A young Scotch lass eyed off her new neighbour;
Big, brawny from manual labour.
Her hands round his hilt,
From the tilt of his kilt,
Would, by God, be like tossing the caber!
The mouths of babes
To be called a slut got on her nerves!
Just because of her cheek and nice curves.
Being sexy’s a blessing,
She thought. Keep him guessing…
One blow job. That’s all he deserves!
Half tempted
Being pretty and blonde and well-rounded,
She found she was constantly hounded;
Men wanting to screw,
More disgusting things too…
Which might not be as bad as they sounded!
The dregs of life
Being old sucks! One does bear a grudge.
Rub one’s cock, and the thing doesn’t budge!
One can’t come like before;
The damn prettiest whore
Can’t get out of one more than some sludge!
Love and lust
Love and lust; the line’s quite indistinct,
Blurred and stretched, often jagged and kinked.
Is love more in the mind,
Lust more brutish? You’ll find
They’re, of course, inextricably linked.
Whiffy
Just sixteen, her libido emergent;
Desires distressing and urgent,
Cunt constantly wet,
Pungent, muskier sweat.
Memo: Buy stronger laundry detergent.
Defile share
Quite the life of the party! A tonic!
And wizard at things electronic!
What hearty guffaws,
When he dildoed two whores,
Screaming, jerking, in stereophonic!
Withdrawal symptoms
He pulled out. She got up and got dressed.
That would do for a few days, she guessed,
Then he’d want it again.
God! What is it with men?
If she cared, a girl might get depressed.
But why?
“She said “Golly, I’m still pretty dry.
I don’t know. If you want, you can try,
But it mightn’t go in.
Just the tip, to begin;
If it hurts too much, though, I might cry.”
Perspective
A few minutes, that’s all it had taken.
Virginity gone, vows forsaken.
She asked “Was it good?”
As she thought that one should.
He said “Fuck yeah! Next best thing to bacon!”