She might just be eighteen (n0t a day over),
Well past the age of consent though. Yeah, way over!
Stuck in LA,
For a whole fucking day!
Might as well, then, get laid on his layover.
Tag: limerick
Home truth
Love and romance? Just drôle, silly fiction!
Contrary to such dull depiction,
Men fancy big tits,
And a pussy that fits
Slick as silk, and with just enough friction!
Unchivalrous
When he raped her, she tried to be brave,
But, of course, ne’er forgot, nor forgave,
(Although whom could she tell)…
And then buggered, as well!
Damn Sir Francis, the dastardly knave!
The wrong end of the stick
Skirt hiked up, sprawled face down on a keg,
The poor wench, thought “Too late to renege!”
She’d been happy to root
Long John Silver, the brute,
Only not with his fuckin’ peg leg!
Back to nature
Her makeover had been rather drastic.
She thought she looked fucking fantastic!
But sadly for her
It seems most guys prefer
To chomp saggy tits, not bloody plastic!
Give me excess of it
Bleary, hung-over, struggling to focus,
But hard as rocks, soon as she woke us,
Insatiable whore,
To be begging for more
Of the same as last night’s hocus-pocus!
DIY
Though a real cock sometimes entices,
A carrot or eggplant suffices,
A bottle works fine,
(After drinking the wine),
If she’s left to her own strange devices.
Cosmopolitan
Travel broadened much more than her mind;
She’d been rooted in front and behind…
Arabs, Greeks, the odd Jew,
And a Zulu or two,
Pretty much every colour and kind!
Vexing
Naked, angry, things look pretty bleak.
Just her luck! Her date’s some kind of freak.
Nipples clamped, bound and gagged,
Prodded, poked, roughly shagged,
And the best she can do is just squeak!
Hicksville
“In small towns,” she said, “ain’t much to do…
Ride in cars, smoke, get drunk till you spew.
Do some drugs, fuck and fight,
Same thing, night after night…
Mostly just findin’ new ways to screw.”