She’d had too many whiskies, she feared.
She’d lost her clothes too, it appeared.
And what was this goo,
Trickling out of her too,
On her tits and her face, caked and smeared?
The life of the party
“Well,” she said, when her vision had cleared,
“I think this bukkake thing’s weird.
I don’t see the fun…
Are you guys all quite done?
Look at me, sticky, spattered and smeared!”
Spectator sport
One would think a root quite hard to botch;
Wham, bam into a slippery crotch!
Though it’s not rocket science
Or battling with giants
It might depend who’s there to watch.
The frog-prince
Rapt, bewitched, she became uninhibited;
Intimate parts she exhibited,
Keen to convince
Her enchanted frog-prince
To transform, but, alas, “No,” he ribbited.
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
Six nice new naughty girls in a row!
Santa chuckled. So handy to know!
Six names ticked off his list,
Then a flick of the wrist;
Hot, red bottoms all round! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Naughty, but nice
Santa gave her young titties a squeeze.
“You’ve been naughty,” he said, with a wheeze,
“So I’m going to spank you.”
“Gosh! Yes!” she said, “Thank you!
And fuck me then too, Santa, please!”
The evening of the day
Though a bit geriatric, Mick Jagger
Still puts on the hip-thrust and swagger,
Attempting to show
That, just as long ago,
He’s a randy, inveterate shagger.
Cause and effect
There are possible causative links
Between how much a young woman drinks
And if, how, where and when
She’ll have sex with strange men.
And, when groped, if she just smiles and winks.
Grey cats in the dark
She’d got pregnant, but who was to blame?
Tom? Dick? Harry? Some other first name?
Perhaps no name at all!
She just couldn’t recall.
In the dark they’d all seemed much the same.
Greek virgins
Be it myth, or else be it historical,
Greek girls consulted the oracle,
Vestal or not,
Virgins all, to ask what
The gods thought about sex (just rhetorical).