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The Devil and Mrs. Claus
The Devil and Mrs. Claus
The Devil and Mrs. Claus
Ebook27 pages24 minutes

The Devil and Mrs. Claus

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Fed up with nauseating holiday cheer, the Devil himself has traveled to the North Pole to take revenge against St. Nick. His plan? To seduce Santa's sexy wife!

Will Satan be able to cuckold Kris Kringle? Or will this nefarious plot come crashing down on his horned head?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 27, 2011
ISBN9781466152120
The Devil and Mrs. Claus

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    The Devil and Mrs. Claus - Charles Markwell

    The Devil and Mrs. Claus

    by Charles Markwell

    Published by Mutant Alliance Press at Smashwords

    Copyright 2012 Charles Markwell

    All Rights Reserved

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Warning: this ebook contains graphic sexual depictions and is intended solely for adult audiences. All characters portrayed are fictional and are a minimum of 18 years of age.

    The Devil and Mrs. Claus

    From far outside her window, I could see Mrs. Claus dressing. But she couldn’t see me. Ho, ho, ho -- she didn’t look like a Norman Rockwell painting, that was for sure. Elves aged slowly, so even though she was technically hundreds of years old, she looked like a college sophomore. She had auburn hair to her mid-back, long shapely legs, and pert b-cup titties bound in a red-and-green lingerie set.

    Lucky fat fucking Kris Kringle.

    Christmas. I’ve always hated Christmas, ever since little you-know-who popped from his mommy’s immaculate vagina. But it’s been a million times worse since the bastard Saint Nick came along. As if it wasn’t hard enough dealing with all of the sober religious reflection and vomit-inducing piety, now my demon-minions had to overcome spontaneous gift exchanges. It was enough to make a lesser angel give in, and by lesser angel I mean any of the lackeys who chose to keep groveling at the Old Man’s boots.

    But I wasn’t one of those angels. I was superior. I wouldn’t give in. And I’d shown up at Santa’s Workshop

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