Eloise has strange sexual dreams,
Dreams more vivid than life, so it seems,
Dreams so wild and perverse,
About gang-rape and worse,
That she wakes up and comes as she screams.
Month: March 2011
Ecumenical
He liked breasts big and round and low-slung,
With long nipples, that bounced as they swung,
And he paid little heed
To the race or the creed
Of the girl on whose ribcage they hung.
Klutz
Being, sadly, a sexual klutz
Lacking charm, style, good looks and plain guts,
He was not in the hunt
For the more refined cunt,
But he did do alright with the sluts.
Alive!
A bored housewife, who used to contrive
To sneak out for a drink and some jive,
Gave herself to strange men,
And again, and again,
Just to make herself feel alive!
The voice of choice
In her orgasm’s ecstatic throes,
Every woman, within herself, knows,
When his semen is spilled,
That she’ll feel fulfilled,
That to do this was something she chose.
The swirl of the dance
She was lost in the swirl of the dance,
In a rhythmical, romantic trance,
But the man, you could tell,
Wasn’t under the spell,
He just yearned to get into her pants.
Morality
It’s a curious concept, fidelity,
Strange philosophic duality,
Being untrue,
Screwing somebody new,
Is to face and deny one’s mortality.
Life goes on
Women too have their sexual drives,
Even overworked mothers and wives,
Who in bed, late at night,
Become things of delight:
Thus mankind sputters on and survives.
Leda and the swan
Leda lay on the bank, pale and wan,
Pride and virtue and dignity gone:
She exclaimed “What’s the use
Of resistance, if Zeus
Wants to fuck me, dressed up as a swan?”
Going with the flow
Their wild foreplay, at times, comes to blows,
She grows frenzied, her love-mucus flows,
Her sex, swollen and slick
On his rampaging prick:
It’s the way women are, I suppose.