She made love with a strange sort of zeal,
A passion she couldn’t conceal.
It seemed, although odd,
She’d forget about God,
And get off doing something more real!
Tag: religion
Twisted sisters
‘Neath the convent’s impressive exterior,
Strange things occurred, ever eerier;
Novices stripped,
Fondled, diddled, or whipped,
At the whim of the Mother Superior!
Brides of Christ
Sister Frances, while at her devotions,
Was prone to erotic emotions;
How painfully odd,
Being married to God!
One of many strange Catholic notions!
The prodigal daughter
She’d backslid, been corrupted and strayed;
She’d gone out and got drunk and got laid,
And it felt so damn good,
That whenever she could,
She backslid more and more, I’m afraid!
A time of reflection
In the church, as she kneels and prays
And reflects on her sins, her mind strays,
To the things she did then,
Longs to do once again,
Which her dripping wet pussy betrays!
Inflamed desire
Fumbling, rash, in his haste to unfasten
Her pantaloons, sadly, the parson,
Whose candle that night
Set her pussy alight,
To the charge of rape thus added arson.
Carmina Burana
An obscure old order monastic,
Decidedly iconoclastic,
Were fuckers and drunks,
(Not your average monks),
And their rites, by and large, orgiastic.
The answer to prayer
From the straight path and narrow she’d strayed,
Given in and had sex, now she prayed
Not for mercy, God-sent,
Since she didn’t repent,
But for more of the same, I’m afraid!
Short shrift
Young Kathleen Jones was heard to lament,
(A small act of religious dissent),
“God! What’s wrong with these men?
For a root now and then
I’d quite gladly confess and repent!”
Indulgence
The monks fucked Sister Joan on a roster,
Reciting, meanwhile Pater Noster;
Mouth, bottom as well!
Would she then burn in Hell?
Or was God, like the monks, an imposter?