Women’s menstrual cycles are lunar;
The moon dictates when, and no sooner,
They come into season,
And thus, one would reason,
Are keen to slip under the doona.
Tag: limerick
Equal and opposite reaction
Don’t you know, silly girl, that the more you
Complain and demand I withdraw, you
Just increase my ardour,
And make my cock harder,
Like dozens of women before you!
Burn the bra
Women’s breasts, big, small, whatever sort,
Should hang free; for this Women’s Lib fought!
There’s no prettier sight
Than girls’ tits, free by right,
Without visible means of support!
Pre-commitment
Though there aren’t many things I’d deny you,
When asked if you’d give it a try, you
Said “Yes”, and “What fun!”
Well, the fun’s just begun,
And I’m not ready , yet, to untie you!
The book's cover
Her loud clothes and her make-up disguise
Saggy tits, a big bum and thick thighs,
But she’s such a good sport,
One forgets, (as one ought),
That she’s not a great root, though she tries.
Serendipity
She’d been screwed, she was led to surmise,
By the evidence, dried on her thighs,
As she yawned, when she woke,
In the bed of some bloke,
His identity one more surprise!
Post hoc
“Well, it serves me right, maybe,” she sighed.
“He’d have stopped, had I asked, had I tried.”
She had led him on, true,
Been a tease, as you do,
But, by God, he’d felt good, up inside!
Regret
Tears welled in her innocent eyes,
Her breasts heaved with her heart-broken sighs;
She’d been lied to and laid,
Been seduced and betrayed,
Love’s sweet juice still flowed warm down her thighs!
The embrace
Though she wasn’t immune to his charms,
She confessed to herself a few qualms;
Might he love her and leave her,
Debauch and deceive her?
“Who cares?” she thought, snug in his arms!
Girt
Her full breasts dangled over her girdle;
Her bra gone, her tights still to hurdle.
“Come on!” she cried, giggling,
Her big bosom jiggling,
“My milk is beginning to curdle!”