Last fall I worked my ass off at a Christmas tree farm in Washington state.

From sunup to sundown, I chopped and wrapped trees until my hands were rough with sap and my biceps were solid as branches. At bars, girls would tell me I smelled like a pinecone.

I’d been laid off and was living with my dad, so when the tree gig came up, I jumped at the chance to get outside. Then, when I heard they needed people to drive the trees south to sunny Los Angeles and sell them in a lot, I jumped twice as fast — Washington women might look good in flannel and might be able to drink you under the table, but I wanted to meet some Beverly Hills mamas with long fingernails and huge tits on tiny bodies.

Well, it didn’t exactly turn out that way. Not only was I living in a shitty trailer with three other migrant workers and slinging Douglas firs all day outside a big-box retailer, but the only women I was meeting were old ladies.

I headed to the local mall on my one day off. One advantage of the tree job was that food and lodging were paid for, even if both sucked, so the paycheck was like a lump sum of fun money. Flush with cash, I thought I’d get all my Christmas shopping done early and go home with presents rather than doing it all online.

So I took a bus to a big mall out in the Valley. It was just nice to be somewhere else. I wasn’t even thinking about women until I saw the hot she-elf.

She walked into the Starbucks in her outfit, clearly caffeinating herself for her shift with the mall Santa. I had already seen women I figured for porn stars at random places, in their come-fuck-me yoga pants, but I could not believe this girl. She had olive skin, and tits that nicely strained her red and white fringed elf suit — a one-piece thing that ended in a skirt that was, frankly, ridiculous. When she sat down, I could tell the metal chair was cooling part of her ass. Her thighs looked delicious.

Because I was wearing non-sap-stained clothes for the first time in a week, because I had coffee in me for the first time in a week, and because I actually had a wad of cash in my pocket as opposed to paying with everything with my phone, I felt extra confident. I walked over to her and asked if I could join her.

“Jesus, yes, please,”she said. “You’re over ten and under 40.”

She said her name was Adi, and she had an accent she told me was Israeli. It turns out she was a migrant worker, too.

“I got fired from my nanny job and I had to get some work before I go home,”she said. “So I find this job because I answer an ad for ‘Children’s Photography Assistant.’ Then I find out it’s really ‘Work for Alcoholic Santa.’

“I got fired from the nanny job because the wife thought I was fucking the husband,”she said.

“Were you?”

“Of course not. He was disgusting. And the only people I meet here are 45-year-old dads who make stupid jokes and ask if they can sit on my lap… ”

I told her that I thought we could help each other out.

“Help each other out?”she asked.

“I’m saying it would be a lot of fun to fuck later,”I said, going for broke.

“Oh, yes,”she said. “Tonight. I will be done by nine o’clock. Meet me here.”

I leaned over and gave her a long, slow kiss right there in the Starbucks, and she let me glide my hand the length of the underside of her thigh. She even spread her legs the slightest bit, but not enough to be shocking.

“See you tonight,”I said.

I unbuckled my jeans and pushed them down to the floor, letting my cock spring out.

She Israeli fucking hot, I thought.

Well, I had eight hours to kill, so I did all my Christmas shopping (including running out of the mall to buy some condoms at a nearby drugstore), got lunch at a chain steakhouse, and regularly scoped her out while riding up and down the escalator. I wanted to punch that Santa in his meat-flap face every time he blatantly ogled my Israeli Elf Maiden.

Finally 9 p.m. came. I arrived with my bags of treasures and stood silently, menacingly by Adi while Santa tried to put the moves on her. He eventually gave up. I’m definitely getting coal in my stocking this year for cockblocking Santa.

On my trip outside the mall, I’d spotted a cheap motel. I was totally up for a squalid romp on a spotty mattress. Double points if the bed was coin-operated. I was about to express this feeling to Adi when she motioned me into the tiny North Pole house she and Santa used to store their street clothes and Diet Cokes.

“We’ll do it here,”she said.

“What about the — ?”

“The security guard knows.”

I wasn’t going to ask what arrangement my Jewish Christmas miracle had with the mall cop.

