Message-ID: <28031asstr$977688606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@news01.syd.optusnet.com.au> From: Mr Slot <dalech33@optusnet.com.au> X-Original-Message-ID: <qpvb4t0sgl5lrlign5mnjaqdn2drq3576m@4ax.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Subject: {ASSM} The Night Before Christmas {Mr Slot} (Vouyer, Bondage, Santa) Date: Sun, 24 Dec 2000 15:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/28031> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, RuiJorge The following is a work of fiction consisting of adult concepts and possibly sex. Do not read if you are not legally permitted. I don't want the police on my front doorstep. You are welcome to read but please don't distribute without my permission. Feel free to make any comments to the author. Send E-Mail to dalech33@hotmail.com ============================================================ I've been posting to ASS* for a year now, so I thought it was only fair that I give ASS* a Christmas present to show my appreciation to all those who've read my stories. Well that's my excuse. Anyhoo I've written my own, demented version of "Twas The Night Before Chrismas". Read, enjoy, and have a Merry Christmas. Mr Slot ============================================================ ('TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS) Written by Clement Clarke Moore Mutilated by Mr Slot 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Came the sounds of pants zipping, and the tearing of blouse. Clothes hung from the rafters with nary a care, And the sound of heavy breathing soon filled the air. The crack of a whip, a slap and a spank, It was soon pretty clear this was not just a wank. Their moaning grew louder, when all of a sudden, A noise from outside, a shout, then some thudding. The couple ran to the window, threw wide the curtains, Then opened the panes to the sounds of loud cursing. There on the lawn lay a man dressed in red, Swearing profusely and clutching his head. Around him lay all sorts of things in small heaps, Dildos and vibrators, an inflatable sheep. Cock rings and buzzers, butt plugs and lube, There were even some nipple clamps attached to one shoe. The man leaned out the window, his senses alert, "Oi you, on the lawn, what're you up to you pervert?" The stranger looked up, and brushed grass from his hair, Then gathered his thoughts and said with a glare. "I'm jolly saint Nick, the great Christmas Father, And I'll tell you one thing, it's pussy I'm after. I heard you two humping as I passed your abode, So I peeked through your window and near shot my load. I couldn't believe the things you were doing, You bring a new meaning to the old art of screwing. So I thought to myself, as I stood there just ogling, I wonder if they'd care if I gave her a good rogering. I'd sneak up behind her, and without too much fussing, I'd whip out some ropes and set about trussing. To the bedpost I'd tie her, her breasts slowly heaving, Her legs would be spread, to me she'd be pleading. She'd beg for my mercy, she'd plead for her life, Then she'd catch sight of my manhood, and forget she's a wife. My cock is impressive, its length is immense, It's as thick as post you would use in a fence. I'd unleash my monster, and advance on my prey, She could only lie speechless, there'd be nothing to say. And then as I entered her, she would moan and then sigh, I'd bring her great pleasure, on my wings she would fly. She'd call out my name, again and again, To be totally honest, I'd ruin her for men. She would not want another, after she's had me just once, Their pleas would be useless, she'd not change her stance. And so I must ask you, do you dare take a chance, Will let me inside, so your wife I could lance?" The couple just stared at this short bearded fellow, Then the wife nudged her husband and asked him to follow. Back into their bedroom they both did retreat, The wife looked at her husband, their eyes they did meet. "Do we dare let him in, do you think he is truthful, Is he really that big, is he more than a handful?" The husband looked thoughtful, then a gleam caught his eye, "We've got nothing to lose, let's give it a try." So they invited him in, to their bedroom they lead him, The wife's only regret, they had no fresh linen. The bed was a mess from their passion unfettered, They'd been rough with the whips, the sheets had been shredded. The wife got undressed and climbed onto the ruin, The husband stood by, he felt something brewing. The fellow in red trussed the woman securely, Then slowly undressed, almost demurely. He took off his shirt, his great belly jiggled, Then took hold of his pants, and from them he wiggled. "Behold my great majesty," he said to his conquest, Her response was confusing, she looked unimpressed. "What's wrong with you woman?" asked the fat little fellow, "Don't realise my size would cause you to bellow?" "It's not a bad shape," said the woman nonplussed, "But my husband's is bigger, for yours I'm not fussed." The fat man looked round, saw the husband was giggling, Then he fled into the night, lets face it, he's scarpering. The pair chortled quietly, then laughed with great gusto, They'd not laughed so hard since that time up in Barstow. The man looked at his wife, then got an idea, The bonds that she wore had caused him to leer. "I'll take you myself," said the man as he neared, "I'll hump you much harder than some shrimp with a beard." So they fucked and they sucked, groping and humping, Their bed couldn't stand it, and collapsed from the pumping. And then they were finished, at last satisfied, And never once knew that on them we spied. So let's leave our dear couple, let them pass from your sight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. The End Stories now available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_slot/www in Text, HTML, PDF, and Palm Pilot Format. It's always funny till someone gets hurt... and then it's absolutely friggin hysterical --- Running with scissors. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+