This storm is his doing, I recognize it now," Santa said, striding over to his huge Christmas bag and beginning to rummage in it. "A massive storm always precedes his arrival. It can be mistaken for a regular winter storm if you're not paying

Le Chef Michel Grobon était l'invité de Room Service ce jeudi 11décembre de 9h à 10h. Un chef d'exception au parcours extraordinaire qui inspire le respect. Il a a débuté sa carrière auprès du pâtissier Gaston Lenôtre à Paris, puis est entré ensuite chez Maxim's à Paris, avant de devenir chef pour les Jeux olympiques de Grenoble en 1968 durant lesquels il a dirigé plus de 500 cuisiniers, 5 restaurants et servi plus de 100 000 repas par jour. Michel Grobon est ensuite parti faire carrière aux Etats Unis, où il a été Chef des Reagan à la Maison-Blanche durant 8 ans, chef privé de Frank Sinatra pendant 20 ans, il a ainsi cuisiné pour les plus grandes stars, Elizabeth Taylor, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson....Et en 1991 il est revenu en France pour ouvrir les restaurants de Disneyland Paris. Durant sa carrière il a ouvert pas moins de 300 restaurants dans le monde.

On this episode of More Rosebud we meet the celebrated biographer, journalist and writer Roger Lewis, "a bundle of nerves and rage and disappointment". Roger is the author of several acclaimed biographies, including Erotic Vagrancy, about Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, and The Life and Death of Peter Sellers. In this extremely funny and fascinating episode, Roger tells Gyles about his childhood in South Wales, he was the precocious eldest son of an affluent family of butchers and farmers. He talks about his university days, how he studied under John Bayley, and how he became a writer. Woven through this life story are interesting discussions of memory and recollection, and of the self and identity, and of what it means to reconstruct someone's life into a biography. This episode is well worth your time, and Roger's unstinting honesty as he talks about himself and others will stop you in your tracks and make you laugh. Enjoy this.At the end of this episode Gyles and Harriet have an exciting announcement about the Rosebud Family, the new subscription service we're launching in the new year 2026. More details coming soon! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Send us a textFollow Aysia on Tiktok here and Twitter here!Join Cam and Aysia_Is_Messy to break down every detail of Taylor Swift's new song off her new album, The Life of a Showgirl, Elizabeth Taylor.Swifties buckle up because we're talking Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and a ton of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, and all the exquisite Tayvis implications of this song!Support the show

Actor and director Chad Lowe sits down with Steve for one of the most deeply honest, funny, and unexpectedly emotional conversations we've had on Still Here Hollywood. From growing up in the shadow of a wildly famous big brother to discovering his own path through acting, sobriety, fatherhood, and directing, Chad tells the story of a life shaped by love, rivalry, reinvention — and a few surreal Hollywood moments. He opens up about the early days when teenage girls hung posters of Rob but not him… auditioning for roles that went on to define a generation (On Golden Pond, Running on Empty, Goonies, Say Anything)… and the moment River Phoenix's performance inspired him to become a better actor. Chad shares how Martin Sheen changed the course of his life on one unforgettable car ride, how he overcame paralyzing audition anxiety, and why Life Goes On became the most meaningful work of his career. For the first time, Chad also walks us through the real story behind Hilary Swank's Oscar speech, how he actually felt in the car afterward, why he cried at the ceremony, and how the two of them found peace and perspective years later. We cover the state of Hollywood post-strikes, directing 911: Lone Star alongside Rob, taking his daughters to Taylor Swift (and surviving the ticket wars), his years of sobriety, what scares him most as a “girl dad,” and how a tuna melt changed his life at Elizabeth Taylor's house. It's heartfelt, self-deprecating, and full of moments that remind you why Chad Lowe has quietly built one of the most beloved, complicated, fascinating careers in the business. A must-watch episode for anyone who knows the highs and lows of following your own path — even when the world thinks it already knows who you are. Show Credits Host/Producer: Steve Kmetko All things technical: Justin Zangerle Executive Producer: Jim Lichtenstein Music by: Brian Sanyshyn Transcription:  Mushtaq Hussain   https://stillherehollywood.com http://patreon.com/stillherehollywood Suggest Guests at: stillherehollywood@gmail.com Advertise on Still Here Hollywood: jim@stillherenetwork.com Publicist: Maggie Perlich: maggie@numbertwelvemarketing.com   Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See https://pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

