U and I - Nicholson Baker

813

He came from the hills of Kentuky

Whistling, and feeling quite fucky

Meant a big titted, young lass

Up and presented her ass

Pet the lion—and don’t worry, it doesn’t bite!

There once was a woman whose finger

Loved to search and hunt and poke and peck and linger

In spots where, it’s said

You could find yourself dead

If you outpoked some limp hubby’s stinger.

I’ve lost the thread

Sure coffee

Own hand

Fast orgasm or slow orgasm?

I’ll take the sweat lodge.

Swimming or jogging?

Hardwood,

Drapes or carpet?

Her legs tilted open, wider and wider

One hand palpated her, the other himself.

I'm addicted to kissing a beaver

With my tongue I'm an orgasm achiever

Its prehensile skill

Always gives her a thrill

And makes her a bona fide believer

Of the twat it just always be said

Not yet.

When was the last time you orgasmed?

Her pussy was hot and in need

She was all set to do the deed

With her skirt hiked up

She was raring to shtup

Brussels

Nipples or buttocks?

With each new lick she shook harder and harder until she came

One hand in the moist dark fold

TGV

Lobster or salmon?

Happy

Place

A sweet, sexy lady from Down Under

When orgasmic was vocal as thunder

Plus her pussy would rain

And blow gusts o’er the plain

A pretty young girl from Duluth

Got a pubic hair stuck on her tooth

And now, to Delhi a trip

To taste many a sweet nether lip

Seeking my prize

To try on for size

And should one fit, oh my God, what a trip

If you happen to travel to Monaco

Robbin’ Peter to pay Paul is a way of life.

And now, to Delhi a trip

To taste many a sweet nether lip

There was a young woman whose v-jay

Would always welcome a three-way

And likewise her tits

Would often be splits

As she busied herself with a b-j.

If you go to the city of Nice

She lounged by the pool in the nude

And drew many a tumescent dude

As she worked on her tan

She turned to her lover, Jan

And with her tongue, she incurred gratitude

There was a young woman whose v-jay

She lounged by the pool in the nude

And drew many a tumescent dude

Waiting, tender flesh

Open at the dark center

The warm, sweet crevasse

There was a young Plonker whose schlong

Was so hard he could use it to bong a gong

But one day it crumpled