Tiny Tim hadn’t cum for a very long time, nary a spurt or a tittle, though he rubbed his soft cock, his sore hand wetted with spittle. His pale, sagging skin, he churned and he twisted, then milked the head over and over, tight-fisted.
As the glum town once was vibrant, but now withered away, his cock slumped upon his thigh — a mickle sad display.
There were five days ‘til Christmas, and not a red ribbon in sight; no lights were there strung, all twinkling and bright. The shoppe doors were bare; no wreaths there were hung. Carolers stayed home; and no songs were they sung.
Merry hot chocolate stands were noticeably missing, and no mistletoe was strung up to bring girls ‘round for kissing. Not one toured the desolate streets in horse-drawn sleigh — so no one expected what happened the very next day.
They awoke to bright color on a long-vacant shoppe. It had shingles of green, and a chimney up top. Windows were painted with berry-red trim. Happy jingles of bells rang out from within.
As curiosities soared, the townsfolk crept up and tried peeking inside. Then, snowflakes started to fall, setting scene for a cozy Yuletide.
The day finally arrived for the Grand Opening. “Mom and Dad Toys” — who’d ever heard such a thing?
Nickolas the Toymaker, his smile dimpled his cheeks. He threw back the sash giving some a few peeks. His eyes, how they twinkled, as he glanced back at his toys. No, this shoppe wasn’t meant for li’l girls and li’l boys.
He flung open the door, and the townsfolk rushed in. They’d never seen such a sight, and knew not where to begin. Cock rings had been hung from the mantel with care. Dildos of all shapes and sizes were there. There were paddles aplenty, some made from soft pine, whilst others were walnut, meant to well tan a behind.