Men she fucks, in some way, she makes pay;
While the sun shines, she figures, make hay,
Presents, cash, some extortion,
Just as a precaution,
To bank for the old rainy day.
Month: November 2015
Plucky chick
Steely-eyed, she said “Just watch it, buster!
Your fucking’s been pretty lacklustre.
Heads up, you dumb jock,
As they say, today’s cock
Is tomorrow’s worn-out feather duster!”
Getting off, getting on
To delay the onset of dementia,
Some playful erotic adventure
Works well, so it’s said;
Anal sex, giving head,
Useful tip: Ladies, take out your denture!
Overcome
She would, later on, frequently wonder where
Things went wrong. Touching him, under there!
Something came over her…
There in the clover… her
Tits… face… hands… belly and underwear!
The existentiality of intercourse
She thought sex, just like food, quite essential.
Her lovers were mostly sequential…
Though some were extraneous…
Contemporaneous…
(All of this quite confidential.)
Anthropology 102
Sex is simply arranged by the Maoris,
All done by the payment of dowries;
A fellow might pay
For a virgin, let’s say,
A few pigs and a basket of cowries.
Pre-feminism
With a pussy as snug as a thimble,
Athletic, inventive and nimble,
She loved a good root,
But her great disrepute
Made her less than a feminist symbol!
Hard luck story
Her professions of love were all sham,
Cries of being hard up just a scam.
He suggested a fuck
Might perhaps change her luck
But, quite frankly, he gave not a damn!
Innocent until proven guilty
Not as innocent as she pretends,
What she’ll let you do rather depends…
If she likes what she sees,
She’ll say yes (or yes, please),
And decide then how far yes extends.
Good night, Sir Knight
Knightly heroes, in sonnet and ballad,
Saved maidens, soft, gentle and pallid,
From dragons and such,
Who said “Thanks very much!
Want a root?” (Strike out “virgin”. Not valid.)