The Blennerhasset Ladies Club

The Blennerhasset Ladies Club had called me yesterday,
To ask if I’d be Santa at their Christmastide soiree.
I thought of all the ladies who were members of the group,
The gorgeous and the sexy ones whose boobs had yet to droop.

I pondered possibilities, and savored every thought,
If I become the man in red and do the things I ought
Then pleasures will be mine I’m sure, once I fill up my bag
With gifts the ladies will enjoy, assorted sexual swag.

I told them that of course I’m in. this chance won’t slip by me
I’ll thickly pad my Santa suit so none of them can see
Reactions that are natural, with chicks that look like this
But calm is not the feel I’ll have, it’s my antithesis.

The party starts with merriment, I check my bag once more,
A grin lights up this Santa’s face, for what he has in store,
Surprise will fill a face or two, once presents are passed out
They’re not expecting what I have, of that I have no doubt.

A dildo for Ms. Linda Lou, with it she can’t go wrong,
And when you turn the tiny switch, it vibrates all night long.
Hitachis for the three of them, Serena, Pam, and June,
I hope they use them in good health, and that they come real soon.

A Sybian for all the rest, to share as they see fit,
One sits upon the shaking seat, and vibrates ass and clit.
The others watch and wait their turn, anticipation rife,
Susanne and Cleopatra and the mayor’s wicked wife.

A pass to Party Hardcore for that showoff Maggie Jane,
A studded paddle for Diane, who likes a little pain.
A new machine for Tabitha, built strong and very stout.
From quite extended overuse, she wore the last one out.

A tube of lube for Alice Brown, whose twat is oft quite dry.
A Paintoy membership for Jan, who’s hard to satisfy.
Some condoms that they say will glow, we’ll check back later, Sue
To see if they distract at all, from what you’re there to do.

I search for Nora’s smiling face, an empty chair I see,
While guessing what her gift might be, she’s made the choice to flee.
Next Juniper, the crusty Brit, sends looks I can’t abide,
And terrified, I’m lost for words, I choose to run and hide.

Now Cheryl is the next in line, the lady of smooth words.
What might I have to satisfy, what’s cool and not absurd?
Maybe I’ll just Runaway, a fleeing Christmas gnome,
And write a brilliant story, maybe call it Finding Home.

A look into my Santa bag to see what I forgot,
A couple things are lurking there, I’ve got to see just what.
A leather strap, some nipple clamps, some handcuffs left unlocked,
Devices that they’ve never seen will leave them awed and shocked.

I think that I’ll just slip away as vengeance fills their minds,
The dildos, condoms, Sybians, and other sexy finds,
Have overwhelmed their prurient side, libidos in high gear,
The words they speak are quite obscene, not meant for Santa’s ears.