Tags
Christmas, Cinnamon Treats, CJ Heath, erotic, Guest Author, Poetry
I’d resolved to spend my Christmas
with the homeless and the poor.
The girl I’d chose to help
didn’t say she was a whore.
I took her from the street
with the thought to get her warm.
She borrowed my pc
and searched the net for porn.
As the film clip loaded
she said she’d been a star,
then across 24 inches
she appeared in just a bra.
It was what I saw her doing,
in her swimming cosy,
that should have been a hint,
she may just be a prozzy.
I was a little shocked
where I saw the marrow go,
maybe I was naïve
but still, I didn’t know!
Then she turned to face me
and she told me her name.
She was called Cinnamon
and life will never be the same.
I paid her a twenty
though she’d only asked for ten.
She grinned and said that after
I would get to go again.
I thought I was her hero
with charity in mind.
Doing the right thing,
only being kind.
That was when she pounced
and shoved me to the bed,
ripping of my trousers
and roughly giving head.
Shock turned to pleasure,
I responded (as you would).
Bless the girl, she swallowed,
climbed off me and stood.
Still I didn’t realise
my pleasure was her pay,
but maybe I shouldn’t have asked
If she was willing to stay.
She wriggled on the bed
and sat down on my face,
my licking of her flesh
may not have helped my case.
Okay, I’ll admit it
this was all new to me.
I was nineteen and a virgin
and so tempted to flee.
After a short time,
(we let five hours pass),
The exhausted girl changed tack
and started probing at my arse.
She opened up her bag,
withdrew rubber and leather,
a scary looking strapon
fastened with a tether.
So I’m bent over the bed,
my butt-cheeks held apart,
I’m told to relax,
and she asked if she could start.
I couldn’t really answer
with her ballgag ‘tween my lips,
though I knew she wouldn’t listen
as she firmly grabbed my hips.
My ankles were tied
as tightly as my wrists,
Cinamon reached around me,
grasped me with her fists.
Both her hands abused me
as her stomach slapped my back,
the rubber based dildo
bouncing on my sack.
Bruised and battered inside,
my arse-cheeks red and sore,
tears ran down my cheeks
but still she fed me more.
I just adjusted my position!
I wasn’t pushing back!
I didn’t have a need
for 10” in my crack!
Well okay, it wasn’t nasty,
it was better than I thought,
but this wasn’t what I wanted,
this wasn’t what I sought.
So many lies
passed through my head
with my arse in the air
and my forehead on the bed.
It’s true I knew of Cinnamon
when I went to help the poor.
It wasn’t simple chance
that I came home with a whore.
And I didn’t pay her twenty,
I handed her a grand;
freshly printed
and fastened with a band.
I knew what I was doing,
knew who it was I’d meet.
She was my present,
my Christmas treat.
What happened next
wasn’t part of my plan.
My apartment door opened,
in walked my friend Stan.
He stared at us and gawked
but she didn’t lose her stride,
ploughing on regardless,
she roughly thrust inside.
Stan tapped her shoulder
and whispered in her ear.
The pair then swapped places
and HE slipped into my rear!
My gag was removed
and rubber took its place
I coughed and choked
as Cinnamon roughly fucked my face.
So there I was,
impaled at either end;
a whore gripping my hair
and getting buggered by my friend.
So that was my Christmas;
one day from my life,
or that was the plan
but now Cinnamon’s my wife.
I had no say in it,
I’m her sissy, I’m her bitch.
And Stan is on standby
for when he has an itch.
I had to leave my job
so I could better serve my queen.
She dressed me as her maid,
Oh! The sights that I have seen!
When her punters leave
her attention turns to me.
What once I had paid for
now I get for free!
© CJ Heath 2015.
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