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By coujeaux Date: 2003 Feb 09 Comment on this Work [[2003.02.09.02.17.21035]] |
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Seeing the satisfied look on her face, it was quite obvious to me she thought it already won, Proclaiming her territory off-limits, erecting barriers to anyone unaware no battle was begun. Her attitude screamed of St. Paul between her legs with machete, guarding that Pearly Gate, And I could have sworn her eyelashes Medusa-danced with a stony gaze seething with hate. Perhaps wiser men would have felt dismembered by her affectation; I couldn't hide my glee, By leaning down to an intimate distance and whispering how worthless it was, even for free. Mostly the patrols men engage in is enough of a challenge, but at times she's wicked secure, You'd think her womanhood was made of platinum and put through testing to certify it pure. We've no right to assume the prize is forthcoming for our efforts; it's not all about the notch, Though I'll be damned if a female beats me with assumptions my sole interest is her crotch. I do love them so, and I've no shame in admitting my libido is supercharged at any chance, But I draw the line like chalk around that corpse when my hello is met by threepoint stance. Don't get me wrong, ladies, this indictment is aimed at a select few who force men to crawl, Riding high on the endorphins of taunting some slap like her canal's worthy of the Taj Mahal. Put it on a pedestal for public display if you like, hell, even try bronzing like an infant's shoe, Or donate it for the historical study of gynecological students for all the use it's been to you. Such vanity renders the vaginal pride as vestigial, for supply is so dependent upon demand, It's rather difficult to flaunt what ain't been got in so long man's best friend becomes a hand. |