Twas the Night Before December 25th: Part I
twas the night before 12/25, and all through the country
not a believer was praying, not even mitt romney.
s&m gear amassed in closets where stored,
awaiting the moment “santa” showed, to commence the beatings
once more.
the children were awake, because they just couldn’t sleep,
scared that in every shadow lurked a horny catholic priest.
and mamma with her PVC, and i with my strap,
were trying out new safe-words, before a short sedative nap.
when during our haze, the orgasms did erupt n’ shutter
we cut the massage quick to wipe up our splatter.
and off to the shower, we floated, high as kites,
to wash off the love juices and jump start our night.
outside on the streets, there was nothing but snow
while inside the clubs, there was nothing but blow.
and what to our wandering eyes did arise,
but a sleigh get-up & a santa with bulging acid eyes.
he was far from agile, void of balance and wit,
and i knew in a heart beat he’d love chomping the bit.
so we took him back with us, hooking him up to the machine,
and we shocked him & swatted him till’ the safe word he
screamed.
“now dasher! now dasher!” what an appropriate phrase,
we thought as we untied him so he could sleep off the pain.
after locking him in the basement with a bucket to piss
we went back out into the night to find us another idiot.
there were quite a few santas stumbling drunkenly through the eve,
with corresponding elves who were puking out their spleens.
and on any given corner, dressed scantily to the hilt,
hookers in complete costume were out for the kill.
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