She could get off OK on her own,
But she would have preferred, had she known,
There were out there, to share,
Lots of cocks going spare,
She could have, if she wanted, on loan.
Tag: limerick
Sex drought
Sex was scarce, but for fuck’s sake, why none?
She thought… No slap and tickle, sly fun.
She almost, but not quite,
Fucked her brother one night…
Just for practice, like. Just a dry run.
Daisy and Rose
Daisy: “Look at that bloke over there…
Got a cock like a donkey, I swear!
Could ya fuck it, ya think?”
Rose: “I’d need a stiff drink…
But maybe… If ya make that a dare!”
At a loose end
Young and horny, in need of a root…
And no bloke… Carrot? Some kind of fruit?
Bottle? Bat? Teapot? What?
Her dog, Brutus? Mmmm… not.
Fingers? Fist? Or the toe of a boot!
Wham! Bam!
“My g-god! My p-pussy!” she stammered,
Bruised, battered, but no less enamoured,
Her arse black and blue,
And her poor damn tits too,
And her pretty cunt heartily hammered!
In for a penny
“I’ve been raped!” she thought, somewhat astounded…
Which wasn’t as bad as it sounded…
So handsome, so strong…
God almighty! How long
Since her pussy was properly pounded!
Near things
Though she’s had a few narrow escapes…
Pussy-grabbling, bum-pats, near-rapes…
Just by sheer, dumb luck,
Still no actual fuck…
Though that might just have been sour grapes.
The back story
His toe tickling her cunt as he paints,
Her face blissful, she comes… and she faints!
“What a stroke of good luck!”
He thinks, grabbing a fuck…
“She’ll do nicely for one of the saints.”
Oddity
At the moment the bloke shot his wad,
She herself felt decidedly odd…
The blood rushed to her head,
As she thrashed on the bed,
Screaming “Sweet fucking Jesus! Oh God!”
Reality sets in
When she married him, only nineteen,
It was blissful, you know what I mean?
Parties, laughs, sex all night…
Now it’s cook, clean, fuck, fight…
And the bills… and the baby to wean.