Gastro Porn

She laid her head right down upon her purple satin sheets,
He paused for long enough to leave his plate of pickled beets,
Oh Trevor, come and service me, come here and be my man,
But Trevor said, A minute, Love, I'll be there when I can!

Oh lay that sandwich on the shelf, put down your pickled egg,
I want to feel your manly arms and rub your manly peg!
Hold still, My Love, hold still, hold still, I'm on my way right over,
Once I've had my sole and chips that came from distant Dover!

Oh sod your chips and Dover sole, oh sod your bread and dripping,
I want a torrid manly fuck with tying-up and whipping,
His eyes went bright, his interest soared, he said, You are my dream,
Let's take us to the kitchen, Love, and whip us up some cream!

Very Tasty

The foodie fantasies alluded to in the poem couldn't be described either as the heights of gastronomy, or the depths of depravity. In fact, it's all very English - fish and chips, whips and whipped cream.


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Max Scratchmann

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