There was once an old islamic mullah,
Whose love-life could not have been duller.
He craved after-life,
With no nagging old wife,
Full of virgins of each race and colour!
Month: January 2011
Inky
She was pierced and studded and inky,
Her dress was revealing and slinky.
She purred, as he gaped,
“First, I want to be raped,
Then perhaps something rather more kinky.
Up in the hills
All those redneck folks up in the hills,
Drinking moonshine and watching their stills,
Screw their siblings and cousins,
Have kids by the dozens
Shoot critters and fight, for cheap thrills.
Uplifting
They made love, standing up, in the lift:
It was daring, erotic and swift,
And apart from the thrill,
There was no hotel bill:
It was done less from lust than from thrift!
The good wife
During sex my good wife lies inert,
While my sexual will I exert.
From in front or behind,
She seems never to mind,
Just as long as I pull down her skirt.
The papist
He’s respectable, shy and a papist,
In secret though, sickly escapist,
And when not at church
He submits to the birch;
He’s a pedophile too, and a rapist.
Buttered toast
Butter dripped from the young lady’s toast,
On her attributes full and foremost:
Tragic waste it was that
Her dull husband just sat,
In his newspaper deeply engrossed.
Mr Brown’s wife
Mister Brown’s wife’s more forward than most:
Brown’s short-sighted and deaf as a post.
While she flirts with their guests
And exposes her breasts,
Brown smiles fondly and plays the good host.
Bimbo
There’s a vacuous, statuesque bimbo,
Whose party trick’s doing the limbo,
Which trick she does nude,
Getting off being viewed,
Tits a-flutter and long legs akimbo!