Maybe someone out there needs to hear this. Maybe it’s you. Maybe youre a dirty little monkey indeed!
Hope this finds you somewhat on the mend
Hear it’s swollen quite close to the end
Feels like it may fall off
If you move fast or cough
And you near shit your pants when you bend
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
I like to think that one day it will come out that this is what’s on those secret Trump Tapes…
Trumpesque water sports fan, name of Trystin
Pretty mouth that he loved to have pissed in
Craved his balls to be squeezed
Nipples bit, clamped and teased
And on Tuesday’s a large handed fisting
One about a ladies cavernous front bum
A voluptuous temptress from Cuba
A vagina shaped quite like a tuba
And she would not delay
To allow you to play
Her, so wide was she, no need to lube her
Just work on the speed of that last line…it works I assure you .
Just a little something for you.
An amorous lad, Jeff from Devon
Met a girl and he promised her heaven
Fraught with amorous sighs
Reached aroused twixt her things
Turns out not quite a Kate, but a Kevin
Go on, treat yourself.
Married chap with a thing for his gardener
Found his long garden hose quite the hardener
He would gaze at it’s girth
As it watered the earth
Made him wander and betray his partner
February had 29 days, March 200 and April has 625. I have no idea what day or month it is to be honest…
This poor lad I know, self isolated
Spent his days watching porn, masturbated
Till his bits were quite raw
And his arms were real sore
And his balls were all red and inflated
Bet you’d forgotten about these two…I had…
The last year I have not been particularly active on my blog, but there was a time when I was prolific. Having more time on my hands has me returning a little more often and dusting off the ideas I had parked. Today I think I will revisit one of my favourite series of pieces and bring it up to date. You can see all the previous pieces at the links below. I think. It’s mostly just dirty poetry about a curvaceous couple having sex in space as I recall. I think I even did an audio poem version.
https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/31/fatties-in-space-not-one-for-the-kiddies/
https://afterwards.blog/2017/09/23/fatties-in-space-the-poem-not-for-kiddies/
https://afterwards.blog/2018/07/15/fatties-in-space-the-poem-audio/
https://afterwards.blog/2017/10/14/fatties-in-space-part-3-definitely-still-not-for-kiddies/
https://afterwards.blog/2018/07/28/fatties-in-space-part-4-the-poem-audio/
https://afterwards.blog/2019/01/14/fatties-in-space-part-5/
Bloody hell I did a lot of that didn’t I…
Anyway let us return to the present…
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So some time has elasped and our couple content
watch tv, go for walks, quiet evenings are spent
with warm slippers, and tea and a nice box of chocs
Now she eats praline creams where she once ate his cock
And sweet caramel swirls feed his most basic cravings
Seems an eon since balls deep they were misbehaving
But we’ve all been there, right?
Grown complacent and settled
Since the humming bird sampled from soft pink sweet petals
Work gets in the way, rowdy kids take their toll
Rather just read a book where you once rode the pole
If efforts arent made then lusts embers can fade
Now you’re getting quite fat instead of getting laid
But seems things are afoot, it’s a changed situation
For our couple are now in enforced isolation
Social distancing worries have them safe at home
And for weeks now they’ve been pretty much all alone
And without the distraction and stresses and strains
And with time on their hands seems they start to refrain
From excuses and reasons not to both enjoy
The pleasures of flesh and fun toys to employ
Like the bike not forgotten theyre back on the horse
Shes not wuite as flexible, he’s breathless of course
But the thril of the bliss and the gratification
Oh the sweet benefits of this home isolation…
…About Gender reassignment
A broad shouldered young fellow called Fred
“Bod’s a male, I’m female in my head”
He quite firmly asserted
Has his penis inverted
Keeps his balls in a jar near his bed
It’s been a few weeks…here you go.
There once was a slut from Tunisia
Had a quite awful case of amnesia
Every morning emerging
From her sleep a fresh virgin
Then go search for a fellow to please her
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!”
.
.
.
I had to do a wee but of research on this to get the imperial measurements as I am very much metric born and raised. Oh and yes I know, position matters here in the general up and down of things. Look you’ll work it out I am sure…Now my browser needs clearing. See the lengths I go to for your limericky pleasure!
Friday! Result!
Lonely fellow from North of the border
Bought his ladies online, made to order
Silicone lips and tits
Plastic nipples and clits
arse cheeks plump, narrow waist, shoulders broader
A broad shouldered lady called Brenda
Big old hands, hairy arms, legs quite slender
Wispy beard and top lip
Quite full breast, curvy hip
Size 12 feet, hard to classify gender
It’s that time again
A young cow hand alone on the range
Felt a stirring, peculiar and strange
Watched steers evening till dawn
Loved their rumps, and the horn
Well lets just say that it made him deranged
The yin to my poetic yang…
Friend of mine met a lass from Bermuda
He pursued, flowers, food, woo’d and screwed her
But within ’bout a week
Realised, quite the freak,
As she cried, strap-on lubed, “Let’s get ruder!”
You’d think I would have given up by now wouldn’t you…
Once this bloke I know works in a kitchen
Sausage got his aroused, he was itching
For a night of rough sex
But by morn was most vexed
As his anus was torn and needs stitching.
More than 600 limericks and first time I have used ‘front bum’.
Yeah I know, surprised me too.
Woman, goodstanding of the judiciary
had a front bum that smelled like a fishery
She would hand down decrees,
Judgements, consider pleas
But if upwind then that was true misery.
Don’t go acting all surprised.
A good friend of mine took her new lover
Off to bed only there to discover
He was epileptic, and thrashed
During sex, how she splashed
Up the walls, on the floor and bed cover.
Damn you to hell
History dictates
No one can ever enjoy
A small black moustache
Better than being punched in the man boobs I suppose…
She with wonky boobs
and he with his wonky eyes,
true beauty beholds.
Just a quick 101 words
I haven’t done this for a while. 101 words. Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end. Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.
With rain running down her face Maria smiled as she remembered that first meeting. Mother said that she’d know when she met the one. Mother was right.
She loved his charm, that assured way he walked over and god that confidence. Her pulse still raced at the thought, the way he looked at her with those dark eyes and the things she felt when he placed his hand unexpectedly on her arm. He was intoxicating and too delicious to resist.
“I wonder if he has a brother?” She thought tipping the final shovel of soil over his face and walking away…
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
A fond farewell to these at last…
You’re the sun on my face
You’re the wind in my sails
My everything and my all
.
Im the breath on your windows
The rustling in your bush
Want to cut you open, climb inside
.
Breathing deep I inhale you, musty and wet
Hunched over your laundry basket
I squirm as my heart leaps inside
.
Carve you’re name into my desperate flesh
Your name drips from my lonely lips
I want to wear you , my corpse bride
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
