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My intention was not chivalrous, It was entirely amorous, So by letting you pass, My intention was to look at your *** And so… You gave me a show. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! And now that I reflect, I realize it was the object, Of something near perfect, When I pulled away I nearly wrecked, All because I was rubbernecked. Even your thighs, Gave me highs, They gave me sighs. So what is chivalry? It’s men letting you pass, Only to look at your *** And you don’t sass, Because chivalry Is not rivalry. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! We hold the door, At the store, You’re the decor. We stare at your *** And we let you pass. You jog across the street, My eyes aren’t discrete, They just watch your *** As you jog pass, Your round **** Perfect and plump. Tightly wound in those gray pants But I stare and I don’t just glance, Your *** is what I desire, Your *** is what I admire, Your *** is what I’m chivalrous – for, Your *** is what I’m amorous – for.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Jogging Girl
My intention was not chivalrous, It was entirely amorous, So by letting you pass, My intention was to look at your *** And so… You gave me a show. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! And now that I reflect, I realize it was the object, Of something near perfect, When I pulled away I nearly wrecked, All because I was rubbernecked. Even your thighs, Gave me highs, They gave me sighs. So what is chivalry? It’s men letting you pass, Only to look at your *** And you don’t sass, Because chivalry Is not rivalry. And what an *** – it was. As I let you pass – it does. Some things to me. I slap my knee And I say: Oh Boy! Such a joy! We hold the door, At the store, You’re the decor. We stare at your *** And we let you pass. You jog across the street, My eyes aren’t discrete, They just watch your *** As you jog pass, Your round **** Perfect and plump. Tightly wound in those gray pants But I stare and I don’t just glance, Your *** is what I desire, Your *** is what I admire, Your *** is what I’m chivalrous – for, Your *** is what I’m amorous – for.
December 19, 2012
#rhyme#slant
steven-dorsay-childs
Written by
steven-dorsay-childs
American
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
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