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!
© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
