Tuesday 5 June 2012

Lay Grouter - Nine Outmost Stretched

The Vixen (a woman of remarkable looks)
Remarked to the looks of our Grouter
That her house was a house of respectable folk
Not a house for a thrusting young shouter

‘A shouter moreover,’ the Vixen averred
‘For whose lusts we must charge as deranged
Would put us to counting (for we charge by the hour)
And we possess not the coins to make change.’

Her patrons, said Vixen, were elderly gents
Who paid well to engage in invasion
Of those in her house in voluminous slips
Rarely so coarse as to rise to the occasion

They would fumble and thimble at bows and at stays
Until by corsets and girdles defeated
See their hour run dry as they fought at such layers
Until exhausted, their ardour depleted

Then happily home with a spring in their step
To mansion and palace they’d wend
Content that indeed they were manly men
Whilst no guilt there upon them attend

‘Why,’ swore the Vixen with hand on her heart
‘In all the years I have serve their predation
‘Not a one that has paid to sample our wares
‘Has ever suffered to regret penetration’

Princes and bishops, bankers and lords
Crossed nations to sample her whores
Yet not a one on completion, and on the way home
Could be accused of reaching their drawers

The den of the Vixen was a reputable house
That serviced by menu aberration
And not a one of those fine men that came through the door
Ever feared for their lofty reputation

Grouter he stamped, and he wailed, and swore
To this meal with knife and with fork
He had come with a plate far bigger than most
Towards which he would go off like a cork

‘Is it too much,’ our Grouter would know
That he might with his butter find toast?
It wouldn’t take long, but a minute or two
Even undressing then three at the most

‘A woman, a woman,’ Grouter demanded
Fat, thin, curly, alive, dead; I’m not picky
As long as she’s willing (and prepared most of all)
Having been once upright, then shortly then sticky’

‘A woman?’ said Vixen, her heart sadly touched
By his plight, for she too was a mother
‘If a woman you want or such as resembles
You had best skip along to another’

For in the dark rooms where her gentlemen came
To dig at the layers and the smother
All they would find if ever they won
Would be girdled and tied - one another

‘Who you need is the Princess,’ the Vixen suggested
‘But be warned if you wish to inflame
Her passions for prickling at your sordid needs
Lie in celebrity, fiction and fame’

The Princess? thought Grouter, smoothing his hair
Indeed why not aim for the best?
For breeding, for riches, for long golden hair
And with luck quite a lot in the chest

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