14.6.13 Poetic Licence

Apologies for the repeated posting, but after reading this one from the end of 2011, I thought it worth sharing again.  Clearly you will not want to read on if you dislike the C-word . . . . in which case, why on earth did you type the word, click and view this page in the first place?

Annie shaved her fanny

With a Bic but it was blunt

While preparing for an airing

And a dick inside her cunt

She was hoping for a groping

And a finger on her clit

With a shaven little haven

It could linger on her slit.

Annie shaved her fanny

As she thought it might appeal

And be pleasing even teasing

When she sought a decent feel

So a fidget with a digit

Meant a push and easy slide

All the better feeling wetter

Now her bush was cast aside.

Annie shaved her fanny

But the razor wasn’t new

And it rather meant the lather

Didn’t pay or save her flue

From the soreness or the rawness

That would make her very red

Or the itching and the twitching

That would wake her up in bed.

Annie shaved her fanny

For a smoother place to lick

But she hurried and she’s worried

Cos she used a knackered Bic

So her craving for a shaving

Was a stunt she can’t forget

All the trouble from the stubble

Stops her cunt from getting wet.

Annie shaved her fanny

For a shot at getting laid

But was careless getting hairless

And forgot to check the blade

She was feckless even reckless

As she tugged the yellow Bic

Through the thicket of her wicket

Never plugging any nick.

Annie shaved her fanny

With a vision in her mind

It was risky for the whisky

Meant awareness had declined

So perspective was defective

As she pressed the scratchy blade

She was cruising and abusing

And obsessed in her crusade.

Annie shaved her fanny

But was gifted with a mess

As her lover would discover

When he lifted up her dress

She was yearning for the burning

To be quelled and to be free

For a ditching of the itching

And the smell of TCP.

Annie shaved her fanny

Quite believing it was cool

She was gagging for a shagging

And receiving Danny’s tool

But the fucker saw the pucker

And the swelling round her gash

Plus her delta when he felt her

Had a telling bumpy rash.

Danny looked at Annie

With dismay and some concern

As she brooded he concluded

Not to say that she should learn

She was clearly paying dearly

For her drunken little trick

So he struggled and he juggled

With his shrunken floppy prick.

Annie spread her fanny

And she willed him to invade

She was lusting for his thrusting

To be filled and not betrayed

So he entered at the centre

Of the lacerated mound

And his shunting left her grunting

With exacerbated sound.

Annie felt her fanny

Being snagged and start to smart

More affliction came with friction

Cuts were dragged and pulled apart

But she couldn’t and she wouldn’t

Be conceding her defeat

Be deflated or frustrated

By her bleeding piece of meat.

Annie’s cactus fanny

Was a grater of the skin

And it conquered Danny’s plonker

Which he later thought akin

To a totem on a scrotum

That was botched to smithereens

Missing sections of erection

He was botched within his jeans.

Annie shaved her fanny

But the Bic was rather blunt

Now she’s dabbing at the scabbing

And she’s picking at her cunt

All her sutures in the future mean

A decent full repair

No more gasping with the rasping

From the recent loss of hair.

Copyright TMWSC 2011

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