En septembre 2019, Jean-Alphonse Richard consacrait un épisode de 'Confidentiel' à Elizabeth Taylor. Elizabeth Taylor n'était pas simplement une actrice aux yeux violets envoûtants. Ni une icône hollywoodienne sans faille... Derrière ses diamants et sa beauté légendaire, se cachaient des luttes personnelles et une quête incessante d'amour et de liberté. Invité : Antoine Cyr, spécialiste du cinéma américain et auteur de "Hollywood, la cité des femmes", coédité par l'Institut Lumière et Actes Sud.Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

1. Taylor Swift live updates: Singer reportedly flies to UK to film music video for ‘Elizabeth Taylor' (Page Six) (17:10) 2. TikTok Influencer Emily Mariko Is Pregnant and Expecting Her 2nd Baby with Husband Matt Rickard (PEOPLE) (25:21) 3. Exes Ryan Seacrest and Julianne Hough to Reunite for Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve 2026 (PEOPLE) (30:23) 4. Lizzo Says Plus-Size Women Are Being ‘Erased,' Society Must ‘Undo' the Effects of ‘Ozempic Boom'(PEOPLE) (33:59) - Dear Toasters Advice Segment (42:36) The Toast with Claudia Oshry (@girlwithnojob) and Margo Oshry (@margoshry)The Toast Patreon ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Toast Merch⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Girl With No Job by Claudia Oshry⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠The Camper & The Counselor⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Lean In⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode, Ryan and Ashley Summers (Squirrel and Spud) use Taylor Swift's new song "Elizabeth Taylor" as an entry point to analyze Gale Weathers in the requel era before entering Scream 7. Ryan and Ashley question who is Gale Weathers after Scream (2022) and Scream VI, how has she changed, and who is the woman we will meet in the next film. Then, Ryan is joined by contributors Anthony Dapuzzo (Never Split Up Podcast) and Jess Melendez to compare the different approaches to legacy sequels of Scream with the Jurassic World films.  Elizabeth Taylor: The Song and The Person Gale Weathers Post-Scream 5 & 6 Looking Ahead to Scream 7 Scream 5 vs. Jurassic Park: Dominion How Franchises Do The Requel  Follow us @ScreamWithRCS on Instagram, X, and Facebook. Subscribe at Patreon.com/screamwithrcs  Taylor Swift Song of the Day: "Elizabeth Taylor" (The Life of a Showgirl)

James Gann, Music Educator in Blount Co, TN won a blue ribbon for his pumpkin pie at the Great Smoky Mountains Heritage Center. James lets us know about the type of pumpkin he grows and his pie.Haylee Gibadowski describes how to process a fresh pumpkin for pies and shares her recipe for a gluten and dairy-free pumpkin pie that is delicious. (Recipe below, keep scrolling)Fred Sauceman's Pot Luck Radio series features novelist Adriana Trigiani, Author of Big Stone Gap, Milk Glass Moon, and Big Cherry Holler describes her Appalachian autumn memories and a little story involving Elizabeth Taylor and a chicken bone.

It's time for a weekend in the country as we discuss the 1977 film adaptation of the Stephen Sondheim musical ‘A Little Night Music'. The story follows the complicated love life of actress Desiree played by the iconic Elizabeth Taylor. Tune in and remember to send in the clowns! 

