“By confession, one gains absolution,
Incest,” the priest said “self-pollution.
Worse too, I daresay;
All one’s sins washed away,
Or at least undergone some dilution!”
Tag: masturbation
Mister Perfect
So, my ideal lover, she said,
Fucks me good, doesn’t mess with my head;
No damn lies, bullshit, flattery,
Comes with a battery,
Always there, under my bed.
Going solo
Strung along for six years by Ralph,
Betty thought, fuck him! Left on the shelf!
Well, the bastard, all said,
Was dead hopeless in bed…
She’d keep on getting off by herself!
Tiptoe through the two lips
Finger painting, or flicking the bean,
Muffin buffin’, you know what I mean?
You can frap, you can shlick,
What a shame you can’t lick!
So deliciously lewd and unclean!
Sexual hygiene
Fungi, viruses, prions, bacteria,
Cunts are a germ cafeteria!
Look, but don’t touch!
Just jerk off or some such,
While you stare at its tempting exterior.
Hands-on learning
Not much hair on her pussy, just fuzz.
When she touches it though, as she does,
If she rubs it just right,
She discovered one night,
Just by chance, there’s a nice kind of buzz!
Cuban girls
They’re laid back, women down in Havana.
No sex today? Maybe mañana!
They drink rum and dance,
Love a bit of romance,
Or, for lack of a man, a banana!
The id and the ego
She’d been used like a slut, hurt, disgraced.
She recalled it with lust, yet distaste,
But she’d do it again,
Which, as Freud would explain,
Masturbation, of course, just displaced.
Purring pussy
Just a thin thatch of pussy hair, fuzz;
When she rubbed it, of course, as one does,
Well, a little below,
It felt funny, although,
Not unpleasant, a nice kind of buzz!
Making do
Randy, reckless, what might do the job?
She thought. Cucumber? Corn on the cob?
Carrot? Candle? Shampoo?
A wine bottle? Her shoe?
Wait! That’s it! The stair banister knob!