Message-ID: <52687asstr$1135498202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Russell Hoisington" <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Santa {Hoisington} (humor, holiday wishes)
Lines: 221
Date: Sun, 25 Dec 2005 03:10:02 -0500
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(With deepest apologies to the author of the original.)
   ************************************************************
This is an erotic fantasy.  The characters and the situation are
purely imaginary, and this story is *NOT* intended to be a guide
for actual behavior.  Any similarities between this poem and
actual people or actual events you should be ashamed of are
purely coincidental.  If it is illegal in your part of the world
to access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage, or if
you don't like sex stories, then you should stop now.
This story is copyright 2005 by Russell Hoisington.  Please do
not remove the author information or make any changes to this
story.  You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in
the free area of commercial sites.  That does NOT mean that these
stories are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I give
permission for you to use them in spam advertising.  I reserve
the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by MY
definition, not yours or anyone else's.
Thank you for your consideration.
   ************************************************************
Those who frequent the alt.sex.stories.d newsgroup or who are
familiar with the writers to have story sites at ASSTR may recognize
some of the names herein.  They are not to blame for what follows.
   ************************************************************
Once upon a midnight, dearie, while I sat with eyes so bleary,
Viewing many a strange and curious website of forbidden lore,
While I nodded, lightly napping, from the fireplace came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at the damper door.
" 'Tis some rodent pest," I muttered, "tapping at my damper door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And my tired and flaccid member'd spent its last upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From the website joy, not sorrow, sorrow from the webcam whore.
For the raw and naked maiden whom the spammers name Lenore,
True name lost forevermore.
How her silken, soaking finger, rustling briskly on her zinger,
Thrilled me, filled me with fantastic longings never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some squirrel or rat entreating entrance at my damper door,
Some late rodent pest entreating entrance at my damper door.
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my sense did weaken; hesitated, then went seekin',
Through my dark subconconscous it went seekin' for the whore.
But again while I was napping, came again the gentle rapping,
Like a crowbar faintly tapping, tapping at my damper door,
That I scarce was sure I heard...  Here opened wide the damper door!
Flames winked out; then nothing more.
Deep into the darkness seeking, long I sat there, almost leaking
Yellow stains into my undies as I'd sometimes done before;
Briefly silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
'Til the only words there spoken were the whispered sound, "Go lower."
Stricken was I, and in echo murmured I the words, "'Go lower?'
These are rodents, nothing more!"
From the fireplace came a huffing, as of someone gruffly puffing,
Soon thereaft I heard a grunting, somewhat louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something bigger than a rat is.
Armed I'm not save my Thesaurus, for this myst'ry to explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, for it cannot be my whore.
" 'Tis a rodent, nothing more."
Down into the ashes fell he, landing on his rotund belly,
Bouncing out and landing seated, looking saintly on my floor.
'Twas a bit fore he was ready; to his feet he rose, unsteady,
And in fury oh so petty, stomped across my once-clean floor.
"Snap!" went fingers, sending more soot from his suit to soil my floor.
Then he spat and stomped once more.
Thereupon, with pipestem reeking, Santa sent his fingers seeking,
Down his lower spinal column, giving comfort where 'twas sore.
Left- and rightward he was bending while sore muscles he was tending.
And he soon seemed to be sending warm relief straight to their core.
Friction then his pack released, and it came crashing to the floor.
Quoth the Santa, "Shit!"
Stunned I was! This roly-poly man was said to be so holy,
Yet, just like a hockey goalie, thru his lips he cussed and swore.
Then his pack he levitated as if grav'ty no more weighted
And I, rapt, anticipated what within for me it bore.
Santa reached inside and pulled out... Oh my God!  It was my whore!
Quoth the Santa, "Not here, damn it!  You're the next door pervert's."
Back went she. I started crying.  Deep within began my dying
As I rose to commence vying for the one I did adore.
Santa muttered, "There's no cookie.  There's no milk, nor Girl Scout Nookie.
Goddamn bastard's such a rookie!  Hoistigon is just a bore."
"Hoisington" I said.  He jumped and made a puddle on my floor.
Quoth the Santa, "What the fuck are you doing awake?"
