Sister Catherine, wimpled and sandaled,
Though frequently fingered and candled,
(Such shameful delight),
Still lay sleepless at night,
Racked by thoughts about being manhandled!
Tag: limerick
Plucky
Though a bit worse for wear, she felt proud;
He was scarily hugely endowed.
Neither he nor she thought
That she could, or she ought,
But she did, which delighted the crowd!
On a mission
Though a priest of the Roman religion,
Of morals he had not a smidgen!
A swine before pearls,
He corrupted young girls
In Swahili and Hindu and Pidgin.
Fond hope
A young woman, of whom he was fond,
When he told her so, didn’t respond,
In like kind, as he’d hoped…
Furthermore… when he groped,
Sad to say, she was not even blonde!
If
Were he ten years younger and bolder!
Nice tits. Her dress hung off one shoulder.
He let out a sigh.
She looked straight in his eye.
Were she only, too, just a bit older!
Wax torture
Hot wax dripped, the cloth ripped and she yelped!
Though tight-lipped, it escaped, and it helped.
“There, love. What do you think?”
She looked down. Bald and pink!
Now she knew how it felt to be scalped!
Everything but the lolly
She’d accepted a ride, which was folly;
He took out his prick. She said “Golly!”
The deed was soon done.
He said “Wasn’t that fun?”
Flushed and giggling, she said “Gosh, yes! Jolly!”
Facing up to it
She was friendly, good-looking, but dumb;
Pretty face and great tits, a nice bum.
Once he’d got her undressed,
Though she did do her best…
When he came… she was all overcome!
The eternal question
Her fond hope had, as things had been headed,
Been, soon, to have been safely wedded;
The church, the gold ring!
Would he do the right thing,
Or abandon her, now she’d been bedded?
Hard times
In hard times, when a bloke’s a bit broke,
It’s good, cheap entertainment, a poke;
Shout a woman a beer,
A word in her ear,
Lie back later on, share a smoke!