A nice biddable wench, often bidden,
A slut, who can’t quite keep it hidden,
Can’t even decide
If she likes best to ride,
Or to be underneath, and be ridden!
Tag: limerick
A plea from the heart
She sighed, “Darling, I hope you don’t mind…
But I’m pretty much certain you’ll find
That the front hole is better,
More slippery, wetter,
More overall purpose-designed!
Enough
“God! Enough is enough!” she cried, heatedly.
“Fuck you!” he answered, conceitedly,
“Just this once more,”
(As he’d told her before!)
Fucking tireless bastard, repeatedly!
Over the hump
It just fitted, delightfully tightly!
Her hymen impeded him slightly.
She didn’t mind much,
(Just some squealing and such);
“Well, that’s out of the way!” she said brightly.
The rough and tumble
When she drank, she’d get loud, start to stumble,
Her prissy veneer would crumble;
She’d tell filthy jokes
And start flirting with blokes,
Grab their cocks, and say “Fancy a tumble?”
Endgame
Flushed and panting, bedraggled, sweat-beaded,
“I’m coming! Don’t stop! Fuck!” she pleaded.
Well, no risk of that!
He kept going, flat chat,
Rather harder, in fact, than was needed.
The last straw
All her holes pretty much rubbed red-raw,
A late-comer joined in… the last straw!
She groaned “Right, guys, that’s it!
There’s no place he can fit!”
“Oh, come on!” they said. “Don’t be a bore!”
Eternity
The poor girl, she was tortured infernally,
Doomed, she expected, eternally,
Once she gave in,
Though she’d known it was sin,
But goddamn! It felt so good, internally!
The book and its cover
He was pimply and skinny and weasely,
Just one quick fuck, she thought,queasily.
Much to her shock,
He had quite a huge cock,
Which he slipped in delightfully easily!
Summer of love
She was fifteen. Her name was… what? Julie?
Age, names didn’t bug us unduly.
Free love, lots of weed…
Well, what more did we need?
She had nice tits. She smelled of patchouli.