So, her trailer-home ain’t nothin’ flash,
And the town women call her white trash…
Part-time hookin’s good pay.
Work all night, sleep all day.
Chicken, whisky, and plenty of cash!
Tag: prostitution
Love’s labours lost
She’d left home, seeking fortune and fame,
Which, like love, sad to say, never came.
She’d had plenty of men,
Some who’d paid, now and then,
Her dark secret, her innermost shame!
Sleepless
Cheap motel, kept awake by the sound
Of girl’s pussies all night being ground,
Some for pay, some for play,
More the latter, he’d say,
Easy come by, in small towns, he’s found.
Free enterprise
To have rooted her would have been nice.
Fucking awesome, to be more precise!
And he could have, perhaps,
As had plenty of chaps.
It was mostly a matter of price.
Over it
When she rooted these days, she perspired.
She’d come, but it just made her tired.
She’d lost her allure,
Her clients were fewer…
About time, she thought, to retire!
The language of love
She was deaf-mute, poor slut, but could mime…
Lusty hip-thrusts, lewd gestures… sublime!
Splendid titties as well,
Sparkling eyes! Truth to tell,
To not root her had seemed a damn crime!
Life
She served drinks in a tavern and whored.
Shame and guilt she could hardly afford.
Just a sort of a life,
Till a mother and wife,
A fond dream she was working toward!
Considering
With the knotted ropes chafing and burning,
Nude, dangling, exposed, twisting, turning,
His cock in her bum,
She once more did the sum…
Was it worth more than what she was earning?
On the job
Naked, dangling there, twisting and turning,
Despite all the cash she was earning,
She thought “How much more?
God! I might be a whore,
But it’s time I became more discerning!”
Job satisfaction
“I love fucking!” she said, with a smirk.
“Kinda job a gal don’t wanna shirk!
Gettin’ paid just to root,
And free whisky to boot!
Shit, it ain’t what I’d really call work!”