Poor Johnny was cursed with a schlong
That stayed hard all Saturday long.
But he kept that thing humming
As the women kept coming,
After twelve he was still going strong!
I dream of Redheads, blondes, and brunettes
Hair color from a bottle; regrets
To find out what's true
there's but one thing to do
get them to drop their panties, yes, let's
There was a lady from Hickory Flat
A magician of particular éclat
Her shows were quite lewd
For she performed them all nude
And pulled a rabbit out of her twat
I played hide and seek with her clit
I pulled back her hood—just a bit
She looked down in shock at her bulging girl-cock
Then I sucked her off lickety-split.
She said that I was quite a sneak
When I poked in-between her rear cheeks
I forgot all the jelly—I thrust in near her belly
She swore she was sore for a week!
An artform where rare few longer dote
the limerick hath become quite 'bespoke'
then some will chime in
and I think with a grin
how I love when this thread doth explode
The contest girls weren’t wearing clothes
They were blushing all nice shades of rose
The judges sniffed bush—and inhaled each tush
The winning girl won by a nose.
My mother's friend thought she was old
And her sex life was surely on hold
But one day she shivered
And wiggled and quivered
And not just because it was cold
My new secretary’s really a pip
When I told her she needed to strip:
“Oh but sir: I’m a prude
Must I really work nude?!”
So I lifted her skirt to her hip.
There once hailed a man from Cork
Who loved beef, chicken, and pork
He was kicked out of the diners
For scaring waitstaff and minors
As he always used his c*ck as a fork
A limerick can be made just fine
If you adjust your meter and rhyme
with two in the middle
other three make the riddle
the last one provides the punch line
yes, for limericks i do have a thing
I adore the rhyming, the ring
of words so well chose
and worked into prose
for no purpose but to make our hearts sing
Onehitwanda was a nautical maven
Whose harbor was oft called a haven
To her port men would sail
But their quest they would fail
For it's only the wenches she's cravin'
Emily and Wanda le tour de force,
minions of Eros and Pythos, of course,
When entwined, my god,
mere mortals are awed,
their skills on display, contain no remorse
A limerick's punderous trait,
Is its words leave some readers irate.
They don't like its rhymes,
Or its humor at times,
So, ignominy is often its fate.
My life changed the day I met Judy,
Possessed of the most marvelous booty.
I said, "What a peach!"
But soon Judy did teach,
That respecting her ass was my duty.
A limerick, one night at a pub,
Met a sonnet across the hubbub.
"Hey girl," he said sweetly,
"Our rhymes don't fit neatly,
"But variety's the spice, that's the rub."
Once, a talented seamstress took ill
For her daughters she drafted a will
The girls said "Don't fret
For you will see yet
The holes in our pants pay the bills."
There once was a lass who wore glasses
and loved facials; thick as molasses.
She relished the feel,
and giggled with zeal
as warm, sticky goo came in splashes
I may also post this one elsewhere, because limericks have shown up lately in another thread.
To her lover, the lady said, “Guido,
“You’ve satisfied my wild libido.
“Now to clean up my quim,
“We could go for a swim,
“But you’d never fit that in a Speedo.”