-Story Christmas Poem! - Christmas Sci-Twi - by Colonist!-

’Twas a night before Christmas when your phone gets a buzz. 
You fish the thing out just to see who it was. 
A classmate friend of yours, Sci-Twi Sparkle it is. 
Let’s read that text: entertain the wiz!
“Get over here with haste, by foot or by car!”
“Sounds urgent,” you think as you put on your coat.
You walk to your front door, but on it’s a note.
“Wear this to your impromptu rendezvous,” the paper commands.
It’s a Santa costume, with respective mask, with the best quality in the lands.
Must be from Sci-Twi. A role-play fantasy?
Surely that must be it! Guess you’ll have to show up and see.

With haste you make it, to the break room at the rear of the electronics store.
“Surprise, Mr. Claus!” Sci-Twi greets you, dressed in an ensemble fitting for a Christmas whore.
Behind your mask and cloth you’re masquerading as Mr. Santa Claus.
The sexy nerd tackles you without so much as a pause.
Off comes her clothes, her tongue polishes off your candy cane.
This has got to be a dream! That, or you’re going insane…
You’re all warmed up, and she pushes you onto the table.
And onto your Christmas pole the nerd jumps on and self-impales. Damn, she’s able!
“Merry Christmas, my love,” she whispers in your ear.
You stay silent as she slides up and down, and give her a slap on the rear.
The table squeaks, the Christmas whore moans, you fell yourself coming close.
You explode into the velvety fold, and gift her a generous eggnog dose!

It’s all said and done, and the nerd washes up in the break room sink.
“That was wild, Mr. Claus!” she exclaims. “What did you think?”
From behind your mask, you tilt your head.
“That’s okay,” she says. “I’ve got all night to put that question to bed.”
She smooths out her now redressed outfit, and resumes decorating the room for the party.
“If you’re up for another round later, I won’t say no” she adds. “Just wait and see!”
You take your leave, and your phone buzzes again on your way out.
You check to see who it is. It’s Doppy! That mischievous lout!
“A dozen masked Santa outfits ain’t cheap!” he exudes.
“When do you think she’ll notice that she just texted, like, a dozen dudes?”
Your blood runs cold as you realized the scheme.
What number were you, in a ruse of multiple manly cream!?
The text has an audio file, and it sings “On the third screw of Christmas, my not-so-true love came in me!”
You lift your head to the sky and shout “Damn you and your holiday schemes, you bastard, Doooooppy!”