Celebrate Rock Hudson's Birthday with a Thrilling Film Review! This week on the Scary Spirits Podcast, hosts Karen and Greg raise a glass to Hollywood legend Rock Hudson, born November 17th, by diving into his haunting 1966 masterpiece, “Seconds“. Discover why this psychological thriller remains a cult classic as our hosts share insights, behind-the-scenes trivia, and their own chilling take on the film. To make the celebration even sweeter, they're sipping on a Chocolate Martini—a decadent cocktail famously created by Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor during the filming of “Giant”. Tune in for movie magic, mixology tips, and a toast to one of cinema's most iconic stars! Listen now for film history, spooky vibes, and a cocktail you'll want to try tonight! Chocolate Martini Cocktail • 1 oz Kahlua• 2 oz vodka• 1 oz Hershey’s chocolate syrup• 1 cup ice Instructions: Put all ingredients in a shaker. Shake thoroughly. Strain into a martini glass. Source: classiccelebrityrecipes.blogspot.com A Brief Synopsis: Banker Arthur Hamilton gets a call one day from a friend he thought was dead. It turns out that the friend is not a ghost, but was simply faking all along, and was placed into a new existence by a company who can give you a completely new face and life. Hamilton decides to undergo the procedure himself and becomes Tony Wilson, an artist who lives in Malibu. He is given a manservant to help him adjust but soon finds that adjusting will be the least of his worries. Some of the topics discussed and highlights of this episode include: The early life of Rock Hudson is discussed. Greg reminisces about the drink “Yoo-Hoo”. Karen tells us all about Grand Central Station. Dr. Karen teaches us about sodium pentothal. We learn about Pan and Bacchus. Our rating of the film: This movie was OK. It took us 3 cocktails to get through it. Take our online survey! We want to know more about you! Please take our survey. All questions are optional and you can remain completely anonymous if you prefer. Tell us what you like or would like to hear more of! All music on the Scary Spirits Podcast is provided by the band “Verse 13”. Please check them out. You can listen to all their music on their Bandcamp page. Get social with us! Connect with us on Facebook and Instagram Subscribe on YouTube to watch Greg attempt to make all the featured cocktails Follow @ScarySpiritsPod Questions, comments or suggestions? Shoot us an email at info@scaryspirits.com As an Amazon Associate, we may earn a small percentage of qualifying purchases through our links.

Have you been wondering what the song Elizabeth Taylor is all about? You might know the name, but get to know the person, the brand & the song in this week's episode! Grammy nominations are out! We discuss the new categories- album covers? Yes, please! As always, we catch up on what our Spotify stats are… 15 hours, 2 hours: Guess who listens to more music. You can keep up with us week to week over on our Instagram: it's the place to be! Thanks for listening! 

Grab your figs for a discussion on one of the most notorious film productions ever, it's Cleopatra from 1963! We discuss Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Rex Harrison, Roddy McDowell, spending 100k dollars on paper cups, the sets, the costumes, and everything in between. Also: Pogs! Check it out!  Ad-free versions of all of our episodes are available on our Patreon When you sign up you also get access to our bonus shows, Discord server, shout out on the show AND you get to vote on monthly episodes and themes and a 25% discount in our merch store. That's a lot for only $5 a month! For more info and to sign up visit us on Patreon You can also give a Movie Friends subscription here: Gift a Movie Friends Subscription! Visit our website Check out our merch store Send us an email! Follow us on Twitter and Instagram Fill out our listener survey

Before you make plans to invite your friends over or plan that family dinner party, hear what we have to say about Mike Nichols' 1966 drama Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in which Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton host the dinner party from Hell! Amber Lewis welcomes "The Authority on the Golden Age of Cinema" Robert Burnett back to the show!Head over to our Patreon and get started with a FREE 7-day trial. We've got plenty of exclusive content and episodes that you'll only find there! You can also sign up as a free member! Check out our YouTube Channel and subscribe now!www.afilmbypodcast.com/ for more information.Email us at afilmbypodcast@gmail.com with your questions, comments, and requests.Find us on Instagram, X, and Facebook @afilmbypodcast.

