His inadequate, half-hard erection
Occasioned him utter dejection…
The girls of his youth,
Fucked, unfucked… all, in truth
He could, should have fucked more, on reflection.
Month: August 2026
Groundhog
She enticed men to use her… just meat…
For the pleasure, the pain… both so sweet…
Raped, abused, beaten… worse…
Just her fate, self-made curse…
Eat, sleep, fuck… days on endless repeat.
Trad-wife
“Wife and mother”, she said… “that’s life’s pinnacle…
“Wow! Lucky me!” she said, cynical…
Loved, in his way
Fucking never for play,
Just her duty, his right, cold and clinical.
Mad, bad and dangerous to know
She’s a slut… it’s her own kind of madness…
Perversions, all manner of badness…
Abused, used in ways
To disgust or amaze…
In her mind, joy and shame mixed with sadness.
Waste not
Little tits, teacup-sized, as if pasted
Somehow on her chest, to be tasted…
A plump, pretty arse,
Pubic curls, as yet sparse…
Lying naked there… not to be wasted!
Something about her
Whether naked in front of him, kneeling,
Or arse up, tits bouncing, and squealing,
Arms pulled back, like reins,
As he fucks out her brains,
Though a slut, just a tart, she’s appealing!
A blind eye
He’s a serial rapist, by rumour,
A paedophile too and a groomer,
But liked, as a rule,
(Not by girls still at school),
For his wealth, his grand parties, his humour.
Trust
Young, confused, foolish, flattered and flustered,
She let him, this man whom she’d trusted,
Do things to her which
Scared her, hurt like a bitch,
Left her mortified, shamed and disgusted.
As flies to mortal men
In the absence of God , or of gods,
She was raped by some young louts, the sods…
The wrong place, the wrong time,
And no reason or rhyme…
Just bad luck, then, but what were the odds?
Frame of mind
She’s developed the whore’s frame of mind…
Embraced lust, and left all shame behind…
The wild joy that she gives,
Any just god forgives…
Never mind if dull prudes blame her kind.