The princess, known to be somewhat wacky,
Was caught being screwed by some lackey!
Though hushed up, of course,
And despite her remorse,
It did seem, nonetheless, rather tacky.
Double dare
She and Tom, wearin’ nary a stitch,
When her sister walked in, little bitch!
She said “Oohh! What yer doin!
I’m gonna tell Mum, you were screwin’!”
“Fuck you…” Tom said… “too, if you snitch!”
Confidentiality
She looked like she might root. Well, potentially.
“Yeah”, said his mate. “Confidentially,
See that big bloke?
He says he’s had a poke,
And she’s good, but a slut though, essentially.”
Forensic evidence
She woke naked, still sticky and smelly,
Cum-cakes on her tits and her belly,
Cum clots in her hair,
Three guys? Four? Did she care?
It had got kind of hard to keep tally!
Anthropology 201
Anthropologists often describe
Potent liquors young women imbibe,
Then go into a frenzy,
[Op. cit. F.McKenzie],
“An fuckim all man bilong tribe.”
Evocative
In the bathroom, the light bright and steamy,
Her skin damply lucent and creamy;
Eyes glued to the crack,
He could just see her back,
But imagined the rest, hotly dreamy.
So shall ye reap
Some damn virulent pox, quite obscure;
The doctor seemed rather unsure.
Discreet, gloved and masked,
“Many lovers?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “one might wish they’d been fewer.”
Cutting edge
A strange fetish, perverse and obscure;
Such pain, the poor girl, to endure!
Those piercings, too!
“Well, it’s something to do,”
She said, “Just till I find something newer.”
Disappointment
“You’re as old as you feel”. What drivel!
Time was that a man’s head would swivel
When women would pass,
Nice firm tits, a good arse,
One’s cock hard. All it does now is shrivel.
The silent majority
Most young women, in magazine polls,
Play submissive, non-dominant roles,
Leaving up to their men
All the how, where and when,
And with what, and with whom, and which holes.