Feel free to borrow this gents. The ladies will swoon, trust me
How I love thee and all of your beauty
And your kind gentle soul it so moves me
You’re quite perfect it seems
Youre the girl of my dreams
With you vice grip vagina, round booty
Bloody hell, that’s a bit grim, I will admit…
A young undertaker names Beth
Had a quite frightful case of bad breath
For she loved giving head
To the stiffening dead
How she loved the dank taste of sweet death
It’s just one. It will be fine. No one will know trust me…
A flatulent baker called Martin
Won all contests he’d entered his tarts in
His baked wares were the best
And he proudly confessed
“‘Cos as well as sweet treats, they have fart in!”
What a year indeed…
A philandering chap with a mistress
Took another, then two more at Christmas
Dirty threesome in May
Then for June he turned gay
He got aids, gonorrhoea and syphilis
Its something I guess. It is Tuesday, so don’t expect too much. Not a fan of Tuesday…
Small organed chap from Jamaica
Had a wife, twas an orgasmic faker
Alas try as he might
He could not get it right
Nipples, neck, clit and tit, could not make her
nasty nasty nasty
Lonely farmer, long nights, all alone
watched hot animal vids on his phone
he succumbed to desire
as lambs set him afire
and the squealing pigs so made him moan
It’s just one. It will be fine. No one will know trust me…
handsome chap, sexual health, regards not
Hookers, men, women, wives, banged the lot
quite a shock, he found out
caught aids, siph, clap and gout
now he’s dead, decomposed, not so hot
Hard as the rock he so loves
A geologist thrilled by erosion
ox bow lakes, sedimentary corrosion
quite turned on by ablation
or a wet river basin
limestone layers cause trouser explosion
For that special someone
A new love, mid act of sweet love making
Said “Oh babe yeah so hot, god I’m shaking”
“Not a chance” she replied
“You dont touch either side
now get off ‘cos I’m done with my faking”
I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction…
Another month of M’s writing prompts lies ahead. I did them all in December but was less successful in January. Let’s see how we do in February shall we.
I thought perhaps I would turn my hand to a spot of erotic fiction for this prompt piece but realised that I would need to be serious and found it rather difficult.
There I am trying to create the right mood for you the reader but before I know it I am throwing in words willy nilly such as throbbing, veined and moist.
“You’re better than that Michael” I tell myself sternly and quickly follow it with a paragraph where I choose to toss in engorged, breathless and arched in quick succession.
“No one needs that, the 50 shades phase has passed” I insist (though Mrs Michael did go to the cinema the other night to watch it) before attempting a scene where a white cotton shirt is ripped asunder exposing a smooth taut chest.
I had to do a spot of research on the matter and by the time I was done my description of the smoothness of the aforementioned chest was such that it made it sound like it was that of a child and I quickly deleted it because no one wants to read about children ripping anything asunder never mind nice cotton shirts.
My browser was also full of dark curly haired fellow looking wistfully into the distance whilst their shirts flapped in the wind.
At this point I am thinking I will give it one last go but I found myself overusing the letter ‘m’ in my ‘mmmmm’ and realised that I had no idea what I was doing, the female in the piece sounded like she had a really bad cold and that not only should I pack it in and go fill the dishwasher or empty the bins but I should delete all trace of the piece entirely just in case one of the kids stumbles upon it.
I really don’t know my vulva from my Volvo and I wouldn’t want tmy boys having to ask why nice Mrs Chambers from number 4 was having her Volvo examined by the postman. He’s a nice enough chap but not sure he knows much about cars.
Afterwards 