If you get a chance, have an affaire
With a French girl, a maid or au-pair;
They like sex, comme tu sais,
Two or three times a day,
Anytime, anyhow, anywhere!
Author: admin
Who'd have thought?
“She’s a slut,” people said with distaste;
She’d been named, shamed and shunned and disgraced,
By damn hypocrites, who
Thought of rooting her too…
Harsh, judgemental, and rather misplaced.
Her mind elsewhere
As she moaned and her orgasm neared,
She’d later regret it, she feared…
Though being seduced,
Was quite fun, she deduced,
Sex itself was decidedly weird.
The eyes of love
She rolled over and wiped herself, wearily,
Watched the man watching her, blearily.
What was his name?
Once they grunted and came,
Men resembled each other quite eerily.
Slip of the tongue
When she told him “I love you”, it merely
Rolled off her tongue and was sheerly
Dumb verbal luck;
Still, the preceding fuck
Had been nice, though she’d put it so queerly!
Love the one you're with
Though she swore that she loved the boy dearly,
Maybe, too, meant it sincerely,
Feeling that way
With whomever she lay,
Well, who knows whom she loved, or more nearly?
Workplace relations
Jones, the gardener, grew madly jealous
Of Wilbur, the groom, who’d screwed Alice,
The scullery maid,
For which slight she now paid,
As he rooted her, tied to the trellis!
The bottom line
The third blonde from the left would be suitable,
Maybe… in fact, indisputable:
Nice face, great figure,
(Tits could have been bigger).
On balance, though, totally rootable!
Fringe benefit
He likes pubic hair, just a nice fringe,
Neatly trimmed, with perhaps a red tinge,
But the “Hitler’s moustache”
He thinks rather too harsh,
And a fully-shaved cunt makes me cringe!
Flash-back
In the fifties, men’s stay-at-home wives
Cooked and cleaned, and devoted their lives
To the bread-winner, who
Mostly used them to screw,
Much as women’s fate, now, still contrives.