Hace cien años venía al mundo Richard Burton, el gran actor inglés y protagonista también de una de las historias de amor más famosas y extravagantes que ha dado el cine, la que vivió con Elizabeth Taylor. Celebramos el centenario de su nacimiento dándole un repaso a su vida y a su carrera cinematográfica. En nuestra sección de villanos odiosos tenemos esta semana a un personaje español: el capitán Vidal, el militar franquista al que Sergi López daba vida en “El laberinto del fauno” de Guillermo del Toro. Charlamos con el compositor Eneko Vadillo y en la sección de Bourbon “En pos de la aventura” recordamos una película de los años 80: “Los inmortales”, protagonizada por Christopher Lambert y Sean Connery.

Everybody sing it with us…. ELIZABETH TAYLOR! Today, Sara and Laura are analyzing the second track from The Life Of A Showgirl, which has quickly become one of their absolute favorites! After discussing their Eras Tour Documentary “Wi$hli$t,” the ladies analyze the song's lyrics to explore Taylor's connection to the famously beautiful and notoriously scandalous icon, Elizabeth Taylor. Musso & Frank's menu has Sara and Laura dreaming of a Swiftie field trip to Hollywood, and after listening to this episode, you'll be wanting one too! Chapters(00:00) Welcome & Introduction(00:55) What's On Our Plates(10:54) Taylor Updates(17:33) Our Eras Tour Documentary Wi$hli$t(30:41) Analyzing 'Elizabeth Taylor' Track(34:16) Folk"lore" of the Song(42:44) Intro: Asking A Muse, But Also Herself(45:13)Verse 1: Portofino Honeymoons, The Pressure Of Fame & Relationships, Past Relationships Withering Away(52:46) Chorus 1: Elizabeth's Violet Eyes, Anxiety and Paranoia, Partnership Desires(59:55) Verse 2: Gifts for Someone Like Taylor, Elizabeth's Jewelry Collection, Musso & Frank's(01:06:24) Bridge: Perfume, Ex Lovers Will Always Be Tied To Taylor(01:09:35) Chorus 3 & Outro: Max Martin Adlibs(01:11:18) Music Theory Production Notes(01:12:49) Favorite Lyrics & Rating(01:14:04) This Song As A Recipe(01:19:40) Signing Off!SUPPORT US ON PATREON! Show us some love and get monthly bonus episodes and first dibs on upcoming episode ideas. We'd be enchanted to have you join our Swiftie community!Links ReferencedTaylor Swift's Otter T-Shirt Inspires Fundraiser with Over $2.2 Million Donated to Sea AnimalsTaylor Swift Donates $100K to Toddler Fighting Brain Cancer: 'Sending the Biggest Hug'Ruby Rose Slams ‘Incredibly Stupid' Criticism of Taylor Swift's ‘Trad Wife' Lyrics on ‘Showgirl': ‘Stop It'Taylor Swift Just Revealed the Inspo Behind Her Song “Elizabeth Taylor” and It's So, So SweetA Guide to the Old Hollywood Restaurant in Taylor Swift's ‘Elizabeth Taylor'Old Saint Nick's Chocolate Espresso MartiniPlease make sure to subscribe and leave a review. If you'd like to reach out to send in a question or comment, please do so via any of these platforms:email blankplatepod@gmail.comleave a voicemail at (717) 382-831Patreon (get bonus episodes and first dibs on episode ideas)YouTubeInstagramTikTokYou can also follow Sara and Laura individually:• Laura: Instagram and Tiktok• Sara: InstagramListen to our previous podcast: Passports & Pizza

