It’s en-n-n-n-normous! she stuttered,
And never were truer words uttered!
With patience and spit,
It went in, bit by bit,
Then in, out, till it spurted and sputtered!
Author: pete
Come warm yourself by the fire
Music plays, the warm firelight flickers;
He’s plied her with sweet potent liquors.
She feebly protests,
As he squeezes her breasts,
While his other hand gropes in her knickers.
In the shit
Though ’twas only the tip, as if stung
By a cane or a whip, highly-strung,
She screamed “That’s a bit rum!
Get it out of my bum!
Struth! ‘Twas only a slip of the tongue!
Cluster-fuck
It was quite fun, she mused retrospectively;
Each had his merits respectively.
Just to be cute,
“God! I’d love a good root!”
She’d exclaimed, but not meant it collectively.
Faint heart , fair maiden
At the sight of her cunt his heart sank;
It was threatening, alien, dank,
Sort of turned inside-out
It might bite him, no doubt!
“No”, he muttered, “I think I’ll just wank.”
Star-crossed lovers
As the dagger plunged into her breast,
That by Romeo sweetly caressed,
Who lay dead by the side
Of his five-days-old bride,
“What a fuck-up!” she thought, unimpressed.
Carmina Burana
An obscure old order monastic,
Decidedly iconoclastic,
Were fuckers and drunks,
(Not your average monks),
And their rites, by and large, orgiastic.
Opportunity knocks
She said no, but then paused to reflect…
His proposal, though crude, showed respect…
Well … he hadn’t said ‘fuck’…
One might see it as luck…
As an offer one ought not reject!
Vive la revolution
La Duchesse was renowned for her haughtiness,
Patronage, wealth and her naughtiness;
Artists and such
Must endure her touch,
Her bad breath, sweaty bosom and wartiness.
Begging the question
She was pretty one couldn’t refute,
But the question, of course, remained moot;
Would she spurn a man’s love?
And when push came to shove,
If asked nicely enough, would she root?