Input from A New Contributor

Over the last few months, Molly and Mick have received some supportive and clever comments from Donna, a fellow kinkstress from the south with a serious disability that has not prevented her from dipping her toes and other body parts into the world of BDSM with the rest of us.

She recently shared a lengthy post she has provided to Dr. Dick's website, which I think our readers will enjoy. Here is the link:the indominitable human spirit.

 A few years back, Molly and Mick had the chance to spend some time skiing and talking with members of the US Disabled Olympics Ski Team, who could kick our ass on mogul runs in their custom made sleds, using  hand held tiny skis to guide their turns down Vail Mountain. Their skill was stunning. But their spirit was even more amazing.


Out on the slopes today, the Collins clan saw a disabled skier learning how to use one of those small sleds,  with the help of a ski instructor. One of the surly teens noticed the guy, clearly paralyzed below the waist, and commented: "why would he want to bother...."

I tried not to be preachy, mentioning simply that the skier probably wanted the same experience of being out on the mountain, facing down gravity and nature that we enjoyed so much. it just took him a whole lot more effort and guts to do it than it took us.

Of course that reminded me of the spirit of adventure that Donna's wonderful essay demonstrates. And I wanted to share it with all of you.

Of course, Donna's comments show that she has the type of sense of humour that we appreciate here at UCTMW enterprises. She was quick to chime in on the adventures of the WC's brother with his runaway finger. Here is a portion of her recent email to me:

I have been reading and enjoying your blog for several months and commenting every now and then. [Speaking of comments, do you really believe WC's brother and that whole three times up the bum thing? Any chance this is a brother who is a bit jealous of WC and is talking out of his hat? I mean really, does he carry a dozen finger cots or spare plastic gloves in his pockets, or perhaps one of those pocket sized containers of anti-bacterial cleanser?]

I agree Donna. The WC may have to have an intervention with his brother on the issue of proper sanitation. 

And here is another contribution from Donna, a kinky holiday poem which you may enjoy:

I came across a little bit of seasonal poetry that I thought might appeal to you two as well as WC. It probably won't appeal to his brother since there is no mention of thumbs with attitude. However, I wonder whether the brother's name might really be Jack...as in stuck in his thumb? And yes, it is almost time for my next dose of medication, why do you ask?

 

In any case, this is an erotic romance writer's version of The Night Before Christmas.

 

Have a nice day,

Donna

 

An Erotic Romance Night Before Christmas
By Devon Rhodes

'Twas the night before Christmas, when in every hut
All the authors were reading and writing their smut;

The stockings were net above killer high heels,
In hopes that St. Nichol-ass would soon cop a feel;

The kids were at Grandma’s, all snug in their beds,
While drool-worthy eye-candy danced in my head;

And I in my teddy, and watching the clock,
Had just settled down to await the Big Cock,

When on the front door there arose such a thumpin’,
I reclined on bed to wait for my pumpin’.

From outside the window, Tom opened his sash,
Tore open his raincoat and gave me a flash.

The moon on the breast of my hero's huge pecs
Gave a woody the size of his home state of Tex,

When, what should my wandering eyes watch come in,
But a hot dommy Master, and eight smokin’ hot men,

With a huge throbbing cock, so taut and so slick,
I knew in a moment I must have his dick.

He cock-ringed his buddies before they all came,
And he spanked them, and stroked them, and called them by name;

"Now, Asher! now, Derek! now, Paulie and Darin!
On, Cristoph! On, Corey! On, Donnie and Larren!

On top of the bed! Let’s show her a ball!
Now lick away! lick away! lick away all!"

He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his feet,
And his skin was all oiled, inducing great heat;

A bundle of toys he had flung on my bed,
And I knew he’d torment me before I gave head.

His abs -- how they rippled! his chest smooth, not hairy!
His ass cheeks like apples, and no way was it cherry!

His sexy wide mouth was drawn up in a smirk,
And he looked like a man who knew just how to work;

He was hot and enticing, and wanted to tame,
So he tied me right up and started his game;

An hour or so later I was limp and wrung dry,
The guys were all empty, endorphins were high;

He spoke not a word, but packed up his toys,
And wiped up the cream then zipped up his boys,

And tucked a long finger under my chin,
And giving a kiss, said, “You were a ten.”

He strode to his ride, to his guys gave a leer,
And told me for sure they’d be back here next year.

And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Sexy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."