Analizamos cómo Taylor Swift convierte la vida de la icónica actriz Elizabeth Taylor en un espejo de la suya, entre amores intensos, y la presión del escrutinio público. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today we are back with breaking down the lyrics to some of our favorite songs on Taylor Swift's ‘The Life of a Showgirl'. We analyzed the intricacies of the ‘Father Figure' lyrics and the connections between Taylor Swift's masters and Scott Borchetta. ‘The Fate of Ophelia' is another song and storyline that we break down sharing the connections to Hamlet as well as all the sly connections to ‘The Tortured Poets Department' album and era are woven into this song. One of our absolute favorite songs on the album is ‘Opalite' and we share some of our favorite lyrics, how it relates to our life, the life lessons it teaches and why we think this bop is more than just a bop. Plus we share all the Elizabeth Taylor easter eggs that you need to know about while listening to the song ‘Elizabeth Taylor'.Don't miss out on more ‘The Life of a Showgirl' song deep dives coming up! Hit that follow button so you don't miss any future episodes.SHOP OUR MERCH: www.typicaltuesdaynight.comSPONSORS:WALLI (ttn for 10% off): https://wallicases.com/?rstr=ttn Just Ingredients (TTN10 for 10% off): https://just.crrnt.app/Vjw9vgNxGet Away Today (TTN10 for $10 off) https://www.getawaytoday.com/?referrerid=9380Love Olive Co (TTNPOD for 10% off) https://loveoliveco.com/?ref=TTNPODTaylor Swift Podcast || Taylor Swift || Taylor Swift Songs || Taylor Swift Music || Taylor Swift Albums || The Life of a ShowgirlSend us a textSupport the showFollow along to hear a new Taylor Swift related episode every single Tuesday.Watch our episodes on YouTube!Follow Us On Social Media:Typical Tuesday Night Podcast @typicaltuesdaynight.podcastKarli @everyday_ellisJess @jess.taitJoin our Patreon for bonus episodes and exclusive Taylor Swift group chat!Shop Our Merch!Feel free to contact us at typicaltuesdaynightpodcast@gmail.com

After having to skip an episode due to Josh being held captive in Andrew's basement last week, our hosts can finally have a dialogue over the latest Lanthimos/Stone collab, Bugonia! Diving into the sci-fi (maybe?) thriller, they debate over all the conspiracy theories, politics, the ending, and which Lanthimos movie is worthy of being put in the vault before the green planet is saved. Then they get into One More Thing, bringing up the 1950s Technicolor Knight epic Ivanhoe (starring the always stunning Elizabeth Taylor) and friend-of-the-pod Katie Carter's new Substack The Tea is Going Out along with her upcoming Forbidden Hollywood screening of Smarty at the Arkadin Cinema & Bar in St. Louis.Until then, read on at thetake-up.com and follow us @thetakeupstl on Instagram, Twitter, Letterboxd, and Facebook. Special thanks to Social Media Manager Kayla McCulloch and Contributor Ethan Tarantella. Theme music by AMP.

En Los Originales Jaime Sánchez Cristo, Nicolás Samper, Karl Troller, Daniela Pinto, Orlando Rivera y Emilio Sánchez hablan sobre el Instagram de Jaime Sánchez, sobre el árbol de Navidad en el Rockefeller Center de N.Y. y los 7 maridos que tuvo Elizabeth Taylor.

In this part two of our 2019 Elizabeth Taylor story, we pick up with her tumultuous two marriages to Richard Burton, her attempt to find something like a normal life with Virginia Senator John Warner, and her last marriage and divorce from Larry Fortensky, whom she remained close to for the rest of her life. It's hard to imagine a more iconic figure, or a more perfect subject for this podcast.   Use code trashy at the following link to get an exclusive 60% off an annual Incogni plan: incogni.com/trashy Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this part two of our 2019 Elizabeth Taylor story, we pick up with her tumultuous two marriages to Richard Burton, her attempt to find something like a normal life with Virginia Senator John Warner, and her last marriage and divorce from Larry Fortensky, whom she remained close to for the rest of her life. It's hard to imagine a more iconic figure, or a more perfect subject for this podcast.   Use code trashy at the following link to get an exclusive 60% off an annual Incogni plan: incogni.com/trashy Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

As we proceed with this week's Elizabeth Taylor takeover, we're revisiting one of our favorite episodes ever: 2019's story of the screen legend's life and many, many loves, joined by Erica Kelley from Southern Fried True Crime. This edition takes us through her first marriage - arranged by her studio, naturally - through the tragic loss of Mike Todd, and onto the married Eddie Fisher, husband of her friend Debbie Reynolds. We'll be back Sunday with the rest of Elizabeth's wild marital ride. Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

