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The
other
night
I
was
strolling
through
the
mall
when
I
saw
the
most
virile
looking
man.
They
had
to
call
for
a
'clean
up
on
aisle
four'
he
made
me
so
wet.
He
was
just
sitting
there
in
this
gorgeous
red
suit
with
white
fur
trim.
He
had
a
thick
white
beard
and
a
huge
belly.
Children
were
lining
up
to
sit
on
his
lap.
It
was
too
good
to
be
true.
Not
only
was
this
man
gorgeous,
but
he
shared
my
interest
in
young
boys!
It
was
all
I
could
do
not
to
run
into
the
nearest
Brookstone
and
ram
one
of
those
giant,
'back
massagers'
into
the
steaming,
single-slice
toaster
between
my
legs.
I
got
into
line
behind
the
last
little
boy.
I
don't
think
I
mentioned
my
outfit,
yet.
Since
I
came
directly
from
church,
I
was
wearing
4
strips
of
electrical
tape,
my
nipple
clamps,
and
a
5
inch
long
micro
mini
skirt
that
barely
covered
my
fabulous
pooper.
I
was
also
wearing
5
inch
stilettos,
shin
guards,
a
Jimmy
Choo
catcher's
mitt,
and
a
sombrero.
When
it
was
my
turn,
I
tightened
my
clamps
and
adjusted
my
skirt.
I
straddled
him,
and
his
eyes
filled
with
tears
of
desire,
or
perhaps
agony.
I
was
wearing
my
leather
thong
with
the
metal
spikes
on
it,
and
hadn't
taken
that
into
consideration
as
I
ground
my
pelvis
against
his
mighty
Yule
log.
He
managed
to
gasp,
"What
would
you
like
for
Christmas?"
before
I
slipped
the
ball
gag
into
his
mouth.
"I
want
you
to
slide
your
thick,
candy
cane
of
love
through
the
honeyed
window
of
my
gingerbread
house!"
I
cried
as
I
drove
the
heel
of
my
stiletto
into
his
instep;
piercing
the
top
of
his
shiny
black
boot.
We
were
so
close
I
could
really
get
a
good
whiff
of
him.
He
smelled
like
baby
vomit,
stale
urine,
and
scotch.
With
every
passing
moment
he
reminded
me
more
and
more
of
my
dad.
I
couldn't
have
been
more
aroused.
The
children
began
sobbing
in
delight.
Some
of
their
parents
grabbed
me
roughly
by
the
shoulders.
It
was
going
to
be
a
gangbang
I
realized
with
glee!
I
dropped
to
all
fours
and
arched
my
back
like
a
reindeer:
waiting
for
that
first
North
pole
to
enter
my
Southern
most
hole(s).
So
needless
to
say
I
spent
Christmas
in
jail.
Jail
is
full
of
real
lesbians,
which
don't
even
seem
to
be
the
species
as
the
lesbians
you
see
in
the
movies.
They
beat
me,
and
violated
me
in
every
possible
way.
It
was
like
Abu
Ghraib,
only
everyone
smelled
like
patchouli,
and
these
bitches
really
knew
what
they
were
doing.
After
a
week
of
brutal
treatment,
my
high
priced
lawyer
was
finally
able
to
convince
me
to
go
home.
I
was
sad
to
leave
Ruth,
Marge,
and
Irma,
but
I
know
I'll
see
them
again
-
if
only
to
have
them
fed
to
my
hounds.
Looking
back,
I
guess
you
could
say
my
ride
on
Santa's
lap
really
made
my
Christmas
wish
come
true.
Written
& Submitted by
Gary
From TSHIRTHELL.com
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