Not for kids...... Oddly enough, I wrote this with Bryan by my side, but he wasn't reading what I was typing.....
Anyway, if you know "'Twas the night before Christmas", you'll be familiar with this.......
'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house,
There was a spider at the ceiling, in my own house,
Its webs were hung from curtain to chair,
In hopes that a fly or a moth will soon get stuck there.
The kids were sprawled out, all snoring in their beds,
While visions of crocodiles and Kesha thrashed in their heads,
With Derrick in his boxers and I in my dacks,
Had just settled our arguments about some crap.
When in the bedroom the thing arose was a matter,
I sprang from the bed when I disagreed with THAT matter,
Away to the toilet I flew like a flash,
Tore open a pack of earplugs to put an end to the clash....
The mood in the room was sullen and low,
I was in no mood with doing, with him, anything "down below"
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my very reliable vibrator with one big vibrating gear....
With a little lever, it jumped lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be MY stiff dick,
More rapid than before, I cried when I came,
After which I sighed in relief and I gave it a name.
Maybe Adam or Bruce or maybe Dick-son!
Christopher, Danny, Elvis and even Richard Nixon?
Whatever it was it had me climbing the wall,
Now the feeling is ebbing away, away with it all.
Not as dry as before, and my wild hair fly,
When I meet with an obstacle, I let profanity fly,
So up to no good, I let my fantasies stew,
With a drawer full of toys and dirty magazines too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard a little "hoomph",
The snoring of Derrick right through the roof,
As I drew in my head, and turned around,
I fantasised a hunky man coming with a bound.
He was dressed all in Zegna, from head to his foot,
And he had manly cologne and he smelt oh so good,
A bundle of joy, he was hung in the sack,
And he looked like Marcel Nguyen, with a 6-pack.
His eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples how cheery!
His bum cheeks were hard, his hands were all touchy feely!
My drooly mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his hands reached lower, and lower down below.
His stump of a pipe I held tight in my teeth,
As if I was smoking it, encircling its head like a wreath,
He had a broad chest and a flat belly,
That didn't shake when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
The had a chubby, no need of a pump, alright by itself,
And I laughed when I saw him, pointing to himself,
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I was in for a treat.
He sprang to his feet, when he saw me, he gave a whistle,
And filled me up good until I felt him jerk,
And laying his finger, to where, oh he knows,
And giving a nod, up the tunnel, he rose!
At last, he sprang to his feet, and to his limo gave a whistle,
And away he flew, like a well oiled missile,
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to you, and see you again tomorrow night!"
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