'Sex appeal is 50% what you've got and 50% what people think you've got' - Sophia Loren, Baby keep a little 2 for me, Bed Knobs & Brass Tacks, Eeeeeeee by gum, Elsie and Jack, Eye yam what eye yam, Humour, Just like a car you're pleasing to behold, Love loves to love love - James Joyce, Man who wears tight pants shall always know where his focus is - Cloud Proverb, My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;Coral is far more red than her lips' red;And yet by heaven I think my love as rareAs any she belied with false compare.― William Shakespeare, Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary - Oscar Wilde, Pick out a pleasant outlook Stick out that noble chin Wipe off that full-of-doubt look Slap on a happy grin, poem, Poetry, Present Perfect, Sex is an emotion in motion.― Mae West, The bags under my eyes are Prada darling
At last the time had come, to bridge a vast and curious gap,
One thousand miles its span, two paramours parted by map.
They came across their one true love, by silvery screens’ fair light,
Virtual avatars hotly resplendent — and my, what glorious a sight!
Jack: Beaming urbane Adonis, beer-can muscles ripped so to impress,
Elsie: Rabid redhead Jessica Rabbit, bust battling in earnest to flee dress.
As weeks turned into months, all their quirks, fears and desires
Had endearment holding fast whilst fevered libidos moistened cries.
But as meeting day did loom in June, Elsie began to fear a farce,
Had Photoshop fakery fixed-up a face once akin to a wrestlers arse?
Jack too trod paths bestrewn with doubt: Would Hilda Ogden stand and wave?
An escape plan (Stan) might well be wise, for dignity to be saved.
Deception was the game both played: guilty traits the couple shared;
Gilt lilies paired, flawed features spared, in masks the two ensnared.
And so ‘twas ‘pon a summer’s eve, the lovers at last locked eyes,
With sun-drenched giggles of relief, they thrilled at what they spied.
He: Strutted some, flexed biceps, rumpy bum cheeks tight and firm;
She: Bambi-blinked, steep patent heels, duck pout and miniskirt squirm.
Sultry siren sighed: ‘God’s gift in a tin!’, her can-opener curves full of wiggles,
Tinned man: Erect as she wobbled, tent-pole hobbled, eliciting yet more giggles.
Post-mirth, whilst scoffing pre-coital scran, she eyed fake tan dripping slow,
With tangerine jets’ myriad rivulets, exposing his pale skin below.
Jack noticed crows feet spreading wide, and a rookery about her jowls,
Yet neither cared for mounting flaws — Oh! — enamoured more by vowels.
Passion restrained for eternities long, was no longer fettered or bound,
As back to Elsie’s gaff they sped, flung themselves upon carpeted ground.
Clutched clothing slid way down south, coy inhibitions disrobed in a beat;
Utterly flustered fake eyelashes flagged, one peeling away in the heat.
Now down to his bulging boxers, Elsie gawped at a prize-winning schlong;
But abashed at his stash, with a grin, in a flash, he whipped out a sock two-foot long.
As layers of camouflage fled to the floor, scars of old were merrily dismissed,
Two torsos’ stretch marks went unnoticed, cellulite lumps then gently kissed.
Dizzy digits grasped Heaven hard, as bouncing they jumped in the sack,
They’d waited forever and a day, ‘twud seem, to dive in and have a good crack . . .
. . . At loving in 3D delight at last, mitts free below board and above,
Bob Hoskins bobbed-up (Jack husky in lust): ‘Just watch me dodgy hip love.’
Cartoonish, her bra was stoutly packed: chicken fillets stuffed to the brim,
He cared not a jot, just ducked as they flew, then threw a maniacal grin.
His Newman-blue contacts went askew mid-plunge, result: teary balls (oh aye!),
So he expunged his lunge to pop them both out, donning bottle-top glasses, all shy.
‘Holy Moses!’ he cried as she bellowed sweet nothings (hearing aid on the blink);
‘Load the bean canon up,’ she boomed in his face, ‘fire me over the kitchen sink!’
Laughing with force at her fierce command, Jack’s loins then gave dear thanks,
So, mirthful (yet with reprimands), he stonkingly spanked her Spanx.
The guffaws bust his back: A brace in peril! So she loosed the strings with a grunt;
His stomach it grew: Nine inches gone feral. Thought she, ‘He’s sure got some front!’
Unfettered Jack tugged with Herculean might, support tights well clear of her feet;
As Elsie opined with legs now entwined, ‘Spray-on chest hair all over me sheets!’
Unclasping the harness that hoisted his buttocks, so lofty and high in the sky,
She gamely caught cheeks on the downswing, as Jack kissed his bum lies goodbye.
Her fake Croydon Facelift then lost its grip: a bust clip midst enthusiasm;
He didn’t notice and she didn’t care — on the verge of her fourth orgasm.
Face-sucking fury in a fevered rhythm: Elsie’s tongue beat Jacks gums like a mallet;
‘Pon taking a breath when lips parted though, twixt her teeth was an NHS palate!
Boasting seven bright pegs bold as brass; clamped in lippy lips grip they did gleam:
With unfurnished gums on parade (oh, the shame!) Jack let out a desolate scream.
Her silence reigned regal; the air it stood still, as he howled and began to cry;
Then she spat out his teeth, shrugged with a nod, and deftly popped out her eye.
Jumping for joy he kissed love-handled hips, saggy tits flung o’er his shoulders;
Elsie gave a wink then tickled his balls pink: two humongous knee-length boulders.
Hanky-panky was rife through the night, ‘til conked-out at last they did snore;
Flat on their backs (naughty bits now relaxed), they caught forty-winks (or more).
At dawn’s murderous light such a scene was revealed; eyes adjusting to the glare:
Two Golem-like creatures, bared gums and a squint, their faces so full of care.
They’d travelled from fear to eternity — bashful worlds up to heavens above;
Though time stamps its tales ‘pon old hides, my dears, life ever remains, in love,
So dispel fears of shame and doubt good folks, for if true love is meant to be,
No masks need be donned, no veils of deceit . . . the truth will always set you free.