White Christmas

Exhibit A re-opened his Christmas prompts this week, and after spending a morning wailing and writing about hot nuts, this poured out of me earlier this evening. Presented with no comment.

White Christmas

I asked every week, and I was denied.
I put on my sweetest voice, my sluttiest undies.
“Frost me like a cupcake.” I plaintively cried.
My whines were left unanswered.

“Frost me like a cupcake!” I moaned, on my knees
A writhing mass on the pristine bedsheets.
“Your cum, your load, your anything, please.
Make me your art.” I begged, to no avail.

“JUST CUM ON ME PLEASE.” I shouted, aggrieved.
One night in the winter, my patience all gone.
“One cumshot, the money shot, right over these,”
And pulled off my t shirt, my breasts bared, my cheeks flushed.

He studied me fondly, that wintry night.
He set down his drink and went to the door.
And then left the room, disappearing from sight.
And all I could hear was a murmur of voices.

One by one, he lead them inside.
His boss, and his brother, the postman and more.
All smiling, all willing, all bursting with pride.
The circle surrounded me; then unfastened their flies.

“Your wish, my sweet angel, is about to come true.
As you see, it took quite a long while to arrange.
These men are all hungry, and their meal shall be you.
Why, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? My love?”

“You begged to be frosted with all of my might,
but alas I am only one man, with one cock.
And your only real wish was a Christmas that’s white.
And I, with love, have provided that for you.”

So he took pride of place, with his cock in my mouth,
And my eyes filled with tears, of love and delight.
Then of course when the eve of debauchery was done
And my body was drenched with a film of white cum.
(And we’d waved fare-thee-well to the very last one)
We called from our doorstep, all cuddled up tight,
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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