pete – Page 44 – Pete's Limericks

Making a spectacle of oneself

As a rule, self-possessed and reserved,
She now found herself rather unnerved;
Getting off on her hand,
One could not understand
Why the bastard just sat there and perved!

Wishful thinking

Getting older, still virgin, such lust!
It’s a case of get rooted or bust!
Drooping tits, pushing thirty,
Thoughts constantly dirty,
Her pussy just gathering dust!

Suspense

Gagged, her sentiments therefore unvoiced,
Bound and dangling from some sort of hoist,
Dripping sweat from her tits,
While he toyed with her bits,
Which betrayed her by being so moist!

The road to sainthood

Monstrous men! Have they no self-restraint?
Wicked instruments! Grotesquely quaint…
The Breast-Ripper! The Pear…
(Shoved up heaven-knows-where!)
But needs must, or else not be a saint.

The eavesdropper

When she overheard being discussed
Over port, by the men, her large bust,
What they’d do, if they could,
(Would they? What if they should?)
She felt strangely inflamed, though nonplussed!

Call of the wild

She attracted men’s amorous glances
At morning teas, suppers and dances;
Her damn chaperone
Wouldn’t leave her alone,
When she’d rather have taken her chances!

Babe in Toyland

We’ll, how much would a country maid know
Like a babe in the woods; afraid so!
And so amply endowed
Running with the wrong crowd,
Drinking, smoking, laid high and laid low!

Decadence

Champagne, canapés, all very swanky,
The hostess herself, though, quite skanky!
She sucked off a waiter,
Though, daintily, later,
She spat in a little lace hankie.