TRUE CONFESSIONS
If I were a pulp-fiction prick—
What a True Confession storyline
I could entertain you with, but
My life has no real lost romance,
No secrets to titillate the imagination
No National Enquirer readership
Waiting in the check-out lines of
Stark suburban grocery stores with
Ogling eyeballs for grabbing the News
I’m just a used-up old moldy Dildo—
Who’s seen better days than this,
Stuffed under the bed of a Lady who
Used to really get into sex with studs.
Especially eager-beaver Freshman,
Anxious to nibble the Forbidden Fruit
Of their anal innocence, greedy little
Honey buzzards desperately wanting
To get their innards plowed by me.
It’s been the latest rage, my dears—
Getting pegged by your not-so-innocent
Campus girlfriend, there on their lovely
Moldy-green sheets, the Vaseline and
K-Y greasing the lightening responses of
University of Washington young Huskies
Bent on ending their Virginity, but did
They anticipate their tight little virgin
Sphincters getting fucked so rudely?
No comments:
Post a Comment