“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!”
Tag: love
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?
Three little words
Although saying “I love you” seems trite,
It should cause no offence, and just might,
With a little good luck,
Perhaps lead to a fuck,
And, if true, make the fucking alright!
Familiarity V contempt
Yes, he’d rooted her (rather delightful),
To show that he could, (which was spiteful),
To prove her a slut,
Which he had, of course, but
They were sort of in love, which was frightful!
Darwinism at work
The foreplay a sharp peck or a growl;
Such is life, for the beast and the fowl!
Rutting, being in season,
Just instinct! Love? Reason?
Wham! Bam! And a screech or a howl!
Seasons past
All her life, endless lonely Septembers,
Each spring, flowers bloom, she remembers;
Alone in her bed,
Love’s words breathlessly said,
His hot touch, her sighs fanning the embers.