She’d split many a marriage asunder,
Which was, of course, small cause for wonder;
Well, not to those matrons,
Whose husbands were patrons,
Whose bellies she’d damply been under!
Remarkability
She did things with her body that bordered
On bad taste, extreme and, well, sordid.
But honestly though,
I’m just dying to know
How she managed those tricks men applauded!
Res ipso locuta
Although built like an ox, and as hairy as,
Girls he had, many and various,
Not by some trick,
But one glance at his prick,
And their smiles signalled “access all areas!”
The value of manners
She’d been slowly, politely denuded,
Her panties and bra too included;
Spreadeagled, she lay,
With those parts on display,
Where no man, before him, had intruded.
Gemini
While one sister was licking and nibbling
His balls, and the juice that was dribbling
Each time he withdrew,
He went on, (wouldn’t you),
Comprehensively rooting her sibling!
Niche market
From the gentry, the titled and landed,
By stages, she’d lowered her standard;
She now spread her limbs,
At the lecherous whims
Of low types, to whose vile tastes she pandered.
Before her time
A rare beauty, but quite uninhibited,
Did things obscene and prohibited;
Sad and disgraced
(It’s a matter of taste),
She was bought by a chap, and exhibited.
Almost immaculate
Other women, perhaps hold a grudge,
Call her slut; who are they, though to judge?
Though she’s not yet his wife,
On the page of her life
Is no blot, just a bit of a smudge.
Undertow
Father Davies, the priest at All Hallows,
Red-faced, wheezing loud as a bellows,
Plunged deep into sin,
(He thought all the way in),
Though, as yet, he but dipped in the shallows.
Pitch perfect
At the sight of his cock she went ashen,
But such was the pitch of her passion,
She figured, “Well, shit”
And, although a tight fit,
She still got it in, after a fashion.