A bit nympho, a trifle bipolar;
Beef, climate change, chickens, Ebola
Her malady’s source;
She was vegan, of course,
All her sex toys organic and solar!
Pimp my bride
Love betrayed! What a snake in the grass!
To be pimped! Such heartache! So low class!
Her illusions dispelled,
She danced nude, while he yelled,
“Swing your tits more, and shake your fat arse!”
A few drinks
Had she known what a few drinks entailed,
It might, then, perhaps have availed
To thwart his vile schemes;
Naked, drunk, it now seems
Almost certain she’ll soon have been nailed!
The idea of sex
Though, her whole life, she’d dreaded and loathed
The idea of sex, once betrothed,
Having kissed him, she found
She liked playing around
And, in fact was the first one unclothed!
Ban the burqa
Between her thighs crouching may lurk a
Mad muslim, a Russian, a Turk, a
Drug fiend, and her breasts
Might be suicide vests…
God! Who knows what she’s got in her burqa?
The ruined damsel
Pussy gaping and dribbling, fresh-poked,
“Alas, ruined, poor damsel!” she joked.
“Yep, that’s it, now, I guess;
I’m a slut, more or less!
Times like this, a girl wishes she smoked!”
The doctrine of the Assumption
The assumption she’d always begun with
Was men were just there to have fun with;
To tease, have a fling,
Fuck, or keep on a string,
Then move on, when it’s over and done with!
Girl Friday
“If you’re going to rape me, then do so!”
The stowaway girl told the crew, so
They did, night and day,
Then they cast her away!
A sad fate, but no Robinson Crusoe!
A soft touch
A slow hand, a smooth tongue, a soft touch;
Going down on her, foreplay and such;
Take your time! Not too fast!
When you fuck her at last,
She might protest a bit but not much!
The sacred and the profane
Though to root him had been just insanity,
She, like most frail humanity,
Gave in to sin,
And then, once it was in,
Moaned “Oh God! Fuck!” to add, too, profanity.