She said no, but then paused to reflect…
His proposal, though crude, showed respect…
Well … he hadn’t said ‘fuck’…
One might see it as luck…
As an offer one ought not reject!
Tag: limerick
Vive la revolution
La Duchesse was renowned for her haughtiness,
Patronage, wealth and her naughtiness;
Artists and such
Must endure her touch,
Her bad breath, sweaty bosom and wartiness.
Begging the question
She was pretty one couldn’t refute,
But the question, of course, remained moot;
Would she spurn a man’s love?
And when push came to shove,
If asked nicely enough, would she root?
Rustic idyll
He was just a crude bumpkin, a yokel,
Uncultured, not terribly vocal,
But God, could he hump!
And a cock like a stump!
And what’s more, she thought, handily local.
The gamut
First she satisfied him by hand, orally,
(Somehow, that seemed better, morally);
Strangely, quite zanily,
Then also anally,
Finally also vaginally, sorrily.*
* Imperfect rhythm in the last line, I know, but irresistible.
In retrospect
It was moot, which affected her worse;
Oral sex, which she thought quite perverse,
Or his cock in her cunt,
Being fucked from in front,
Or rolled over and fucked in reverse!
Delicious uncertainty
How much more such delight could she bear?
Not to know, and in fact not to care,
Though a little perplexed,
Where he rooted her next;
In her mouth or her cunt or elsewhere!
In heat
Pussy not only moist, but damn soggy,
Deliciously, squishiously boggy,
She said “As you see,
I’m turned on as can be.
Fuck me frontwards and backwards and doggy!
Free market economy
For two bucks you could fondle her titty…
They hadn’t enough though, a pity…
They came to a deal…
They’d all cop a feel,
For five, plus the change in the kitty.
The laying on of hands
Is it sinful? she wondered, undressing,
This touching myself, or a blessing?
If sinning I am,
Then I don’t give a damn,
And won’t trouble the priest by confessing!