(First - I want to apologise to my fellow grippers. This is a warm over of a past post, or what radio talkers call "an encore performance". Right. I was hoping to write a new poem for Christmas and made some stabs at a yellow pad and then got horribly sick and ran out of time.

But at the same time something wonderful may have happened - I think I have a new story coming on and I'm hot on it. Lisabet? Yeah - I think it's THAT one. We'll see soon. Please accept this blast from the past in the meantime, at least this year I won't be grousing about how much I hate Christmas. Especially if Santa has given me an interesting new story to write . . . Garce)




Twas the night before Christmas and all through the brothel
All the women complained that their tips had been awful.

The johns were all hung, but with a casual air.
When it came down to cold cash, they just wouldn’t share.

Mistresses had been fucked, smiling smug in their beds
As visions of sugar daddies danced in their heads.

Mistress Domina Gretchen, my jack booted Hessian
Had me trussed nice and tight for a long dungeon session.

When over her cussing, as she paddled my rear
There outside in the dark, I heard something draw near.

Then fell from the sky with a flirt and a flitter
A tiny red sleigh drawn by eight naked strippers.

As naked as jaybirds his tanned Valkyries came;
He whipped them; he spanked them as he called them by name:

“Now Nixie! Now Trixie! Now Nikki! Now Vixen!
Come Dixie! Come Candy! Come Bunny! Come Bitchin!

“Mount up to the rooftop! Show them tease and pizzazz –
then let’s all party down cause I’m freezing my ass!”

Down the chimney he came, with a bounce and a bound,
He tossed down his big bag and he looked all around.

Then Saint Nick threw off his clothes, that randy old kook
And bellowed “Out of my way, you tight fisted mooks!

“I’m Santa, I’m hot, I’m hard and I’m horny –
I’ve brought my elf girls, now let’s have an orgy!”

Johns hid their faces, girls cried “I’m naughty! Do me!”
Cause that Santa Claus, man, he was hung to his knee.

Then from out of the wind, from the snow and the cold
The girls dropped down the chimney and set up their poles.

How their nipples were perky – their butt cheeks how merry!
Sixteen titties a-jiggle like bowls full of jelly.

How they lap-danced! How they dazzled! Johns emptied their pockets.
Santa ploughed through the women like a love hungry rocket.

The women squealed when they came, came hard and came thrice,
While the girls showed the men unknown levels of vice.

And when all was over, the sated saint satyr
Looked deep in his bag and ho hoed as he scattered

Loving gifts to this crowd as they gathered and grew.
“I just know that God loves you, so I love you too!”

There were dildoes for ladies, and cock rings for men.
Fur lined handcuffs for me, a bull whip for Gretchen.

Then punching my shoulder, he smiled and he winked
Said “Those ought to hold you till next year, I think.”

He put on his clothes, then to his girls gave a whistle,
Up the chimney they flew like the down of a thistle.

I heard him exclaim as he took off towards Niagara –
“Good lovin’ to you all, and thank God for Viagra!”



C. Sanchez-Garcia