SKЯ3WBALLED: Guilty Pleasure....

Thursday, 11 June 2020

I'm guilty and it's always a pleasure,

Stuck indoors, sweating the weather.

Minted, always, a man of wealth,

My habits and pleasures have never been stealth.

I had gold plated ching, and whores on tap,

Quick booty calls and sometimes the clap.

Drugs, booze, Armani styled suits,

Italian leather shoes, platinum DM boots.

I have it all, houses all round,

Aston Martins with top surround sound.

Top speed beasts, I wreck cars without care,

Brush off the glass, smile back at stares.

Pull out some notes, and pay off the peeps,

Surprised what folks forget, for a few sheets.

But all this sprinkle is normal life,

My real guilty secret, I keep from my wife.

I wait downstairs, in the marble piped hall,

Blow her a kiss, and say that I'll call.

Watch as she walks off, picks out a car,

I stand on the steps, make sure she's out far.

Then I strip off my clothes, and pull out my cock,

Lay in the garden, right by the dock.

The boats swim past, Richmond river a few,

I always make sure, the ladies get a good view.

Cover my nads, with honey so sweet,

And rap off a knuckle, right to the beat.

I let all the passengers, get a good view,

Slapping the monkey, a tickle or few.

The grannies all take pictures, and flashing snaps,

But my face is covered, with my wives face on mask.

My chest isn't hairy, it's got fake tits,

I rub my nips, and flick my bits.

All the old ladies, are turned on for sure,

As I shoot my load, I get a loud roar!

SKЯ3WBALLED