How do I love thee
Doting, heart full of passion
reciprocated?
How do I love thee
Doting, heart full of passion
reciprocated?
For what she was about to receive…such great bounty indeed!
Pyromaniac nympho called Linda
Took a lad home that she met on Tinder
Took some candles to bed
How he screamed as he fled
Burnt the poor fellows cock to a cinder
It’s that time again
Once a virginal lassie from Bury
To her boyfriend she offered her cherry
“Damn wrong hole” she did cry
“You’re two inches too high!”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, she replied “Very!”
Meat based frolics
Once a perverted butcher called Pete
Did despicable things with his meat
It would so make you quiver
As he frolicked in liver
Rubbed his sausage with rancid pigs feet
Feel free to use it if you know someone in need!
You poor thing, heard you’re feeling unwell
That it’s itching and starting to swell
Hope you feel well real soon
And it doesn’t balloon
And explode with a pungent vile smell
Just something about bleached anus’
This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here. These used to be 101 words. Sometimes they still are. Sometimes not. They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time. Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.
“Another,” Balthazar demanded, and slammed his glass on the bar top. His wings bristled, and the dim light glinted on the tips of his horns as he looked around the room. Small wisps of smoke drifted from his nostrils and his thin lips curled up in a sneer, revealing his sharp, white teeth.
A tall, pale faced creature with skin like dirty snow wandered across, his deep blue eyes flashed as he poured a thick, dark liquid into the waiting glass.
“Long day?” He asked. The barkeep pushed the cork back into the bottle, wiped the bar top habitually, and then flicked the cloth so that it sat across his shoulder.
Balthazar snarled and downed the drink, again loudly demanding a refill.
“You sure about that?” Asked the tall, pale creature. “This stuff don’t come cheap you know, and ….”
“Another!” Balthazar roared.
The glass was quickly filled, and then filled once more. The rage in Balthazar’s eyes dimmed slightly with each consumed glass, and by the time he had finished two more he placed the empty vessel quietly.
“Yes,” he said, letting out a long deep sigh.
“Yes, what?” the bar keep asked puzzled, as he offered the bottle once more.
Balthazar placed a hand over the glass and shook his head.
“Long day. You asked me if it had been a long day. Yes, yes it has. Really long.”
The barkeep nodded and placed the bottle back on the shelf behind him as Balthazar continued.
“It’s people you see,” he said, the wisps of smoke now gone and the fire in his eyes dimmed. “You know how it is with them right?” He didn’t, however, wait to find out whether the barkeep did, or did not, know how it was with people and continued. “Every day I get up, clean my horns, sharpen my teeth and ensure that my skin suit is clean and presentable. I’m never late, I stay late, and I give my very best efforts. You know what that gets me?” He asked.
A wide mouthed, bat like creature with ears where its eyes ought to be and eyes where its ears ought to be settled on the bar next to him and looked him up and down. It then caught the attention of the barkeep and asked for two vodka martinis to be delivered to table seven.
“You know how it is with people right?” Balthazar asked it, “you know how they are I’m sure.”
The bat like animal flashed a smile with its ear-eyes and gave Balthazar what he took be a confirmatory nod, and flittered off towards the back of the room where what appeared to be a couple of snakes were having a loud disagreement over the existential power of apple imagery in medieval architecture.
“You see, he knows,” Balthazar said, “he knows what they’re like.”
The barkeep was used to this sort of thing, he tended to see it a lot as the week wore on. First thing Monday morning everyone was filled with the optimism of the week ahead, the potential for pain and suffering, the chance to make a real difference and bring proper misery and sadness. But by Wednesday he could see the doubt seeping in as the long hours took their toll. By Friday the stark reality would dawn on them and they would flock to the bar after work with a pocket full of silver and a big old dose of reality.
“People,” the barkeep said knowingly.
“Exactly!” Proclaimed Balthazar. “See, you get it too. There is nothing that we can do to them that they probably haven’t already done to each other.” He seemed invigorated in finding someone who understood his plight. “Do you know, that just this morning I was doing some anal stretching on a school teacher from California, and do you knwo what she said?”
The barkeep shook his head.