As we proceed with this week's Elizabeth Taylor takeover, we're revisiting one of our favorite episodes ever: 2019's story of the screen legend's life and many, many loves, joined by Erica Kelley from Southern Fried True Crime. This edition takes us through her first marriage - arranged by her studio, naturally - through the tragic loss of Mike Todd, and onto the married Eddie Fisher, husband of her friend Debbie Reynolds. We'll be back Sunday with the rest of Elizabeth's wild marital ride. Use code trashy at the following link to get an exclusive 60% off an annual Incogni plan: incogni.com/trashy Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The only music more powerful than Taylor Swift is kids' music. ‘Golden' makes it back into the top 10, along with Alex Warren. AJ McLean of The Backstreet Boys made a fire remix of Taylor Swift's Elizabeth Taylor. Can the gang guess the first COUNTRY song ever played on MTV? The margarita proves again it's a superior choice. Hate Halloween but love likes? There's an app for that! Plus, zippers are a monopoly - who knew! Plus, when did that happen?

Confidence is king, and it can be soul crushing to have to start over and over. YOU GOT THIS! In sports news, World Series tickets carry a big price tag. It's not worth it if the Giants aren't playing. The MVP of the Dodgers is almost too humble. Diane Keaton just made her solo debut on the music charts, posthumously - get ready to cry this Christmas. Don't let winter get the best of you this year, have a warm drink. Is Halloween actually the worst holiday for single people? Janelle Monáe can time travel, and she's not wasting it. Kevin Federline calls for the #freeBritney movement to reunite to #saveBritney. Scott Budman is on the show, and Vinnie wants to know if AI is going to ruin humanity. Even AI jobs are being cut because AI is getting so efficient. Scott also shares his thoughts on erotic AI content and whether Chat GPT will make Google Search obsolete. Bad Advice is BACK: badadvice973@gmail.com. A listener's new boyfriend lives above his landlord, who also happens to be his ex. The landlord/ex seems to have a lot of excuses to stop by; what should our listener do? OpenAI has launched a browser: Chat GPT Atlas. Vinnie's telling us about things that used to be normal that are now a luxury. Have you peaked? Your music taste might have. The only music more powerful than Taylor Swift is kids' music. ‘Golden' makes it back into the top 10, along with Alex Warren. AJ McLean of The Backstreet Boys made a fire remix of Taylor Swift's Elizabeth Taylor. Can the gang guess the first COUNTRY song ever played on MTV? The margarita proves again it's a superior choice. Hate Halloween but love likes? There's an app for that! Plus, zippers are a monopoly - who knew! Plus, when did that happen?

In this Pregame edition of Calm Down with Erin Andrews and Charissa Thompson, the ladies open up about what keeps them motivated and grounded as they continue to live out their dream jobs. Erin and Charissa share the behind-the-scenes moments that fuel their passion every day. They also explain why Elizabeth Taylor and Ruin the Friendship are their new favorite tracks from Life of a Showgirl. These songs are personal, powerful, and a true reflection of their experiences in the entertainment world. A listener asks How would you introduce your current self to your younger self? Erin and Charissa share a good laugh but also reflect on the advice they’d give their younger self.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In our continuing “Elizabeth Taylor Takeover” this week, we remember that time that Dominick Dunne profiled Elizabeth Taylor in 1985 for Vanity Fair. At this time in her life, Elizabeth Taylor was back on top after battling addiction as well as doing extraordinary work bringing attention to AIDS and fundraising to fight the disease. Our man Nick is namedropping like normal in this one, but he is allowed to – the pair are old friends, after all. Sources ⁠⁠Fatal Charms and the Mansions of Limbo⁠⁠, by Dominick Dunne (Amazon link) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In our continuing “Elizabeth Taylor Takeover” this week, we remember that time that Dominick Dunne profiled Elizabeth Taylor in 1985 for Vanity Fair. At this time in her life, Elizabeth Taylor was back on top after battling addiction as well as doing extraordinary work bringing attention to AIDS and fundraising to fight the disease. Our man Nick is namedropping like normal in this one, but he is allowed to – the pair are old friends, after all. Sources ⁠⁠Fatal Charms and the Mansions of Limbo⁠⁠, by Dominick Dunne (Amazon link) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Elizabeth Taylor from “The Life of a Showgirl” is full of references to the famous actress, but it's also full of confidence from Taylor Swift herself. Join Exquisite and Hannah as they discuss this standout track 2. Want to support Exquisite on her journey to becoming a professor? Donate here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://gofund.me/ceaf3b27d⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Enjoy the episode? ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Support The Taylor Seminars on Ko-fi! ❤️⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠And don't forget to join the conversation with #ShowgirlSeminars on X/Twitter Follow us on Twitter:- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠taylorseminars⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@⁠⁠⁠sippingaugust ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠(Hannah)- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@⁠⁠⁠exquisitewill⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠(Exquisite)Cover Art by Alef Vernon: - ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@⁠⁠⁠alefvernonart⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠on Instagram- ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@alefvernon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ on Twitter ⁠⁠⁠Follow Alef on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

