Although said as a sort of aside,
It was not as if, though, that he’d lied
When he’d called her a slut,
Not in those words, quite, but
Unmistakably, crudely implied.
Tag: slut
Confidentiality
She looked like she might root. Well, potentially.
“Yeah”, said his mate. “Confidentially,
See that big bloke?
He says he’s had a poke,
And she’s good, but a slut though, essentially.”
Saving grace
She was left feeling just a bit peeved,
To have let herself be thus deceived;
To be used like a slut,
So embarrassing, but …
Such a cock! One would not have believed!
The girl most likely
She was fond of a root, just that way,
User-friendly, perhaps you could say,
In the back of boys’ cars,
Stairways, under the stars,
But no time for love, only for play!
Funny, that.
Her tight jeans tucked up into her cunnie,
A bit of a slut, but a honey!
A couple of drinks,
Might get lucky, he thinks.
As it turns out, he’s right on the money!
All’s not lost
All her chickens had come home to roost.
Called a slut, whore. All hell was unloosed!
The whole town, it seemed, knew
She was fuckable, true,
But it did give her street cred a boost!
Alter-ego
Though apparently highly respectable,
Deep within, hardly detectable
Underplayed, but
Always there, was a slut,
With a body just bloody delectable!
Taking her chances
She’s a slut and a sinner, yea verily,
Rooting her way through life merrily,
Destined for hell,
Anybody can tell!
Well perhaps… although not necessarily.
Sisterhood
Could the new novice be an imposter?
The sisters, who’ve made up a roster,
To lie with her , say
She’s a slut, doesn’t pray,
Not so much as a damn Pater Noster!
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.