One frigid night Tom tossed and turned;
Though cold outside, inside he burned.
Finally he left his bed,
A familiar fancy in his head.

While snow and ice kept others in
He'd venture outside once again
In search of alleyways to creep
And bedroom windows where he'd peep.

Despite the snow he would keep warm
By spying on a female form:
Unsuspectingly undressing,
Her nudity he'd be assessing.

But on this night he looked about
And all were sleeping or were out.
Tom, discouraged, thought to leave
'Til he recalled 'twas New Year's Eve.

Thought he, there must be some young maid
Whose hair she's stayed at home to braid,
And unobserved I'll watch undress
And savor in her nakedness.

At last by wand'ring far-flung ways
A welcome sight did meet his gaze:
He'd chanced upon the dormitory
Of a private girls' conservatory.

Tom crept softly to the glass
And looked upon a gathered class
Of charming female undergrads,
Each robed or silk pajama-clad.

The leader of the class was Pearl,
First viola and Head Girl,
Whose words were plain but beauty bold,
With skin of rose and hair of gold.

"Sisters," she said, each word so clear
And strong that Tom could easily hear,
"We gather now to pledge anew
A class of freshmen coming through.

"Five girls this year will join for good
Our music-loving sisterhood,
But ere we have a celebration
They must go through initiation."

One by one she called the new
Girls up to put themselves on view
Before the students upper-classed
Who'd undergone this in years past.

"Here is slim and fair Jeanette,
Who diddles on the clarinet;
Whose fingers on her horn alight
By day and on herself at night.

"Gloria, whose ample chest
Doesn't help her sing the best,
But many prizes she will win
If the judging panels are all men.

"Nadia is our visiting Russian,
A virtuoso of percussion.
Electrifying with drum and cymbal,
Her beauty strikes men's hearts to tremble.

"Tina's marched in bands with brass,
Toning up her legs and ass.
More famous than her swaying hips
Are her practiced tongue and skillful lips.

"And last is my own sister fair,
Alison with golden hair
So like my own and just as long,
A beauty with a gift for song.

"High-strung, high-breasted but untested,
All five shall be unstrung, divested,
While I, as leader, trade viola
For bottled oil of canola."

The oil she drizzled on their skin,
With other seniors joining in,
'Til slick and shiny, see-through, clinging,
Their clothes good cheer to Tom were bringing.

They had, to supplement the oil,
Buckets of wet garden soil.
Then the freshman girls were splashed
With mud and oil 'til they were trashed.

Peeping Tom was well inflamed
By spying on this messy game;
It seemed to him that Pearl, as well,
Enjoyed it more than she could tell.

The seniors then helped Tom's euphoria
By disrobing buxom Gloria
And the others and with tubes
Of frosting smeared upon their boobs.

Splattered thus with messy stuff
And stripped, the girls had had enough;
But Pearl said, "No, don't think we're done,
In fact, the ritual's just begun."

Then she called to one named Mary,
Flighty heiress to a dairy,
"Milkmaid Mary, bring the prize
Which will this ritual finalize:
Of course, dear Mary, I mean the pies."

Mary blanched to pallid white
As if she wished to fade from sight;
"I regret to say," she said, a mumble,
"In procuring pies there's been a stumble.

"My father doesn't think it wise
To give so many costly pies
To one small club; he doesn't know
The pies are not to eat, but throw."

Livid, Pearl said, "Seize her, now!
We'll teach a lesson to this cow--
I promise that you'll taste my lash
For failing to secure our stash!"

The other girls, they did as told,
both freshmen young and seniors old.
Poor Mary then was grabbed and bound
Into a chair the others found.

Tom, quick thinking, saw his chance
To join in this strange romance.
"Tom no more I'll be, but Simon,
And change my call to that of pieman!"

Tom left as fast as I could write,
And soon returned with jacket white
And a pastry cart of giant size,
Full to the top with gooey pies.

He knocked and entered, sure that he
Would now be welcomed instantly:
A cart of pies would be his ticket
To plant his yard in any thicket.

Mary's clothing now was shredded
By the sisterhood Pearl headed.
Pearl herself now held a pail
To show what falls on those who fail.

"Miss Mary, dear," said Pearl, "'Twas rash
To promise that you'd taste my lash,
And cruelty I would never dream,
So for you I've got a lash of cream."

"Hold that pail!" cried Tom (now Simon)
To the girls (shocked that a pieman
Would enter in their sacred bower,
Especially at this midnight hour).

"Simple Simon is my name,
I have supplies you need to claim
If your ritual would be complete,
Equally fine to throw or eat."

He hoped his wares would thus entice
And lead to sensual paradise;
Mayhap it would, but Pearl resisted,
Her grip on events iron-fisted.

Pearl stepped closer, canny bitch,
And whispered, "Sir, I like your pitch,
But if a nursery rhyme you'd be,
You must read more carefully:

"You may be 'Simple,' mister Simon,
But Simon only MET the pieman.
Your name's a lie," she said more strongly,
"So I think you state your motives wrongly."

She addressed the girls, "Why was he creeping
About our meeting? He was peeping!
Tom I name him, that's his fashion,
Sneaking looks his form of passion!

"And if what he sees will so arouse
Him that he intrudes here to carouse--"
('Twas hot for Tom now, but too late,
As messed-up maidens blocked the gate.)

"--If he so desires to make girls scream
By throwing pies and whipping cream,
To pinch our pearls and drench our curls,
To paint our clothes in spattered swirls,
Then I say, Let him have it, girls!

At Pearl's command the sisters splattered
Tom with pies 'til he was battered.
He'd joined the party but not expected
How Pearl had seen his plan and wrecked it.

One and all the girls surrounded
Him and with the pies they pounded:
Even Mary and the freshmen hounded
Tom, relief upon their faces
That with him they'd traded places.

The squeals of girls or smell of cake
The matron of the house did wake.
The noise brought her to the scene;
Demanded she, "What can this mean?!"

Big of bone and hips and bust,
And equally enlarged in lust
The matron was for men, of which
She met with rarely in her niche.

"I've no idea from where you've picked him
But you've gone too far with this new victim.
Are you so mad for courting dangers
That it's come to hazing strangers?

Said Pearl, "It's not like that, for he
Was spying on us all, you see.
As soon as he climbed o'er the fence
Our actions turned to self-defense.

The matron said, "If that's the case,
I'll use my thighs to wipe his face!
This wayward boy I'll make my toy
And in my room I'll him enjoy."

Said she, "I'll play upon your flute
And work your manhood to the root."
So, in her bosom, just that way,
Tom found a place his head to lay.

As for Pearl, her just desert
Was served up by those she had hurt:
Said Alison, "How could you, Sis?
Is this for your perverted bliss?

"What started out as naughty fun
Is overgrown and overdone.
Let's start to overhaul this place
With well-aimed pies thrown in Pearl's face."

So it was done, and that new year
Began without Pearl's reign of fear.
Messy fun could still be sought
But given freely, never bought.

So concludes my messy story
Of New Year's in a dormitory;
Thank you for indulging me
This bit of harmless fantasy.

Forgive this humble poetaster
Who undoubtedly could climax faster
If he didn't court metric disaster
And had his girls remove their clothes
In simple unadorn prose.

As the year draws finally to a close,
I hope your fortune next year grows.
To voyeur, splosher, bondage freak,
May this year bring you what you seek.

And if you only live in dreams
This omnibus of kinky themes,
Then may you still find happy ends
Among the company of friends.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!