“Uh…” I internally debated telling Blitzen to forget about having to say anything. “I am a losing twat, A dumb little reindeer cum guzzler, Sir!”
“Is that lower than a dumb-doe-eyed, fat piece of cow turd with droopy tits?” I snickered as I patted my aunt on the head. I didn’t know if Eddie used the exact phrase “I am a losing twat, A dumb little reindeer cum guzzler, Sir!” every year. “You could stay here and fuck Comet, watch us pass her around, or go in your room, Son. I caressed her chin and stroked her hair. A few guys had their dicks out, feeding them just like pigs in a blanket to Vixen, Cupid, and Prancer while they squatted. “Yes, Master!” Blitzen answered enthusiastically, still sucking on her finger and looking up at me from the floor. Reindeer, make those targets worth hitting.”
You’re a real tough cookie with a long history
Of breaking little hearts like the one in me
That’s okay, let’s see how you’re doin’
Put up your dukes, let’s get down to it
Hit me with your best shot
Eddie played Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with your best shot.” Until I saw five women wiggling dildos shoved up their asses and in their twats trying to coax men to toss mistletoe wreaths on them – I would never have thought the song had