“Bleach. She asked for bleach. Said she wanted to look her best and was wondering if she might be able to put a picture of it it on the ‘gram becasue she was pretty sure none of her friends would believe it.” Balthazar took a deep breath to compose himself, visibly shaking. “Do you know how hard it is to find bleachg down here?” He continued. “But even when I did find some it really wasn’t as if it was my idea, so where’s the joy in that. I had intended to start with gaping and progreess from there. I mean most people finish at gaping, so I set a high bar, professionally speaking. But I just couldn’t relly get into it. She stole all the pleasure from it. Left me with this horrible empty feeling right in the pit of my stomach.”
“That’s out of order,” said the barkeep as he signalled the bat like creature to fetch the drinks for table seven.
“Damn right it is, I had to desecrate a couple of yoga teachers to try and make myself feel better about things, but sometimes even defiled yoga teachers aren’t enough to make you feel good.”
“So what did you do?” The barkeep asked as Balthazar motioned to his empty glass once more.
“2 million likes for a bleached stretched anus,” Balthazar replied, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dark with disappointment. “Two million. I swear, we really should have just left them to it. They dont take anything seriously, and nothing we can do can make it any worse up here…fuck them all.”
One about a chap with a super hairy butthole. Because why the hell not.
A botanist, Daniel Mclarey
Had an anus, hirsute, super hairy
He would oft get it plucked
If he was to get fucked
But if not, overgrown, ’twas quite scary
For what she was about to receive…such great bounty indeed!
A Christian couple, just wed
Found themselves all alone on the bed
She went down on her knees
And he grinned “Oh yes please”
She said grace for such bounty, gave head
A dirty one about putting people in one’s mouth.
Astute mathematician, Horatio
Pythagarus Fan, loved fellatio
He could tell at first sight
If it’d fit or be tight
Could guess length, girth, and shaft to mouth ratio
To those who followed me because I wrote about dieting. This is probably closer to the real me. Sorry 🙂
Sex mad divorcee, now, online dating
Swipes and clicks left her moist, salivating
A transvestite off Grinder
Sweating, grunting, behind her
Tinder twins in each hand, masturbating
In case you know someone who broke their dick and got them a card but were unsure what to write
Heard you slipped on some lube near the hearth
And your penis, my god, broke in half
Bent at 90 degrees
it’s quite tricky to please
Here’s a card, I tried hard not to laugh
Defiling Japanese poetry one picture at a time.
Bleak isolation
Flowery lady garden
Ever worlds apart
Defiling Japanese poetry one drawing at a time.
To pass unhindered
Where once we trod so freely
Now inhibited
Enjoy. Or don’t. But secretly do.
A vet from round our way quite smitten
By felines, especially kittens
He made two into hats
And a load into spats
Then the leftovers made into mittens
Defiling Japanese poetry one drawing at a time
Unbridled passion
Anticipation, cut short
Blissful moment lost
And with a religious theme
A fan of the clan, angry man
Had a son, tiny hands, orange tan
Lost a landslide election
Inspired insurrection
Lost his shit, got himself twitter ban
Defiling Japanese poetry one drawing at a time
One about everyone’s favourite racist
A piss coloured POTUS of note
Lost his job, is protesting the vote
With the loss of his powers
It’s back to golden showers
With hookers, be kind though, don’t gloat
Merry Christmas, or happy whatever you celebrate …have a lovely day!
A purveyor of filth, Nicky Klaus
A whoremonger, purveyor of whores
With his huge bulging sack
And his craving for crack
And a leather clad spank on all fours
Just because why not
A God fearing couple were waiting
Until marriage before consummating
He prayed “Give me strength please”!
And he fell to his knees
His unused testicles fast inflating
One about boobs
A large breasted hooker, Celeste
Did declare that her breasts were the best
Local chaps were invited
And the prospect excited
To put her proud claims to the test
Why the devil not eh.
Devout young chap met each Thursday
Buxom wench who would service the clergy
She would take off her nickers
For Priests, Imams and Vicars
And enable arousing liturgy
Bloody hell that’s nasty
A drug loving hooker, Petunia
For five bucks, with a strap on, would ruin ya’
But worse, her Sister Beth
Would gave hand jobs for meth
Take a dump on your chest and then spoon ya
Sorry. Hope youre not having breakfast…
A horny young lad from Korea
69ing, though had diahhorea
In the midst of the fun
Felt a stir in his bum
Filled his partners mouth, nose, eyes and ear
Happy Saturday you filthy animals 🙂
Once a pig loving lass from Majorca
Who’d scoff trotters, chops, Bacon and loin, her
Cravings got her so wet
for scotch eggs she’d forget
all her morals and for snout she’d pork ya