She was known around town as a flirt,
Strutting round in her little short skirt.
She went drinking in bars,
And she never wore bras;
You could see her tits, right through her shirt!
All the mums in the town were alert,
Watching out for young Tom, Dick or Bert,
Who would all cop a wallop
If caught with this trollop,
With nipples so pointy and pert!
When they spoke to her, women were curt,
(In suspenders and step-ins well-girt),
She was called slut and whore,
And a loose bitch and more:
She was even called “that piece of dirt!”
At the pub, though, the men-folk would blurt,
“I could fuck that sweet bitch till it hurt!”
They did nothing, of course,
For the fear of divorce
And disgrace kept their organs inert.
But young boys’ sleeping organs would spurt,
Like whipped cream on a jelly dessert,
And they’d wake in their beds,
With that girl in their heads,
As their cocks gave one last lonely squirt.
Tag: limerick
Undress rehearsal
“Please be gentle!” she said. “You’re my first!”
With a tear in her eye and lips pursed.
Said he, wise to her game,
“All you girls are the same:
Never done it, but damn well rehearsed!”
Be prepared
My ex-girlfriend (and boy, do I mean ex)
Wore dresses with deep plunging v-necks.
She never went out,
Even shopping, without
Condoms, lubricant jelly and Kleenex!
Feedback
In a voice that was less than enthused,
She said “Frankly, I’m far from amused.
You have come in such haste,
It’s a sad fucking waste!
I’m beginning to wish I’d refused!”
Grace under pressure
In the throes of a torrid embrace,
Miss O’Toole maintains marvellous grace:
She indulges men’s whims
With her loins and her limbs,
But with never a hair out of place!
Under the kilt
Poor wee delicate Angus Dunbarton
On cold morns was never a spartan:
The rest of the clan
Thought him less than a man,
To wear underwear under the tartan!
Maiden
Medium fidelity
My new mistress, evasive and devious,
Asked had she acted mischievious,
Said “Not as such…
Well, not terribly much…
That is… nobody new, just my previous!”
Cad
Gilding the lily
When young women go out on a date,
It’s the primeval search for a mate,
So they groom and they dress
To entice and impress,
And try not to leave too much to fate.
Once a girl would have been chaperoned:
Private meetings were never condoned.
Well, back then that was great,
But these days kids don’t wait,
They hook up and get drunk or get stoned.
Now a girl does herself up as bait,
Almost serves herself up on a plate,
And behaviour’s routine,
Once thought lewd and obscene
Self respect and regrets come too late!
Not content with her natural state,
And obsessed with her body and weight,
A young girl now invests
In new super-size breasts,
Which go hard or cock-eyed, or deflate.
You could see it as funny or sad.
Modern girls are all stupid or mad.
They just can’t get it straight:
Why such distrust and hate
Of the natural beauty they had?