Though in fact quite a sexual squib,
And a virgin, she’d told him a fib;
“I’m a trollop!” she’d said.
Naked now, in his bed,
What to do? She’d just have to ad-lib!
Month: March 2014
Short comings
His shortcomings she tried to accept,
Most, at least, even snoring, except
He (what wretched damn luck!)
Didn’t much like to fuck,
And, when made to, was bloody inept!
Quality of life
Just to have a bad heart was enough; it
Was worse being told he might snuff it
Through having a fag,
Or a drink, or a shag.
He thought “Well, if that’s life, you can stuff it!”
Intermissionary
She’d have much preferred more lick, less bite,
Which she made love to him, still, despite,
With his cock like a fist,
Which she stroked now, and kissed,
Just to give her poor cunt some respite!
The erotic
The erotic may vary from verbal
To drugs, aphrodisiacs (herbal,
Rhinoceros horn),
Certain, more refined porn,
And to creatures (the snake and the gerbil.)
Bestiary
Ranting priests, moral tracts did not trammel
His pleasures! No red-blooded mammal
Was safe from his lust,
Though to choose, if he must,
His first love was a Bactrian camel!
Heart of gold
Just to show that all hookers aren’t greedy,
Although he was strung-out and seedy,
Plain down on his luck,
Shit, she threw him a fuck;
He was so damn pathetic and needy!
Backstage Blues
She sang blues in a voice sad and soulful;
Her faint smile was crooked and doleful.
Drunk, still feeling low,
Backstage, after the show,
The piano-man gave her a holeful.
Tantric sex
He admired her chakra, her aura;
They undressed, communed with the flora,
Made love in a field;
Her rash has now healed,
Her yoni, though’s, still getting sorer.