Permissive as is our society, certain things are still beyond the pale, at least in some circumstances. More and more, though, actions which might have once caused serious alarm and affront now amount only to breaches of etiquette.




Young love

She was young, she was buxom and cute.
Too young or not? That remains moot.
She was ripe and full-grown,
With a will of her own
and a talent for mischief to boot!


He was big and a handsome dumb brute,
Never seen the inside of a suit,
And the way she was dressed
Made him bold to suggest
“Do you fancy a ride in my ute?”

With a logic that’s hard to refute,
She said “Alright. Why not? What a hoot!”
They’d gone twice round the block
When he pulled out his cock
And said “So… are you up for a root?”

She was struck momentarily mute,
Being virgin, and not too astute,
But he had a hot car,
And she’d ventured this far,
She said “Yeah, just pull out when you shoot.”

Her confession at home caused dispute:
She seemed proud of her new ill repute.
“Have you no sense of shame?”
“What about your good name?”
She replied “As fucks go, it was beaut!”


A young woman has filed for divorce,
On the grounds that her husband is coarse,
Since he had her one day
In an unchristian way,
After dipping his dick in hot sauce!


Mrs Jones gave the milk-man a hug,
On the very same living room rug,
Upon which, by the stains,
They’d just fucked, which explains
Why she looked so decidedly smug.


Said Miss Mosely, “Good Lord, you are lewd,
To allow through your fly to protrude,
Your preposterous meat
Where it may, in the street,
By respectable spinsters be viewed!”


Lady Lester protects her good name,
And is safe from all scandal and shame:
She takes care not to shout,
Lest the word get about
That while fucking the vicar, she came!


She was crippled with guilt and remorse,
Which her pain would, of course, reinforce,
For an indiscreet act,
(All now after the fact),
Which betokened her love for her horse.



After two or three glasses of wine,
She said, “Let’s our legs intertwine!
Forgiving’s but mortal,”
She said with a chortle:
“To err though, is simply divine!”


An unlikeable woman, called Ritchie,
Is vulgar, ill-mannered and bitchy:
She’s contantly rude,
Goes about in the nude,
And she scratches her cunt when it’s itchy.


Though Miss Alison Armstrong may seem,
With her pigtails and peaches-and cream,
To be shy and naive,
One would never believe
She does things of which one wouldn’t  dream!



A young lady, much pampered and spoiled,
Her parents’ fond fantasies foiled:
She met, and was had,
By a neighbourhood lad,
And the goods, though not damaged, were soiled.


If you give big, fat Annie a squeeze,
She’ll belch beer, and cackle and wheeze:
She might let loose a fart,
(She’s a slack-arsed old tart),
And she not too infrequently pees!


Every night Miss O’Dare could be viewed,
Through her window, cavorting quite nude.
Cheeky schoolboys would fight
For a seat for the sight,
But respectable citizens queued.

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