Thursday, October 20, 2005

Used To Be A Man


I used to be a man, the handsome lady said,
But now I mostly got no tool except what I can grab.
I walk around in high heel shoes and teeter
While the boys check out how I protrude
(Provocatively, of course, in bikini bra and panties
And never show a sign of masculinity.)

I used to be a man full-dressed, but now
I keep what hair is left beneath my pretty wig
And keep my shape more steadfastly than my virtue or my word
And struggle not with conscience but just to keep
My flaccid prong pressed flat inside my skin-tight pants
And sell it so none of my boys can tell it!

Here, what's the matter, don't you like
My brand-new basketball breasts?
Real girls buy them, too, and at the same place—
But maybe you don't like that, either. Pervert!

And, yes, I do my best
Down on my knees in dreams
To peel whatever soft banana comes my way
That soon gets hard and creams.
So I make a little money as I go and I make my way.

These things, they make me want to just
Jack off like crazy in public, sometimes,
Then I remember I'm a lady and I can't—
But, hell, this guy I'm with could care less,
He just stands and touts—

He flouts the world’s opinion and flaunts
That delicious dangling organ of distress
Right in my pretty face
And reels it out at great and greater length
Till I take a taste of that trout!

"Here, bitch!" he pouts (they like to pretend)
While I rub my lips up and down that trophy knob
And vibrate my tongue on the underside, slurping
Like his favorite slut that oh-so-tender chicken-skin!

Then he grins as big as any rooster rogue in town
While I close my lips around it
And teethe on it hard till it spouts!
These men are so disgusting!


3rd draft: 02/24/03
©2001 Ronald C. Southern

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)