There once was a writer of erotica /
whose own life was not a like a lot of ya. /
She would write it all day /
but come time to go play /
she couldn’t quite “bare” the thought of ya.
There once was a writer of erotica /
whose own life was not a like a lot of ya. /
She would write it all day /
but come time to go play /
she couldn’t quite “bare” the thought of ya.
Filed under 2015, Monday morning writing joke
Booker's Blog 
There was a young sheik I’m not namin’
Asked a young damsel he thought he was tamin’
“Have you your maidenhead?”
“Of course not!” she said,
“But I still have the box that it came in!”