While she chanted the twenty-third psalm,
Her bare arse felt the sting of the palm
Of the priest. With each slap
Something stirred in his lap,
To her ever-increasing alarm!
Ridiculous notion
She perused his hard, glistening shaft,
Sized it up, rolled her eyes, and she laughed!
“Put that thing in my what?
I should think bloody not!
Damn! A woman would have to be daft!
The fish in the sea
Cupcake-breasted, petite, elfin-faced?
Or more earthy, tits down to her waist?
Does she need to be wooed?
Is she sluttish and crude?
In the end, it all comes down to taste!
Opportunity and motive
The alleged rape, milord, is plain fiction,
The handcuffs, the gag, the restriction
Of movement and speech,
Just a game, played by each;
All good fun! Not the stuff for conviction!
A bushel and a peck
So, she gave him a kiss, just a peck.
It was nice, so she thought “What the heck?”
Then he got out his prick,
And she gave it a lick;
It was soon in her, up to her neck!
No idle boast
Well, he’d said he was bigger than most,
But she looked like she’d just seen a ghost!
First one inch…two…three…four…
When he said “A bit more?”
She just nodded, like, totally grossed!
The missionary position
Though he’s threatened to sue us for libel;
Despite what it says in the Bible,
A young dusky maid
Turned his head, I’m afraid;
He forgot about God and went tribal!
Married life
Her bum’s big, her tits starting to sag.
If he told her she’d just say “Don’t nag!”
He smiles, sneaking a look;
She’s a pretty good cook,
And she still gives a bloody good shag!
Poetic justice
He was ugly and stupid and gross!
The term “dumb jock” would be pretty close.
Though the fuck was OK,
At the end of the day
She was glad that she gave him a dose!
Not a good time
She had PMT, moody and grumpy,
Feet swollen, her tits sore and lumpy.
He wanted a fuck!
He was shit out of luck!
Or the way to one winding and bumpy!