POLL #2 - Official - Writing Contest
- Thread starter THE KOD
- Start date
ODE TO SELF GRATIFICATION
Watching the big game, sipping some booze
In strolls your escort with a freshly shaved cooze.
?Not now,? you say, I?ve got the Nets for a nickel.
She retreats to the kitchen and heats up a pickle.
Phone rings. It?s Michael J, a grunt and a welp.
It?s obvious that this dude needs serious help.
?I can?t stop!? screams he. My staff needs some rubbin?.
My wife went out, perfumed, for a full night of clubbin?.
He takes out the Nivea and slaps it on thick,
Proceeding to pull it, first slow, then quite quick.
You call up the doctor and get him committed.
Masturbatory Clinic. Where the straitjacket?s fitted.
An unmarked van arrives and takes him away.
?You?ll learn to not touch it. Cease and obey!?
His room is small, but a cot and a rug.
Good thing he smuggled in that vibrating butt plug.
Dr. Toy saunters in with a clipboard and glasses.
?You?re the worst masturbator among all the masses.?
?The symptoms are clear, your member is wet.
You spend too much time at teenass dot net.?
They lock him up tight with no kleenex or lotion,
Eventually he?s allowed some limited motion.
They wheel him around, among lecherous codgers.
He likes the late game, Sox versus Dodgers.
There?s TV and music and he dances the conga,
Mike screams at the top of his lungs: CHUBB-A-BONGA!
?Your condition is chronic,? Toy says with a sigh,
You?re destined to whack it a lot, it?s no lie.
He writes a prescription on a small Rx pad.
There?s hair on your palms and you?re already mad.
Watching the big game, sipping some booze
In strolls your escort with a freshly shaved cooze.
?Not now,? you say, I?ve got the Nets for a nickel.
She retreats to the kitchen and heats up a pickle.
Phone rings. It?s Michael J, a grunt and a welp.
It?s obvious that this dude needs serious help.
?I can?t stop!? screams he. My staff needs some rubbin?.
My wife went out, perfumed, for a full night of clubbin?.
He takes out the Nivea and slaps it on thick,
Proceeding to pull it, first slow, then quite quick.
You call up the doctor and get him committed.
Masturbatory Clinic. Where the straitjacket?s fitted.
An unmarked van arrives and takes him away.
?You?ll learn to not touch it. Cease and obey!?
His room is small, but a cot and a rug.
Good thing he smuggled in that vibrating butt plug.
Dr. Toy saunters in with a clipboard and glasses.
?You?re the worst masturbator among all the masses.?
?The symptoms are clear, your member is wet.
You spend too much time at teenass dot net.?
They lock him up tight with no kleenex or lotion,
Eventually he?s allowed some limited motion.
They wheel him around, among lecherous codgers.
He likes the late game, Sox versus Dodgers.
There?s TV and music and he dances the conga,
Mike screams at the top of his lungs: CHUBB-A-BONGA!
?Your condition is chronic,? Toy says with a sigh,
You?re destined to whack it a lot, it?s no lie.
He writes a prescription on a small Rx pad.
There?s hair on your palms and you?re already mad.
