Be mine, Valentine

I wish I could tell you "I really love you",

But come on, let's face it, that wouldn't be true.

For me, the fourteenth is about having sex,

So get to the doc for your STD checks.

As only when you've got the final all-clear,

Will I let your body and mine become near.

First, I lie down and you piss in my face,

Then you go for a dump - we'll soon need that space.

Don't talk to me; please don't ruin the moment.

I want you to sweat; I like when you're fragrant.

You push a vibrator up inside your bum;

It vibrates my cock in your cunt till we cum.

Perhaps this is not what you quite had in mind?

I guess maybe you're not my true Valentine.

Bernie is sick

Bernie is a sickly thing.
Autumn doth yearly bring
A glut of viruses
For diagnosis.

Her weak constitution
And wide experimentation
Has left her prone
And likely to moan.

What can we shove in her hole?
To make her feel whole?
Or use as a prophylactic,
As an alternative tactic?

So that she's in the pink,
She needs one... let's think...
Tablet of zinc?
Healthy fruit drink?
No, throw those down the sink.

No, here's The Shocker -
Bernie's best doctor -
Use double action
For unrivalled reaction!

Ode to Louise

Louise likes gin.

Gin gin gin gin.

But there's more to her;

Let's get under her skin.

As well as gin,

(Did you know she likes gin?)

Louise likes to gulp

The spunk of virgins.

Unlike the gin,

Because she loves the gin,

She lets the spunk

Dribble all down her chin.

From there it drips

All over her tits,

Where she rubs it in

With the penis she grips.

Then I come along

And whip out my dong

To add to the mess

On her face and chest.

Next Nathan strolls in.

Louise looks at him.

"Now you must watch"

She says with a grin.

A further thirty-eight guys

Undo their flies.

They gather round

To come from all sides.

All of her skin,

To Nate's chagrin,

Is covered in cum -

She laughs at him.

But all of this sin

To Louise is nothing

Compared to her love

For drinking gin.

Lament for Martina

Martina now has left us;

It's like she is dead.

That's how I would like her:

Limp upon my bed.

She would not protest,

She wouldn't need a gag

When I removed her corpse

From the body bag.

I would still handcuff her

Hands behind her back.

Her tits look at their best

When she's pushing out her rack.

I could manipulate her

Any way I choose.

Safe in the certain knowledge

That the dead don't bruise.

I wouldn't have to worry

About lubrication.

Her flesh would move enough

After putrefication.

And when her skin is hanging off

And I can't bear the smell,

What's left would be a perfect treat

At lunch for feeding Belle.

Message to Bradley

Bradley, just fuck Christa, please,

Stop being such a tease.

She needs a proper seeing to;

You're the only one who'll do.

Bradley, just fuck Christa, please,

But with one stipulation:

I'd like to watch as you do and

Indulge in masturbation.

Together, you're actually annoying,

But physically both buff.

I'm sure Christa could handle both

Our members in her muff.

She can watch us getting sweaty

While we grind away.

If she's there, then what we do

Isn't really gay.

You could reach your hand around

And finger my bum.

I'll rub our schlongs off together

'Til we both shoot cum.

Bradley, forget Christa, please,

She's such an utter tease.

You need a proper seeing to;

I'm the only one who'll do.

Farewell, Anna

Anna, you're leaving;

This makes me sad.

(This poem you're reading

May make you glad.)

When you get upon that jet

I wish you all the best.

My regret? That I won't get

To motorboat your chest.

I would've liked a tit wank

From your majestic mother lodes.

You could give my arse a spank

While my load goes up your nose.

This is a marvellous story!

During my morning shower

It made me really horny.

I came with massive power

From my morning glory.

Anyway, to you: good luck,

Which obviously rhymes with 'fuck'.

But I am not so crude

As to say something so rude.

Sod it: come back as I'm in the mood

For a seedy titty-fuck!

Ode to Vidya

No one is safe from Vidya

Nor the things she’ll do to ya.

The things that she did to me

Will become legendary.

First, she plucked my hair.

The ones, you know, 'down there'.

Next, I was whipped with a chain -

My nob'll never be the same.

She tied me with barbed wire,

Called me her bitch and set fire

To matches in all my holes.

This gave her many lolz.

She leapt and straddled my face

And sprayed my wounds with mace.

She reached down and had a taste

Of the tears running down my face.

(If you can’t cope with this now,

My abuse at the hands of this cow,

Go make your way to the exit –

‘Cos I’m not yet at the best bit.)

Then Vidya's mighty strap on

Split my arse wide open.

She made me suck upon it,

Taste my shit and vomit.

The crescendo was this:

She gave me a kiss,

Made me worship her tits.

Got kinky boots on,

Stamped on my thumb,

Then opened my bum.

Lubed up her fist,

Saw the red mist

And wouldn't desist,

Went right up inside

While I just cried

And nearly died...

*

‘Vidya’s not like that’

Was the thought I had.

BUT…

From here, things only got worse -

My ball sack is now

Her purse.

Lee & Bernice - two haikus

Gazing at the floods

The huge amounts of fluid

Like Lee's orgasms

A winter's mealtime

Thoughts of hot, creamy moistness

In Bernie's deep bowl