Hot What?

This poem only available on Lush Stories. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

Once upon a time,
There was a very shy lass.
She wasn’t very pretty,
And she had a massive ass.

“Ah me, oh my,” the shy lass said,
“I cannot talk to men!
Perhaps an online dating site
Will help me chat to them.”

And so, the shy lass sat right down,
And she fired up her computer.
“Let’s see,” said she, all concentration,
“Let me find a suitor.”

She filled in lots of questionnaires,
And measured all her bits.
She did her best to tell the truth
And get her profile hits.

She thought fair deep on what she wanted,
The sort of man she’d like,
Whether tall, or short, or second hand,
In plane, or car, on bike.

“I know,” said she, her shyness fading,
“I’d like a man with passion.
I’d rather he was sexy hot,
I think it’s quite the fashion.”

“Hot stud,” wrote she, “am I your lass?
Could I be your sexy whore?
Could I be the lass you’re dreaming of,
The one you’re gagging for?

“Are my boobies big enough for you?
My ass, it has some padding.
My thighs are firm and like to squeeze;
Is it me that you’ll be adding?”

She listed what she wanted most,
“A stud with throbbing dick.
I don’t mind if it’s short or long,
I’d just like it quite thick.

“I’d love a stud with sexy buns,
That tighten as they plunge
Into my aching pussy lips,
My virginity, expunge.

“I need a stud, whether small or tall,
To play with my hard clit.
I’d suck you too, so worry not,
We’d be a comfy fit.

“I’d like to try some anal play,
To feel you in my bum.
And I’d love to take you in my pussy,
I’m willing to succumb.”

For many hours, the shy lass thought,
And definitely decided
That she’d sort through all the answers well,
Until they had subsided.

Sometimes the first crop can be best,
And others need more time.
“But no!” said she, “I’ll wait for him,
The stud that will be mine.”

And so, the shy lass posted pictures,
With all her bits a-showin’.
“That’ll do,” she thought, fair pleased,
As her inbox was a-growin’.

Replies, they came in thick and fast,
Like waves of spurted spunk.
“Oh yes!” said she, excitedly,
“One must be my stud hunk!”

But quite bizarrely, the shy lass noted,
Some messages seemed confused.
She watched the subjects and their answers,
And grew more and more bemused.

“What sort of filling would you most prefer?”
“Are you cheesy, my dear? Take a bath!”
“Does the salsa flow free when you have your monthly?”
“Fucking hell, are you having a laugh?”

“Have you got sauce?” “I’m your Golden Wonder!”
“From Maris (not a Piper).”
“I’ll butter yours if you’ll butter mine…”
What?! She could not quite decipher.

Some men wanted to butter her sides,
And others loved her lady garden.
One thought that her bacon flaps were just great,
Making his “carbohydrate cock” harden!

“Good grief,” thought the shy lass,
“This becomes rather silly.
I just need a stud
With a fairly thick willy.”

She looked through the photos that some of them sent,
And she thought that a great lot of men
Had taken up gardening, considering their content…
Potatoes! A huge load of them!

“Well,” said the shy lass, “I’ve fair given up,
If this is the best men can do.
I’ll just stay a virgin, and lonely, I guess.”
PING! A final last message came through.

“Dear Shy Lass,” it started, “I like all your pics,
And I hope you don’t think I’m a dud.
But I’d love to meet up (I’ve a fairly thick dick),
Yours awaitingly, thank you, love Spud.”

The shy lass sat back, and she thought for a while,
Then she checked on her ad for hot studs…
“Oh my God, I’m a pillock,” the daft lass exclaimed,
“I sent out an advert for HOT SPUDS!”

Ah, dear readers, I’d love to tell you the end
Of this story of Shy and her ‘tater
(For Spud was a sweet man, and rather large-dicked),
But I’m sorry, it must wait for later.

For we can draw up a menu of sorts, I believe,
With the kind of meals we like to get,
But when all’s said and done (never mind a green thumb),
There’s a thing that I’m willing to bet.

When the right one for you sees your advertised goods,
Never mind what you said that you needed,
It’s the taking a chance on the whackiest one,
That could make your love life fair exceeded.

And now I must leave you with thoughts of thick cocks
And maybe some bacon flaps too,
For I’m hungry for dinner, potatoes, I need,
And I’m off to get chips. Some for you?

This poem only available on Lush Stories. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

This poem was inspired by Dirty Martini. All credit and blame should be directed towards him.