The strange thing about dating a twin
Is that even nude, just in his skin,
She can’t swear under oath
Which one (possibly both)
Has been been fucking her, even once in!
Author: pete
As one does
She was well bred, and plummy of vowel.
“Should one let him roger one’s bowel?”
She mused. “Between us,
Is it worth all the fuss?
Let him bugger one. Throw in the towel!”
Plum in her mouth
Just at home, but her accent still plummy,
At breakfast she said “You know, Mummy,
I know we discussed
Sex and all that. It’s just …
Well, you never said semen’s so yummy!”
Straightforward
She said “Honestly! What’s to discuss?
We’re both naked. Stop making a fuss!
It seems perfectly clear;
Look, just give it here.
Come closer, now push a bit … Thus!”
The direct approach
She was curvy and pretty, big-breasted.
“Nice tits! Want a root?” he suggested.
“You’re pretty well hung,”
She said. “Show me your tongue…
Yeah… Go down on me first,” she requested.
Manners make the man
She was neither stuck up, nor a prude,
But the fellow was vulgar and crude!
Had he been more polite,
Then perhaps she just might …
No! she thought. I’m just not in the mood!
The id and the ego
She’d been used like a slut, hurt, disgraced.
She recalled it with lust, yet distaste,
But she’d do it again,
Which, as Freud would explain,
Masturbation, of course, just displaced.
Once upon a time, in Vienna
As she said to that man, Dr Freud,
She found sex, which at first she’d enjoyed,
Indeed, quite to excess,
Now, she had to confess,
Left her feeling just vaguely annoyed.
The existential nature of sex
Now the time came he always most hated;
He’d fucked her, his penis deflated.
He’d get hard again,
Fuck some more, but till then,
What to do with her now, while he waited?
A long night
A long night. She’d got pretty much pickled,
Kissed someone whose beard had tickled.
Woke up in bad shape,
With her pussy agape,
From which somebody’s semen still trickled.