Apples to Orgasms

On a tuffet she lay,

As each dwindling ray,

Kissed her muffet like summer’s last lover.

Splayed without care,

And as perfectly bare,

As the autumn-blown branches above her.

Hand on her thigh,

Welling up like the eye

Of a storm, calm, awaiting ascent.

Moans from her mouth,

Sent the birds soaring south

For the winter of her sweet content.

Like a spider,

Her fingers crept nimbly inside her,

And tickled her pink till she’d swoon.

At each lithe, little diddle,

She’d fit like a fiddle,

Strung tautly, yet just out of tune.

Pleasure’s perennial petals

Fell gently and settled

By the bed of her chasm,

With each season that came,

So came she, in the same

Way one might compare apples to orgasms.

The joy it would bring

Her to usher in spring,

Made her flesh and her spirit both swell.

Delighted, she found,

Flowers bloomed from the ground,

In the spots where her honeydew fell.



Handy Hector Heinrich

Hector Heinrich had once been right-handed,

Until around mid ’98,

When the digital porn scene demanded,

He approach things a much different way.

At the juggling act, the man proved himself deft,

It was plain to see how randy Hector was.

When he clicked with his right and he pumped with his left,

Hector found he was quite ambidextrous.

“Danke schön, Internet,” Hector breathed in,

As he nibbled on bratwurst and crackers,

“For transforming generations of right-handed men

Into versatile left-handed whackers.”

Myron MacKenzie’s Meat

His powerful forearms were painted in red,

And his great cleaver danced with precision,

Observed the young girl from the foot of her bed,

As she ogled the graceful incision.

Her beating heart quickened whenever a chicken,

He carved up and cleft into sections.

Besmitten, her breathy heaves thickened. So stricken

Was she, with these carnal affections.

Each night she would spy, by the light of the moon,

On the good butcher, Myron MacKenzie.

Wowed by a cow disemboweled one June,

Went her hands down her panties in frenzy.

As she watched him smear blood ‘cross his apron of white,

On her pillow she nibbled and quivered.

When he ground Polish sausage, she climaxed outright,

And then had a kielbasa delivered.