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A VISIT FROM AUNT NICK {Burnt Feathers} (caution)
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A Visit from Aunt Nick (A Filthy, Holiday Parody)
by Burnt Feathers
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`Twas the night before New Years, when all through the town
Not a creature was stirring, not a thing going down.
Drained bottles lay round on the floor in despair,
With cumulus hangovers filling the air.
The children were passed out, all snug in their beds,
While visions of Britney - nude - danced in their heads.
While Dom in his leather, and I in my chain,
Had just settled down to a winter of pain.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I crawled from the cage to see what was the matter!
All the way to the window I rattled my links,
And swore out the window, calling them: "Noisy finks."
The moon on the scum o'er the new-fallen slush
Had the look of old vomit, thrown up by a lush.
When what to my wandering eyes should appear,
But a Mini-Van, it seemed, nobody could steer.
With a little, odd driver, so scuzzy and sick,
I knew in a moment, it must be Aunt Nick!
More arrant than rapid, the course was, she bore,
While she whistled, and shouted, and called me a whore.
"Dumb assess! Ho' Dancer! Go get me that vixen
Don't cum yet! You Stupids! Till we're up there and mixin'!
Climb up that damn fire escape, up to their roost!
And catch me that slut! Here, now! Give me a boost!"
Those horny old husks, in a hurry, flew by,
Kicked in all the doors and unzipped every fly.
Way up to the rooftop to pee down the flue,
They hauled their sex toys and Aunt Nick's old ass, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The huff-puffing noise of a gang-banging poof.
I yanked in my head and was covering my ass,
When Aunt Nick broached the chimney, that old broad's got class!
She was covered in hair, combed up from her pussy,
Her skin was begrimed, all with ash smears, and mussy.
A gaggle of sex toys were strapped to her back,
And a dildo - still buzzing - hung out of her crack.
Her eyes - how they wandered! Her lips they hung laxly.
Her boobs were like slinkys, or doors on a taxi!
Her droll little nostrils were flared wide apart,
Like a scrawny old Batman who'd just smelled a fart.
The stump of a butt-plug she held in her teeth,
While fumes from it circled her head like a wreath!
She had a broad chin, and a wrinkled old belly,
That lapped round her hips, like 'twas pond-scum, or jelly.
She was scrawny and knock-kneed, a spindly old ogre,
I pissed in my pants, as I watched her come over.
One grab at my crotch, one twist of my nipple,
Assured me, right quick, that I'd be her next tipple.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And yanked off my panties with one sweeping jerk,
Then, laying her finger inside of bum,
She wiggled it twice. And, that make me cum!
From the casement she sprang, to her gang gave a whistle,
And away they stampeded, like shot from a pistol.
But I heard her exclaim, as she knocked down a cop,
"Don't get careless, you cheeseballs, this is just the first stop!"
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Happy Holidays & Best Wishes for 2005 from Burnt Feathers.
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Comments are appreciated, contact: Burnt.Feathers@gmail.com
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