Open-armed, open-mouthed, open-legged,
She’d said “Yes! Oh God, Yes!” Almost begged.
Pretty randy, you’d swear,
Bloody open misere,
Then she clammed up, the bitch, and reneged!
Tag: limerick
Ridden unsaddled
On all fours, harnessed, blinkered and straddled,
Her lovely plump arse being paddled;
With each slap she bucked,
More or less, thus, self- fucked,
And the poor girlie’s wits the more addled!
Less is more
He preferred women supple and slender,
Small-breasted, ambiguous gender,
Tight pussies like thimbles,
Pert arses on gimbals,
Their lips moistly pouting and tender.
One foggy night
“May I walk you home, miss?” he said , smiley.
“Why thank you!” she answered him shyly.
“The least I could do;
A fair maid such as you,
On the dark streets at night,” he said, slyly.
Confidentiality
She looked like she might root. Well, potentially.
“Yeah”, said his mate. “Confidentially,
See that big bloke?
He says he’s had a poke,
And she’s good, but a slut though, essentially.”
Forensic evidence
She woke naked, still sticky and smelly,
Cum-cakes on her tits and her belly,
Cum clots in her hair,
Three guys? Four? Did she care?
It had got kind of hard to keep tally!
Anthropology 201
Anthropologists often describe
Potent liquors young women imbibe,
Then go into a frenzy,
[Op. cit. F.McKenzie],
“An fuckim all man bilong tribe.”
Evocative
In the bathroom, the light bright and steamy,
Her skin damply lucent and creamy;
Eyes glued to the crack,
He could just see her back,
But imagined the rest, hotly dreamy.
So shall ye reap
Some damn virulent pox, quite obscure;
The doctor seemed rather unsure.
Discreet, gloved and masked,
“Many lovers?” he asked.
“Well,” she said, “one might wish they’d been fewer.”
Cutting edge
A strange fetish, perverse and obscure;
Such pain, the poor girl, to endure!
Those piercings, too!
“Well, it’s something to do,”
She said, “Just till I find something newer.”