Short Story Poem | Twas The Naughty Night Before Christmas

Twas the naughty night before Christmas, and at my front door
Not a soul there was stirring, except for my whore;
Her thigh-high stockings and thong were worn with care
In hopes that my thick cock soon would be there.
Her tits were nestled all snug in her tight shirt
While cold air nipped there till they were ripe and pert.
And her in her heat, and I in my good luck
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's fuck.

When out on my porch there arose such a clatter
As her black heels leapt up with the rest of her matter.
Away to the living room with her legs clenching my waist
I slammed the front door shut and ran to the couch in haste.
The moon, on her breasts colored like new-fallen snow,
Shone with a luster like her lust shown below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should see,
But round her hips a little red bow and a card for me.
With a smile and quick swipe I snatched up the tiny note
And I read aloud what my eager slut had wrote.

More needy than ever I am thinking your name,
That I moaned and wailed what you said last time I came:
Now cumslut! Now cocksleeve! Now fuckbitch and strumpet!
On tramp! On harlot! On whore and cumbucket!
To the tip of my cock, to the top of my ball,
Cum for me, fuck for me, beg for it all!

As a dry towel that after a warm shower met
With the hand of the clean now becomes wet,
So down between her legs her hands they flew,
With a mind for a mating, and some breeding too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from her hips
The slipping and sliding of her wet pussy lips.

As I drew out my cock and was rubbing it out,
Loud was my mistress who came with a shout.
Dressed bright as a present begging to be unwrapped
So at her lingerie I ripped and her upturned ass I slapped.
A sheen of sweat had coated her from neck to back,
Enough to harden my cock and churn my sack.

Her eyes - how they narrowed! Her grin - how wide!
Her cheeks were like roses, her hips swayed side-to-side.
Her pretty little rump was drawn up high in the air
And the face of her mound was shaved dry and bare.
The head my pipe she held tight at her slick little hole
Till with a grunt and shove her evening's virginity I stole.

In swift broad strokes I drove deep into her belly
Causing her tits to jiggle and shiver like jugs full of jelly.
She begged to be plumped, rounded with my baby
And I grunted back, cock twitching with more than a maybe.
A clench of her pussy and a toss of her head
Soon gave me to know that she was ripe to be bred.

We spoke not a word, but went straight to our work
As I filled her tight stocking with a thrust and a jerk.
Then laying my hands aside her quivering waist,
I grunted and spewed out all my babymaking paste.
In ropes my spunk sprung, into her womb it did seep,
And down into the cushions we both fell in a heap.

But she heard me exclaim, ere sweet sleep closed our sight:
"Merry Christmas you slut, I've knocked you up tonight!"

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