Ebby Kneesore was the owner of the town's only screw shop, The Screwage. Ebby Kneesore's Screwage made and sold all sorts of screws, long ones, short ones, fat and thin all with different shape heads. Regardless of the size of your hole, Ebby could give you a good screw that fitted just right.
Ebby had one employee, the loyal hardworking Bob Crotchpit who had worked for her for many a year as a slot carver. Bob's job was to carve different shape slots into screws so people would have to buy a different screwdriver because not one of the dozen they had at home would fit.
Ebby was not happy, tomorrow was Christmas day, the one day of the year she could not force Bob to work. As the day drew to a close, Bob wished Ebby a "Merry Christmas" to which she grunted, "and a happy holiday to you too," in a sarcastic tone.
Bob slugged home through the snow, his Crocs while not warm did allow the melted snow to drain out, Bob was grateful for the miracles of modern technology. His wife Emily had prepared a hot fire for his arrival, hot fires were the only type she could make but Bob didn't mind.
His 18-year-old son Tim, better known as Tiny Tim around the town because of his tiny penis was warming his todger by the fire in the hope it would make it expand.
"Put it away Tim", called his Mother, "Let your Father dry off by the fire."
Tim obeyed, tucking his tiny todger into his hessian underpants, "Did you get a turkey father?"
"Indeed I did son, a big fat bird with amble breast and thick of thigh."
"Can I stuff it this Christmas? both holes Father."
"Didn't we talk about this last year? Your poor Mother had to scrub the turkey clean with a bottle brush remember?"
Emily smiled, "Who knows, perhaps Santa will bring you something else to stuff this Christmas," giving Bob a sly cheeky wink.
"You mean one of his Milves? Really you think Santa will bring a milf for me?"
Bob grinned, "Who knows, Santa only brings a few of his Milves with him each year, you've got to be on the good list to get a milf visit."
Meanwhile, Ebby was preparing a meal of Siencyn (which I suggest you google the recipe) as it was Christmas she saw fit to be a little frivolous and use tea not just water. Bellyful she headed off to bed and soon fell asleep.
No sooner had Ebby drifted off than she was awoken by loud knocking and moaning, "YES, YES, OH GOD, HARDER, HARDER," Ebbie pulled the covers over her ears, "What's the matter Ebby, don't you recognise your old friend, Jay Gobmarly?"
"What trick of mind be this? A side effect of covid jab no doubt. Begone hallucination, begone with thee."
"I am no hallucination, I was once your friend and I bring warning of what is to come."
"Yes, yes I know, you choked to death on a guy's cum. Everyone knows that, it's on your gravestone."
Jay rattled her chains, "Three more sluts will visit you this evening," and with this she vanished.
Ebby reclosed her eyes convinced what she saw was no more than a figment of her imagination. Jay used to be a sensible girl and would never gobble without good penny first and on many a night she gobbled so many her belly was as full as her purse until morning. But the chains? Nah, Jay was never into bondage, it had to be a hallucination.
A cold chill filled the air and rattled the bed, with groanful voice the first slut spoke, "I am the slut of Christmas Past, come with me to see what is lost."
Ebby rubbed her eyes, there in front of her stood a ghostly dildo with ghastly face and gangly limbs. It reached out a sticky hand and grasped Ebbie by the wrist. In a flash, she was whisked away to a Tavern long gone.
"Do you remember this place? you came here many a time as a teen."
Ebby glanced around the room at old faces long in their graves and friends moved on, "Yes, yes, I came on that table there and on that stool, those toilets over there, I came in those many a time. What of it? The foolishness of youth nothing more. "
"And that gent by the bar, What of him?" asked the slut pointing to a rugged bearded figure of good stout.
"That's knobbly knob Norris, he had a knob like a cob of corn. "Ebby pointed to the pool table, "He made me a woman right there upon the green on my 18th birthday as my mother and father held my hand, 18
good pumps he gave me before I creamed his corn. Good times, good times."
"And what of Christmas past?"
"There was so much semen on the floor they had to put sawdust down. You could roll it into balls and throw it at each other."
"Your legs were more open back then, more welcoming to all comers old and new."
"Even the loosest door closes and locks."
