His intentions remained quite opaque.
The poor girl, with her virtue at stake!
She did love him, she thought…
Did he just want his sport,
To just fuck her, then leave her, the snake?
Tag: limerick
The actress
A downright unforgivable slur,
The suggestion that slut might be her,
Who’d consorted with lords,
Once, when treading the boards!
Married now, rich! And what if it were?
Rigor mortis
The young whore peered into the coffin.
“Poor Shamus! He visited often.
A terrible shock!
Such a lovely big cock,
Which, I see, death’s done little to soften!”
Bon vivant
Panting, dripping with sweat, her breasts heave.
God! Such stamina! Hard to believe!
She’s exhausted strong men;
Pausing, now and again,
For more bubbly. Such damn joie de vivre!
Doing the dirty
She could act quite the slut, when it suited,
Get drunk, flash her tits and get rooted.
Most nights, in fact, though,
If asked out, she said no,
And stayed home and, like, just self-polluted.
The scruff of the neck
“Enough pissin’ around, woman, feck it!
He shouted. “Don’t lick it and peck it!
My wife does that shit.
Enough fingers and spit…
Open wide, take a big breath and neck it!”
Teleology
What on earth possessed God to construct
Such an orifice, cleverly tucked
Up between a girl’s thighs,
(Think of Adam’s surprise!)
If not, plainly, of course, to be fucked!
Smelling a rat
She sobbed “Father, I’d much have preferred
Had you just simply taken my word
That I don’t touch hard liquors…
And sniffing my knickers!
Disgusting! And bloody absurd!
Liquor is quicker
Having lured her up to his room,
She, alas, met the usual doom;
A few glasses of port,
And then jolly fine sport
With the virginal parts of guess whom!
No-go zone
She said “Sorry, big fella, don’t touch!
I won’t give you a rain-check, as such…
Let’s just call it a yes-pass
To come back and trespass
Sometime…anytime, pretty much!”