Thursday, 2 September 2010

Le Tourists

The clichéd Americans got the last two
Tickets on Eurostar 17.55 to
Gare de Nord;
Mr Big called his daddy to say
They’d made it and were on their
European guidebook journey

He promised dad he’d call from the hotel
When they’d eaten their escargots
and frogs legs
In an overpriced bistro
And after tarte au citron and decaf coffees
They’d make it up la tour Eiffel in their
Abercrombie armour and take
Pics to send via iPhone to their
Dumb friends who couldn’t spare
A thought of even leaving State soil to traipse
Around filthy rues of pet shit and beercans
Note: Nothing like clean Cali

Big’s girl, of course,
Followed him here
(She’s three years younger and smells
Like a perfume store)
So he’d fuck her in a hotel
With shared hallway bathrooms
Where they defecate and piss out
All the rich food and wine, water and coffee

Under impressions and influence of culture française
She gives in to the almighty
Go ahead
To let him put it where
She’s been told
It is a sin
And not worth hell or the blood

Pulling off her jeans and panties she’s had on for one
And a half days
BIG loosens his designer belt
And they fumble in the end zone
With some massaged KY
He pops straight
Into her asshole
And they both wince
(she thinks this is like taking a shit backwards)
He pulls out and goes again
A familiar sexual moan emanates
Which makes him get into it and usually
He’d be almost finished by now but
That is not the case
(It must be the polluted air)
This new and soulful experience let’s him
Have second wind and a chance to speed up
And her fingers rub at her clit
It’s the first proper genital joy in her 20
Years of manual and missionary school taught
Bible sex and their orgasms
Synchronise and like train and track
Minutes and seconds
The countdown to his sperm
Leaving his ballsack
Her enlarged clit and virgin ass loose and wet
They cum and on the bed they lay
Listening to the bustle and carhorns

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