Santa Claus on the Cross, Three

They say I am the onanist supreme,
A jerkoff nob, the very biggest dick,
A full-fledged member of my member’s team,
An asshole summa-cum-laude with prick.
I like to scratch myself, my privy parts,
Assert myself among their beefy presence,
And practice all the endless frottage arts
Of fine display of what’s my manly essence.
But wanker PDAs do not complete
And lead to some quite messed-up booty calls
For any sort of accessible meat
To mitigate the bluest of blue balls.

She queefs, “You’re flawed, an ass, a clusterfuck,”
And as a gift I turn the greater schmuck.