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so crudely spoken,
I replied in manner jokin', "Chokin' chicken, and it's sore,"
Then explained how I'd been searchin' for the lovely bit of merchan-
Dise he had there in his sack now lying back upon the floor.
I'd aroused, then spent, and drowsed until he rapped my damper door.
Quoth the Santa, "What kind of asshole closes the damper on Christmas Eve?"
Growling, fuming, looking pissed off, Santa drew and checked his list of
Gifts that he was to dispense of. Eyebrows clenched and then he swore.
"Useless drunken sot, Tremanynen!  That elf he misspelled your name! When
Plowed he was it looked the same, 'n' now I must take back that chore."
Out he pulled a North Pole cell phone, punched a number and did roar!
Quoth the Santa, "Your ass is fired!  Get out!"
Looking as if primed for whipping, Santa said, "Let's see if shipping
Got it right 'fore they went slipping out for vodka shots to pour."
Reaching for his haversack he dumped the contents of that pack. "We
Get it right or I will sack the whole department to the core."
I zoned out and fixed my eyes upon the breasts of my Lenore.
Quoth the Santa, "Forget it!  The bimbo's your neighbor's."
Santa searched thru gifts wrapped shiny while I gazed upon her hiney.
Santa's "Eeny, meeny, miney" faded as my lust grew more.
"Why," I asked "should Pervert Neighbor be the owner of this favor?
My heart aches for me to savor all the charms of my Lenore."
Santa turned to give me notice, and his look a warning bore.
Quoth the Santa, "She's got the clap."
With those words I was admonished. With Lenore my neighbor punished.
What I thought would be so funnish would his dick make oozing sore.
When his wife did see it dripping, she would know he'd been unzipping
And his weiner secret slipping in another's chamber bore.
That alone made worth the losing of my once sweet, sullied whore.
Quoth the Santa, "I'm out of coal?  What the hell is extra?
"Islador's new high-speed cam'ra. Case of Turtle Wax for Gam'ra,
And a special just for Yottie, Esu's armored cellar door.
Chocolate for Gary Jordan.  What???  An axe for Lizzie Borden?
I am surely gonna cordon off the goddamned shipping floor.
Every elf I had assigned there will be sent to 0mn1vore."
Quoth the Santa, "Fucken Disney gets all the good help."
"These cut rubies are Miss CJ's.  That should thank her for the BJs
And the set of unwashed PJs that have thrilled me to my core.
Fresh beef ribs for your dog, Baggins', sure to set his tail to waggin'
Otherwise it would be saggin' o'er a master who's a bore."
That my Muse and dog ranked higher bruised my psyche all the more.
Quoth the Santa:  "The truth's a bitch, ain't it?"
Scowling he threw down his list of names and I knew he was pissed off.
"You," he said, "don't rate this best of Paradise's finest store."
Nestled in the hands of Santa was a crystalline decanter.
Solemnly and without banter Santa handed my gift o'er.
I saw then 'twas Bombay gin.  Cascades of tears my eyes did pour.
Quoth the Santa, "You gonna be a stingy bastard or share it?"
Speed approached the supersonic as I made his gin and tonic.
Then while smiling quite sardonic one for myself did I pour.
Santa sipped and then decided. 'Twas so prime he grew excited!
Pride I felt, as if beknighted there upon my parlor floor.
I had tempered Santa's choler with a drink and nothing more.
Quoth the Santa, "Don't fuck up next year.  I'll have extra coal."
Santa seemed as if my brother.  I enquired, "You want another?
I have cookies if you druther have a treat with substance more."
Shaking head he took his pack in which the gifts he all put back, in-
Cluding she who'd caused my whackin'.  Back inside was my dream whore.
Pervert Neighbor! He could savor she whom I'd crave nevermore.
Quoth the Santa, "Time to haul ass."
To the fireplace without tarry.  I wished him a Christmas Merry.
Quickly giving me a thumbs up, Santa checked the damper door.
Santa softly said, "Go higher." Up went he and then the fire
Leapt into the funeral pyre of my dreams for lost Lenore.
Came the sound of sudden crashing, slashing thru my damper door!
Quoth the Santa, "The next one who shits by the chimney is venison!"
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Copyright Russell Hoisington 2005
 
 ************************************************************
 
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Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion
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