The Virgin
The Virgin
The virgin was the daughter of a retired surgeon
Who enjoyed imported beer and catching sturgeon.
At a seedy hotel with no blinds and garbage bags
For the provision of relief from the sun
They entered by the will of an old desk hag
With a hairy chin and breasts that would sadly sag.
Her father's disbelief as he circled the town.
In his car, no story about the library accepted,
He went through her wardrobe and suspected.
Still as he drove around and search the sky, the street,
The windows of restaurants, and the ground
His precious dirty little was nowhere to be found.
An advert in the newspaper, $200 in bills, a hungry tongue
And she emptied her bank account, the act was her will.
She wanted a stranger, not a nice boy who told her to lie still.
A monstrous walrus of hard flesh from the shower
Though she knew she was the one with the power
And she had appreciated his arrival upon the hour.
She found his instrument shocking to the senses
As she rubbed and 'polished' him back and forth
Cantankerous, red, and alarming in size.
The virgin soon realized the pleasures of her demise
She could hardly keep her speculation in disguise
Reminiscent of sharks out of the water
Ready to devour the girl, as was her wish.
Her father kept looking around
But as she screamed in pleasure,
He found she was nowhere to be found.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2013
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