’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Kevin sat waiting alone in his chair,
In hopes that Moira soon would be there.
Sweet Kevin lay waiting, his body confined,
His cock locked in chastity, teasing his mind.
In steel cage restrained, yet his hunger ran free,
To taste his red vixen, her wild ecstasy.
Moira, voluptuous, her red hair a flame,
Had danced through the night in a stranger’s bold game.
Her body now brimming with another man’s seed,
A flood of desire from her evening’s hot deed.
The door softly opened, her heels tapped the floor,
She glided inside and secured the tight door.
Her eyes gleamed with secrets, her lips wet with sin,
Her thighs slick with proof of the lust deep within.
“Oh, Kevin,” she purred, as her dress fell away,
“I’m filled to the brim from my scandalous play.”
Her pussy, still dripping, a glistening prize,
Held rivers of cum where her pleasure still lies.
His cage held him captive, his heart raced with need,
To worship her essence, to savor her deed.
She straddled his face, her warm petals so near,
Her scent rich with traces of another man’s cheer.
His tongue met her treasure, so messy, so full,
Each lap drinking deeply from passion’s sweet pull.
She moaned as he savored the gift she had brought,
His locked cock now throbbing for joys she had sought.
Her curves swayed above him, a goddess divine,
Her red hair a curtain where stars seemed to shine.
Their rapture, unyielding, a dance fierce and raw,
As Kevin consumed what another man saw.
No shame in their bond, just desire’s sweet call,
His cage and her fullness entwined in it all.
The stockings still hung by the chimney with care,
But their fire burned brighter in that sultry air.