Adi walked over to a plastic chair and perched her foot on it to untie her boot, but I stopped her there. I’d been thinking about her ass all day, so I strode over and held her from behind. With my left hand I grabbed her left hip; with my right, I traced my thumb across the warm, dampening crotch of her sensible elf panties. She pushed back slightly as I held her in place, digging my fingers into her hip. I squeezed her vulva through the fabric and felt the heat pulsing inside.

I wasn’t about to fuck her this way, though I lingered for a while, seeing how wet I could get her. Her pussy was full and puffy.

I let her go and she pulled off her boots, standing solid and barefoot before me. I unbuckled my jeans and pushed them down to the floor, letting my cock spring out. You can imagine that it would be difficult rubbing one out in a crappy trailer full of lumberjacks, so I had about ten days’ worth built up. Adi was about to drop to her knees to deliver a blowjob to my rock-hard, neglected north pole, but I had to see what was under the elf outfit.

“Take it off,”I said.

“No, it’s cold — “

“Take it off.”

Adi unzipped the cheap zipper and pulled off the one-piece ridiculous(-ly sexy) skirt outfit. She was wearing a men’s v-neck t-shirt underneath. That came off next, revealing a dark purple bra and panty set. Her breasts were huge and full.

I wanted her buck naked when she blew me, so I unsnapped her bra, my dick poking her in the mouth as I did so, and pulled down her wet panties, crotch first. She was a desert goddess. She moaned in a strangely businesslike way at this point, as if she was getting exactly what she wanted, just as she knew she would.

At that point, I realized I didn’t want a blowjob. We said we were going to fuck, and I was going to fuck her. She was ready, too. I pulled a condom from my pocket (this wasn’t my first rodeo — I wasn’t going to root through my bags and rip open a box and all that bullshit) and, after indulging a quick whim of slapping her in her hot face for a few seconds with my cock, I rolled it on.

“From behind,”Adi said.

“Your ass?”I said.

“My cunt,”she said.

She grabbed the back of the chair, which was flimsy, and braced it against the wall, which was flimsy. I trusted this girl could withstand ten days of my pent-up logjam. With her feet spread and her ass pointing at me, her bush riding beneath like a hair beacon, I guided my Scud missile in, grabbing each hip once I was there.

It’s normally important to me, as a man, not to come after five strokes, but that is what I wanted to do. I forced myself to take it slow, pushing in and pulling out slowly over the eight inches of my shaft. Her moans turned to grunts as she pushed back at me, impatient. I quieted her with some stinging slaps to her firm, thick ass.

After five minutes we were rocking in rhythm, and I could feel her bracing to come. I knew this would be the hardest part for me, as her contractions would seek to push me out and I would thrust harder to stay in. And I was desperately trying not to come. But I fucked her through it, the sounds of the nighttime mall coming through the cheap plywood of Santa’s corrupted house, her pussy soaking the rubber on my cock.

“Take it off and fuck me,”she said. “There won’t be any babies.”

That’s not what I’m worried about, I thought, thinking of the mall security guard, maybe even Santa…

But fuck, I wanted to fuck her, and to come on that pulsing clit that she showed me, as she turned around and lay back on the floor, her dirty bare feet in the air.

“Do it,”she said.

I prayed to the soon-to-arrive Baby Jesus that I wouldn’t regret this in seven to ten days, but I needed to get in there again. A sheen of perspiration coated Adi’s belly and her spread cunt was florid. I grabbed her thighs from the underside and buried myself in, bending now and then to kiss her until I had the choice of either coming or stopping to regroup.

“In my cunt,”she said, as if she read my thoughts (or my glazed-over look). “Come inside my cunt.”

Ten more strokes and I did. I felt as if it were being pulled from me like an endless handkerchief from a magician’s hat. At the end I pulled out slightly, creaming her clit with a final spurt. Then I reached inside her and brought her soppy cunt off one more time while my cock rested.

We met twice more before she left — each time more like an actual date that ended in a ball-draining hoedown within earshot of people who wished they were us. I rented a car and dropped her at the international terminal on Christmas Eve.

“You made me feel very nice,”she said.

“You too,”I said.

I don’t think I’ll see her again, but I will never forget how an Israeli elf taught me the true meaning of Christmas.

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