Alicia's taking over *all* the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs.  Use code trashy at the following link to get an exclusive 60% off an annual Incogni plan: incogni.com/trashy Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Alicia's taking over *all* the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs.  Want early, ad-free episodes, regular Dumpster Dives, bonus divorces, limited series, Zoom hangouts, and more? Join us at patreon.com/trashydivorces! Want a personalized message for someone in your life? Check us out on Cameo! To advertise on our podcast, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Alicia's taking over all the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs. Continue your investigation with ad-free and bonus episodes on Patreon! To advertise on Done & Dunne, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Alicia's taking over all the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs. Continue your investigation with ad-free and bonus episodes on Patreon! To advertise on Done & Dunne, please reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Alicia's taking over all the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs. Listen ad-free at patreon.com/trashyroyalspodcast. To advertise on this podcast, reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Alicia's taking over all the podcasts this week, with the stories and spiderwebs of screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. In this week's musically-themed episode, Alicia breaks down some of the lyrics in Taylor Swift's new track, Elizabeth Taylor, from her album The Life of a Showgirl. From Portofino to the very best table at Musso & Frank's, certain themes resonate across these two titanic figures in American pop culture - and leave our podcasts absolutely covered in spiderwebs. Listen ad-free at patreon.com/trashyroyalspodcast. To advertise on this podcast, reach out to info@amplitudemediapartners.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textTrack 2 on "The Life of a Showgirl" - Elizabeth TaylorI'm back with Forensic Musicologist Dr. Joe BennettIn this episode we look at:The chord progressionChord inversionsTensionsHarmonic rhythmPhrase lengthsMelismaWriting from a titleMelodic hooksTo sign up with the virtual live master class "The Songwriting of Taylor Swift" with Scarlet Keys: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/1811786424969?aff=oddtdtcreatorMailing list:https://www.scarletkeys.com/Instagram: @scarletkeysofficialBecome a member of the What's in a song songwriting community or become a supporter:https://buymeacoffee.com/scarlet.keysScarlet's instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scarletkeysofficial/To purchase Scarlet Keys' book "What if it All Goes Right: Practicing Hope in the Hardest Times" featured on NPR and the Wall Street Journal:https://www.amazon.com/What-All-Goes-Right-Practicing/dp/B0CTYVQ9Q8To purchase Scarlet Keys' book "The Craft of Songwriting:https://www.amazon.com/Craft-Songwriting-Music-Meaning-Emotion/dp/0876391927/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2PP55NU6E9ST6&keywords=the+craft+of+songwriting&qid=1659573139&sprefix=the+craft+of+songwritin%2Caps%2C153&sr=8-1To learn more about forensic musicology and professor Joe Bennett: https://joebennett.net/Mixed by Peter Sykes: https://www.petersykesmusic.com/Otto Gross: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMnxx19QD-vxD4wnYGTn3JwScarlet's website: https://www.scarletkeys.comScarlet's instagram: https://www.instagram.com/scarletkeysofficial/To purchase Scarlet Keys' book "The Craft of Songwriting:https://www.amazon.com/Craft-Songwriting-Music-Meaning-Emotion/dp/0876391927/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2PP55NU6E9ST6&keywords=the+craft+of+songwriting&qid=1659573139&sprefix=the+craft+of+songwritin%2Caps%2C153&sr=8-1

