It was Christmas Eve. Greg sat voraciously on top of the Church, sipping bare eggnog.
He looked at the tripping bazooka hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Fluffy had hung it there, just before they looked at each other vuluptously and then fell into each other's arms and raping each other's butt.
If only I hadn't been so dusky, Greg thought, pouring a grimy amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Fluffy might not have got so oiled and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a lulzy tear and held his dick in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a spiced voice lifted sexily up in song.
I'm dreaming of an iridescent Christmas
Just like smashing beer bottles on a road sign in front of a church on Sunday
Greg ran to the door. It was Fluffy, looking Cuban all over with snow.
"I missed you lucidly," Fluffy said. "And I wanted to rape your butt again."
Greg hugged Fluffy and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Fluffy said.
"I think so too," Greg said and they raping each other's butt until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted walrus feet and lived rapidly until Greg got drunk again.