A long night. She’d got pretty much pickled,
Kissed someone whose beard had tickled.
Woke up in bad shape,
With her pussy agape,
From which somebody’s semen still trickled.
Tag: drunk
Coulrophobia
The big top, late at night. Bip the Clown,
Orange hair, big red nose, painted frown,
In a comical rage,
In the big lion cage,
Fucks a drunk, giggling girl from the town.
The prodigal daughter
She’d backslid, been corrupted and strayed;
She’d gone out and got drunk and got laid,
And it felt so damn good,
That whenever she could,
She backslid more and more, I’m afraid!
The royal wedding
As a princess, of course, she was fated,
While young, to be married off, mated
To some beastly lord,
To be fucked, then ignored,
While he farted and snored, drunk and sated.
Bummer
She went out and got drunk and went slumming;
I guess the poor girl had it coming.
The sex had been great,
But now, bad luck or fate,
There was something not right with her plumbing!
Peep-show
Giggling, drunk, a bit drowsy and noddy,
She sprawled in the chair. A nice body.
Her skirt had slipped up,
One breast out of its cup.
Bloody nice, and her arse wasn’t shoddy.
Carmina Burana
An obscure old order monastic,
Decidedly iconoclastic,
Were fuckers and drunks,
(Not your average monks),
And their rites, by and large, orgiastic.
Glutted
His cold hands on this woman’s soft flank,
He regretted the cost, to be frank.
They’d had dinner, got drunk
Now his hard-on had shrunk.
He should just have stayed home, had a wank.
Call me Daddy
The young whore, in fact just an apprentice,
Laughed drunkenly, non compus mentis.
He squeezed her soft bum,
Mumbling “Don’t tell your Mum”,
While he screwed her, in loco parentis.
Spare the rod, spoil the child
Same old story, sad, commonplace, sordid;
Drunk, rooted, her clothing disordered,
In such sorry state,
When she staggered home, late,
Her dad thrashed her! Thus virtue’s rewarded.