Made of steel and wood, nuts and bolts,
Lots of grunt, the full two-forty volts,
Her mechanical cock
Out-fucked any dumb jock,
And without a man’s frustrating faults.
Month: April 2014
No hard feelings
Though not hot, he was quite a nice bloke,
So she kissed him and gave it a stroke.
He got hard…what the hell!
So she shagged him as well,
Though both knew it was just for a joke.
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She was pissed off! As Mum would say, vexed.
So they’d kissed, had a grope. Well, what’s next?
Oral sex, she supposed.
“Wanna fuck?” he proposed.
So she stripped, struck a pose, sent a sext.
Deep inside, she knew
She’d had sex with someone, she suspected,
Or vaguely, next day, recollected…
If so, was it nice?
Did she come? Once? Or twice?
She recalled, though, she hadn’t objected!
The romantic type
They went out in the bus, not a cab.
Later on, at his flat, (rather drab),
He put on the hard word,
(Always did, so she’d heard).
Fair enough, since he’d picked up the tab.
Making a virtue of necessity
He was rough, and a bit of a lech.
He just stripped her and fucked her, poor wretch!
Foreplay? None of the sort!
“Lucky, ain’t it,” she thought.
“Pussies self-lubricate, and they stretch!”
Outrageous fortune
As a girl, her fond dream, which took wings,
Not to be, in the grand scheme of things…
No sweet children, no house,
Garden, dog, doting spouse…
Just a series of sad, sordid flings.
Listen to your elders
As she aged, Gran, once harsh, seemed to soften:
“My girl,” she once said, “have sex often!
Go out, get a man;
Root as much as you can,
‘Cause you won’t get fucked much in the coffin!”
Getting it off her chest
When he buried his face in her chest,
Tweaked her nipple or fondled a breast,
She’d just sigh, roll her eyes,
Say “What gives with you guys?
They’re just tits! God, you make me depressed!”
Have some madeira, m’dear!
As she sipped her third glass of madeira,
He moved, inch by inch, ever nearer.
He kissed her soft lips;
His hands circled her hips,
His cock hard, his intentions now clearer!