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?
Tag: love
Sex and love
Sex and love, not to be disingenuous,
Much as the link may be tenuous,
One may still find
Become blurred in one’s mind,
If the fuck is sufficiently strenuous!
The dilemma
Though a virgin, be that as it may,
How else might she persuade him to stay?
If she gave in, said yes,
Would he love her, then, less,
Or the more, having gone all the way?
Being there
Said Camus “Fucking’s all existential.
The act, in itself, the essential!”
“And love?” she insists,
“When one’s loved one exists!
As for fucking, it’s just providential!”
The matter in hand
“To be frank, from the first time I saw you,
I’ve loved you,” she said. “I adore you!
One quite understands
Why you sit on your hands,
But perhaps I could sit on them for you!”
The rhythm of life
Young and innocent, blindly enamoured,
“I l… l… l… love you!” she stammered,
Her tits flapping round,
Her words drowned by the sound
Of her pussy (Thump! Slap!) being hammered!
Time and motion
He, like all men, has sex needs of course,
Satisfied without love or remorse;
Money, power, he’s found,
Keep the women around;
Tits and arses, a human resource.
Pimp my bride
Love betrayed! What a snake in the grass!
To be pimped! Such heartache! So low class!
Her illusions dispelled,
She danced nude, while he yelled,
“Swing your tits more, and shake your fat arse!”
Willing
Her eyes downcast, she blushed, then went pale;
To be thus addressed by a male.
He loved her, he said!
He must take her to bed!
Inshallah! Yes! Thank God for her veil!
Actions speak louder than words
His talk of love, facile and cloying,
She found quite intensely annoying.
Why couldn’t the brute
Just get on with the root,
Which she’d been till then, rather enjoying?