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20th Century Fucks

   
 
 

Winging no pants—
   
 
 

Barefoot flimsy micro waving—
   
 

With a quick mimic kick of an eighty yard punt,
   
 

A cheerleader innocently ached her arched cunt
   
 
 

To millions of misbehaving
   
 
 

Tube bon vivants.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Videotape
   
 
 

Cameras (Flash sparks savoir faire!)
   
 

Flashed fleshy folds inferred beyond the butter knees
   
 

That undulate her boozy bosoms' utter tease—
   
 
 

So we all watched no underwear
   
 
 

Unscissor rape ...
   
   
   
   
 
 

Repeatedly!
   
 
 

A T-shirted keep-a-trucking
   
 

Bare-assed hippie anointed her twat with his schlang
   
 

For a starter — Celery martyr! — Soon a gang
   
 
 

Of spurting young studs was fucking
   
 
 

Her heatedly.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Crackling cunt-fire
   
 
 

Surged around the doe-eyed cutie
   
 

To magnetically forge an armada of tools
   
 

Engorged to guide semen to her garden of jewels
   
 
 

When they pierce† the numbing beauty
   
 
 

Hard-ons desire.
   
   
   
 
 

(† pro telo rigida mea cecidi.)
   
   
   
   
   
 
 

Aquarius
   
 
 

Prospectus to meet Priapus
   
 

Erectus, 4 PM, Church, no insects and ants,
   
 

Expect us (Come join with us) It's a real romance ...
   
 
 

"Hey, Babe!" "Take it off!" "Unsnap us!"
   
 
 

"Not marry us!"
   
   
   
   
 
 

Spider, spider,
   
 
 

Come with me, osculate and thresh!
   
 

She changed her mind and chortled, spinning kinkiness
   
 

While one more daddy pounded purple pink of yes
   
 
 

With his warping cane of stiff flesh
   
 
 

Deep inside her.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Laying better
   
 
 

With practice, she thrashed to unhook
   
 

High silken entreaties—to help disentangle—
   
 

Or give the commentator a sleeker angle
   
 
 

To fondle her curves as he took
   
 
 

Off her sweater.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Mr. finger,
   
 
 

Melt the buttons that tie my shirt,
   
 

Ever so gently, over the mounds of my bra,
   
 

For hungry eyes, the lace covered treats in the raw,
   
 
 

Ladled with electric dessert
   
 
 

Buds that linger.
   
   
   
   
 
 

She simply had
   
 
 

To make him stop, so she unstuck
   
 

His bone to show the whole world, but he insisted
   
 

On something worse: he pinned her elbows and twisted
   
 
 

Her body down. Up the dress snuck.
   
 
 

See? Now that's bad!
   
   
   
   
 
 

"You'll be thanking
   
 
 

Me," came next, "for wiping this crap
   
 

From your bottom." Screwed knuckles sliced into her juice.
   
 

She felt something pop loose as he whipped out his moose.
   
 
 

"Oh, God!" She was straddling his lap
   
 
 

For a spanking! †
   
   
   
 
 

(† ab semiraso tunderetur ustore.)
   
   
   
   
   
 
 

"Sex is so nice,"
   
 
 

She announced to his big black shoes.
   
 

"I love!" she yelped, "You for!" she revealed, "Your money!"

   
 

"You won't!" she squealed, "Get any!" she sobbed, "More honey!"
   
 
 

Bees' fuzz on a violet bruise—
   
 
 

A wicked vice!
   
   
   
   
 
 

Buzz sticky fly
   
 
 

In the sticky strands from her fun
   
 

Loving slit to the silver bullets on her nose
   
 

That shudder there in the smoke of the blue-veined rose
   
 
 

Bleeding at dawn's crack, with void tongue
   
 
 

And velvet cry.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Flush cheeks fluttered
   
 
 

As her face sunk o'er his briny
   
 

Foaming nut-propelling pump of an erection
   
 

With lush suburbs being hoisted for inspection
   
 
 

Fundamental to her heinie
   
 
 

Being buttered!
   
   
   
   
 
 

"You piece of dirt!"
   
 
 

Came a voice from another time.
   
 

Her boyfriend was screaming, "How unrespectable!"
   
 

"Oh dear!" (The cream on her grin was delectable)
   
 
 

"Oh darling, I guess you think I'm
   
 
 

An awful flirt!"
   
   
   
   
 
 

(Unruly stunt ...)
   
 
 

"Come and suck-seed!" she slyly said,
   
 

Defying her bitchdom, not nothing underneath,
   
 

Denying him the pleasure of an uncocked sheath )|(
   
 
 

Forbidden fruit, sublimely red
   
 
 

Crescent of cunt.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Someone told her,
   
 
 

"Relax! Take it easy"; they stood
   
 

Around her grinning; snubbed tunic ripped off; cunning
   
 

Hands replaced her bra; others kept her from running
   
 
 

And she heard, "This ought to be good,
   
 
 

—better hold her."
   
   
   
   
 
 

O that jiggling
   
 
 

Now-uncinched white cotton candy
   
 

Got honked by a Nigger whose huge frontal member
   
 

Kissed the Missy's primly tucked in cuntal ember
   
 
 

Till l'il whit fanny split and he
   
 
 

Inched in, wriggling.
   
   
   
   
 
 

Spiked coyote came
   
 
 

Deeply quivered coaxing bolder
   
 

Spasms sputtering sperm. Filmy milk-coated eyes
   
 

Brimming heartrending tears began to recognize
   
 
 

The TV set (???) on his shoulder—
   
 
 

(Football?) That's tame ...
   
   
   
   
 
 

To aardvark's work,
   
 
 

When you're tongued to a Thoroughbred,
   
 

Frenching Cream of Wheat au jus from sopping muttons,
   
 

Clenching bulged upthrusting muffins popping buttons,
   
 
 

Eared to cracked bonny buns† that fed
   
 
 

A circle jerk!
   
   
   
 
 

(† quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, totum ut

 
 

te facient, Fabulle, nasum.)
   
   
   
   
   
 
 

But the ballad
   
 
 

They sing on the lost players' team—
   
 

Ladies sitting around sipping coffee, skirts hiked,
   
 

Legs crossed demurely—is a wistful voice: "I liked
   
 
 

The part when the Black ... adds his cream
   
 
 

In her salad."