She was peeling and chopping parsnips at a stupendous rate, already sitting by a pile way too big for all of them to eat, and still doing more, and more, and more. Still, at least it took her mind off the ferocious rectal pounding she’d taken the night before, which had left her severely ruptured and two hundred florins worse off, the gigolo having insisted on a higher fee than usual because the age difference was greater than eighty years.
He came hard into the Christmas pudding! The sight of those boobs wreathed in tinsel was just too much – well, that and the sensation of his sturdy wand plunging in and out of the warm figs, apricots and orange rind.
He sprinted into the room and dove straight at the pile of presents, elbow dropping the biggest one and crashing into all the others, the tree falling onto him, the fairy lights tearing from the walls and then the TV and sound system toppling from the unit too, the last strains of Johnny Mathis descending into a warped gurgle before cutting out completely.
He desperately tried to mime “Away in a Manger” but it was literally impossible, and as he realised that they were getting no closer, he took two steps back, then sprinted at the tree and did a flying karate kick at the angel on top, knocking it off and crunching into the sturdy wall behind, groaning and collapsing to the floor amid the fallen baubles and candy canes as his cousin guessed the right answer purely by chance.
“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly p-” BRAAAAAK! A fart rang out, not only sounding like the cry of some crazed dinosaur but completely cutting off the song, the singers turning to Dietmar in anger, but then letting it go as the family at the door fell about laughing and, indeed, gave a bigger tip than they had originally intended, although all the coins later turned out to be counterfeit, and the charges for trying to use them were dropped only in the new year.
He booted the elf off the shelf and roared in fury, his hatred of Christmas total, his lust for more Quality Street unquenchable, his need for a poo undeniable, his d- FLARP. OK, one of his problems had been resolved, at least (he excreted into the briefs that he’d got in his stocking).
He had stumbled upon her dragline, and, little aware of the power of pheromones, found himself coyly entreated to follow it until he espied her in the distance, busily emitting a silken web from her abdominal spinneret. He began to strum the thread, and she declined even to turn and face him, instead violently shaking the web to ward him off. But he had one purpose, borne of an instinct stronger than survival, and he plunged across the quivering web toward her. He could feel that he was handling the awkwardness of his progress masterfully, and that she was becoming receptive owing to his obvious skill. He primed his pedipalps with sperm, ready to place it on a little bit of web so that she would only be waiting a second or two. He tenderly levered open the scape on her priapic outgrowth to ease open her genital aperture and grant himself access to her copulatory ducts. His issue flowed eagerly unto her seminal receptacles, there to remain while she fattened her body on flies and aphids over the following months. His task completed most satisfactorily for them both, it made more sense for him to be used as meat, and she towered over him for a moment before chomping down hard and consuming his whole cephalothorax in one bite.
He had set up the gallows with a big loop that would tighten if yanked. Then he ran from the platform just above, leaped off headfirst and nailed it, the loop closing neatly around his neck and tearing his head clean off.
There was a scummy smell coming from somewhere, and that somewhere wasn’t his arse on this occasion. Well, unless it actually was. He bent as far forward and down as possible and sni-BLEURGH! OK, it was his arse.
It was unbelievably spoogey, this place. Well, these pants, anyway. His pants. The ones he was wearing. They were spoogey because he had cummed into them, and recently. Essentially, he had cummed in his pants and then been slightly surprised at how cummy that left them. Five minutes later the fabric had fused to his pubes.