Summary In this episode of the Living Magically Podcast, hosts Shelby and Courtney explore various themes including the inspiration behind naming Shelby's new son Chase, the unpredictable nature of social media content creation, and a deep dive into Taylor Swift's latest album The Life of a Showgirl. The hosts also discuss their personal joys, particularly focusing on the importance of home and crafting. They delve into the themes of superstition in music, particularly in Taylor Swift's songs, and share their interpretations and rankings of her latest tracks. The conversation also touches on the significance of love and personal connections, as well as the challenges of dealing with insurance and healthcare. They discuss the importance of authenticity in content creation, the impact of life phases on music appreciation, and share their experiences with Disney events and themed marathons. The conversation highlights the joy of community and the challenges of navigating online opinions. In this episode, the hosts delve into the intricacies of a recent music video and its accompanying album, discussing various tracks and their meanings. They explore the production aspects of the music video, the storytelling elements in the songs, and the personal connections listeners may have with the lyrics. The conversation flows through a track-by-track analysis, highlighting themes of inspiration, personal reflection, and the evolution of Taylor Swift's artistry. Takeaways The Fate of Ophelia music video contains many hidden elements that enhance its depth. We wonder what happens to music video sets once they're done filming (Taylor, mail us something!)  The Life of a Showgirl album draws inspiration from various artists, including Lana Del Rey, The Jackson 5, and more. Elizabeth Taylor's song reflects on wealth and storytelling in a unique way. Opalite symbolizes the idea that happiness can be man-made. Father Figure explores themes of perspective and storytelling and is maybe definitely about Scooter Braun. Eldest Daughter resonates with listeners through relatable themes of family dynamics. Ruin the Friendship reflects on youthful experiences and generational differences. Actually Romantic addresses societal trolls with humor and wit. Wishlist emphasizes personal aspirations and the importance of individual happiness.

The Showgirl era is in full sparkle — and we've got plenty of SwifTEA to spill!  After a whirlwind release weekend, the 13 Podcast is breaking down The Life of a Showgirl with fresh ears, movie theater emotions, and a helicopter view you have to hear about to believe.  Join Ana & Nick as they recap Taylor's record-breaking weekend, the mysterious orange doors that appeared across the globe, and why “Elizabeth Taylor” might just be the standout of the album. Plus, hear what it was like flying over the Dallas skyline with Longhorn Helicopters and seeing the Omni Dallas Hotel light up in glittering orange to celebrate the new era — the same spot that'll host our Swifties in the City release party on October 17th!  We're sending big thank-yous to Omni Dallas Hotel and Longhorn Helicopters for helping us celebrate this magical launch weekend in true Showgirl fashion.   Tickets for Swifties in the City are just $13 at www.the13podcast.net — and don't forget about shhhhh sessions!  Tell us your favorite song from the new album & tag us on socials @the13podcast.It's time to sparkle, Swifties — this era's all about orange doors, big dreams, and even bigger joy.   Stay Connected with 13: A Taylor Swift Fan Podcast Join the conversation in our exclusive Lobster Lounge: station.page/13  Contact the Podcast  Voicemail: (689) 214-1313  Email: the13podcast@gmail.com  Instagram: @the13podcast  TikTok: @the13podcast  Twitter/X: @the13TSpodcast  YouTube: 13: A Taylor Swift Fan Podcast  Follow the Hosts  Ana – @anaszabo13  Lacey – @laceygee13  Amy – @amysnichols  Nick – @heynickadams Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices