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'Twas the Night Before Christmas in a Cheap Hotel
with apologies to C. Moore
’Twas the night before Christmas and I couldn’t sleep—
My per diem demanded this hotel be cheap!
The whore in the next room sure put on a show
With her moaning and humping, entertaining her “beau.”
I turned on the tube just to drown out the sound
and “A Wonderful Life” was all that I found.
So I watched Jimmy Stewart to a soundtrack of lust
While that hooker kept grunting and yelling, nonplussed!
The sounds that she made were unlike anything
That I ever imagined that coitus could bring—
I beard banging and singing and moaning galore
I was duly impressed by that tart’s répertoire!
Soon the movie was over, but not so her noise
From deep down in her lungs, her faux sexual joys!
She had mastered the art of performance in bed
And then silence! I assumed she was giving him head…
Sure enough, soon the noise returned, louder and lewd
But, this time, she wasn’t the one getting screwed!
I heard whipping, and thrashing, and masculine weeps
She was more than a whore, and now playing for keeps!
Her voice was now calmer, aggressive, and strong—
She wasn’t a hooker, I’d got it all wrong!
She, a Pro-Dominatrix, then tortured her “john”
I listened, transfixed, it was quite a turn-on!
Ignoring his pleas, she went straight to her work
By bruising his manhood with jerk after jerk.
Then, shoving her strap-on deep inside his ass
She made him her bitch as his prostate got thrashed!
I sprang to my feet, pressed my ear to the wall
He was crying! I think she was busting his balls!
I gasped as she savagely tortured his sex
And I shouted the question, “Do you accept checks?”
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