Porn Obsession

Stan had a secret,

Some would call it a sin.

He liked seeing women,

Wearing only their skin.

It started long ago,

He was looking for a toy.

When he found some magazines,

The title – Playboy

Then he started a collection

A drive to possess,

All things that were porn,

He’d begun to obsess.

He found that big breasts,

Were the most compellin’,

He began to be drawn

To things shaped like a melon.

Then came the internet,

And all hope was lost.

He joined every porn site,

Regardless of cost.

This new form of media,

Brought him things that were new.

Leather beauties having sex

With thing that went moo.

There were men on more men

And Asian cartoons

And sluts from the streets

Blowing hairy baboons.

There were sex toys and videos

And things for your butt

And homemade erotica

Like two girls and a cup

Stan loved every bit

Since the young age of eight

When he found his dad’s stash

And learned to masturbate

Now he’s grown old

His sex drive is o nil

Though still playing with his erection

Thanks to a little blue pill

Bathroom Inequality

Have you ever seen,

A woman’s commode?

The kind that is public - Not at your abode

It happened to me,

By accident one day.

I strolled right on in – to my surprise I must say.

I knew right away,

That something was amiss.

The floor wasn’t sticky – it didn’t smell like piss.

There was a couch and some chairs

And paint on the walls.

The air was perfumed – doors hung on the stalls.

I was there but a moment,

Yet got a look about.

Then women glared at me angrily – as I slowly backed out.

I located my bathroom,

It was four steps to the right.

As I entered the room – my sphincter shut up tight.

How could I go back,

Given where I had been.

From the bathroom of angels – to the devil’s trash bin.

It smelled worse than it looked,

Though I know not how that could be.

I took a cautious step in – and slipped on some pee.

I fell to my back,

And as I lay on the floor,

I could three stalls down – where there was poop on the door.

The worse part of all,

Were the sounds I could hear.

There were groans and some farts – And someone upchucking a beer.

With considerable effort,

I got unstuck from the floor.

I’d seen the unfairness – I couldn’t take it any more.

I marched back over,

To the room painted pink.

I dropped down my trousers – and took a dump in their sink.

Now I have time to consider,

How I will make bail.

Cause there ain’t nothing worse – than the toilets in jail

Fire Gazing

I get home from work

And right away it starts;

Family Guy on T.V. – a show filled with farts.

The wife knows by now

To give me some time;

The first half hour at home – is time that is mine.

They say this has come

From days long ago;

When we came back to camp - with arrow and bow.

After a long day of hunting

We needed a break;

We’d stare at the fire - while the wife cooked the steak.

So now we come home

And the wife wants to talk;

But she give us our time – and we sit like a rock.

She knows that in time

We’ll come out of our shell;

Best we not take advantage – or she’ll make our life hell.

“Take your half hour,

Then pay me some mind;”

Then later tonight - I’ll not be unkind.”