How one loved to go out on safari;
Tents, jungle, the nights vast and starry,
Astride one’s best horse…
Take a woman, of course;
Strange dark flesh, when one takes off her sari!
Month: February 2015
The colonialist
He’d seen Bombay, the East and West Indies,
Screwed black girls, and yellow, and Hindis,
All nice, in their way,
Best to root, though, he’d say,
Sultan’s wives, wearing naught but their bindis!
Kiss the cook
How delightful, he thought, to awaken,
Her modesty, long since forsaken,
His naked young wife
(Oh God! This is the life!)
At the stove, cooking fried eggs and bacon!
Mechanisation
As for men, with their lies and their flattery,
Comings and goings so splattery,
Thumping their chests,
Sordid, kinky requests;
Her new sex partner comes with a battery!
Spare the rod, spoil the child
Same old story, sad, commonplace, sordid;
Drunk, rooted, her clothing disordered,
In such sorry state,
When she staggered home, late,
Her dad thrashed her! Thus virtue’s rewarded.
The disgruntled wife
“Dear chap,” she said, “Are you asserting
There’s some sort of harm in my flirting?
Good God! If, by luck,
I perhaps get a fuck,
It’s, at least, thank God, mildly diverting!”
The marital contract
“Sex is one of a wife’s household chores,
Not too taxing, for all a man’s flaws,”
She said. “Hell! I confess,
I like ironing less!
In a way, one might say, we’re all whores!”
Making a spectacle of oneself
“Well it does, rather, yes, give one pause,
To be publicly rooted, outdoors,
And to come, then, as well!
Strangely, though, truth to tell,
One did rather enjoy the applause!
Roll play
Though his motives remained rather murky,
She went along, giggling and perky.
“Yes! Whip me please Master!
Ouch! God! Fuck me faster!”
She screamed, coming, eyes rolled up, jerky.
Love, approximately
Said a saucy victorian doxy,
“I’m sorry milord, but I’m poxy.
Though, tell you what, mister,
Why not root my sister?
I’ll watch, You can fuck me by proxy!”