Dumbledore's Mistress

Chapter 1

It was a cold November evening. Dumbledore just returned from the kitchen, his hands both holding two warm cups of hot chocolate. Upon entering the living room he almost dropped them in surprise. His mistress had positioned himself from the recliner to the large leather couch in the middle of the room. "Santa, dear..." he stumbled, "w-what are you doing?" Santa lay naked across the couch. He didn't reply, instead he ran his moist and sticky tongue around his succulent red lips. His eyes seductively traveled down to his nether regions. His large member was erect and pulsing with anticipation. It looked like a large thorny cucumber, the tip glowed a bright shade of red. Dumbledore was left gasping for air at the sight, his horniness consuming his entire being. Within seconds, the hot chocolate was long forgotten. Dumbledore made a mad dash and spread Santa out spread eagle. Dumbledore didn't waste any time with formalities. His face headed straight for Santa's soggy and luscious ass. He very lovingly and delicately began to peel apart thin slices of dried excrement from Santa's bouncy cheeks like one would pull apart a freshly baked croissant. "Mmmmmhmm" they moaned in unison. As he finished lapping up the last of the gourmet meal, Dumbledore began to take his clothes off. His penis was engorged and dripping with mucus, wizards produce mucus instead of sperm, God chose to do this after he accidentally gave men the right to reproduce, he didn't want to make the same mistake twice. Things were heating up quickly. Fluids were mixing rapidly and the room was warming up. Both Santa and Dumbledore were panting furiously. Santa stopped chewing Dumbledore's swollen member for long enough to pick the last of the dried excrement from Dumbledore's beard and placed them into his own mouth, savoring the flavor of decomposition. After it was all said and done both men were left naked, hot and out of breath. Their naked bodies glistened in the candlelight and the room smelled of rot. Unbeknownst to them, a silent figure was approaching. Mr Krabs walked into the scene, the room steamy with sex. He dropped the bags in his arms that carried the weeks groceries. Santa noticed him and screamed. In less than a blink of an eye Mr Krabs reached them. He used his big meaty claws and began to rip flesh from bone. Neither man felt a thing as they were dismembered so quickly their brain had no time to process pain. The smell of iron filled the room. Alone and satisfied, Mr Krabs left his shell. Even in his most vulnerable state he felt powerful. His pink, wrinkled, and soggy body felt cool air for the first time in years. Mr Krabs started to slosh around in the mush that he had made of the two cheaters. He couldn't get enough of it. The sound of his body sloshing around with the bloody remains of the old men can only be described as moist. It turned Mr Krabs on so much he began to start shoving meat and blood and guts straight into his asshole. It was a slippery slope from there. He didn't know how to stop. He couldn't stop. Not until both men resided inside him. He never finished. Before he even made it through half of the massacre his colon burst. This would have been an easily survival injury for Krabs, but he didnt know that Santa Claus, a former catholic priest, had received every sexual disease under the stars. The threesome died doing what they loved, and that's all that really matters.