Priapus, god of sex
With throbbing sword-like groin,
You mesmerize and vex
My mind, and then my loin.
As she would not take your lance,
You turned Lotis to a plant.
But never did you chance
To rip me from my pants.
Why chase a maid so chaste?
I’d give my humble soul,
For you to get a taste
Of my pink and puckered *lips*
So now you stand erect
By pillars: flesh and stone.
With no one to inject;
No bottom made to moan.
On Hera, took a pass:
You couldn’t beat an ass
That brayed loud and, alas,
You softened ‘fore the lass.
You’ve struggled to get hard.
Some boys would be fussy,
Yet I’d not ever guard
My warm and open *heart*
Raised by farming mortals,
Some real rough trade, and how!
But more than just crop circles
I want to see you plow.
Pound me by the polis,
Use me in my domos,
Slide my thong off with slowness,
And slay me like you’re Cronus.
And may your member spray
Inside me, hard as rock.
I cannot help but pray
To ride your twelve-inch *personality*
