It just got festive up in here, y’all! 6

Some of my friends made the mistake of entrusting me to write them limericks as Christmas presents. Once I started writing them, it became obvious that they were all going to be really slutty limericks because sharing is the point of Christmas and who embraces the spirit of giving more than sluts? NOBODY. So, here they are. Please realize that me turning you into a rhyming nymphomaniac is the highest praise I can offer you. Without further ado:


I once knew a poet named Jim,
who seduced young ladies at whim.
One stroke of his pen,
and you’d hear an “Amen!”
His prose made girls dance in their skin.


I once knew a fellow named Wayne.
With women, he could not abstain.
Now he’s fathered a son,
but still knows how to have fun,
as master of his own domain.


My friend Colin’s an engineer,
whose politeness made him austere.
But when quoting The Bard,
you’d drop more than your guard,
and find that you need a pap smear.


I once knew a lady named Doff,
whose writing always got me off.
No tongue was as sweet,
be it paper or sheet
than Jodi’s, my brilliant sex Prof.


I once knew a girl from PA,
whose taste in men was…okay.
She deserved so much more
than prepubescent bores.
Alas, I could not turn her gay.

With Young, I could surely attest
that he was quite fond of a jest.
Sure, he liked the ladies
who drove in Mercedes,
but monkeys were what he liked best.


I once knew a pundit named Neil,
whose politics had much appeal.
He said, “Not to sound droll
but you might like this poll!”
Now THAT is a stimulus deal.


Since Ammie’s as sweet as can be,
you’d never guess she dated three!
She juggles all balls,
never falters or falls,
and with time left to bake you some brie.


I once knew a boy from the Bay,
who kissed every girl he could sway.
He said, “Please don’t panic!
I’m just nymphomanic,
and SF’s a dating buffet.”


I once knew a gal named Louise,
who was a notorious tease.
She made all girls in Skokie
say, “Well, okie dokie!”
But her girlfriend wasn’t as pleased.


Randall made films quite sublime,
(Not the kind you could broadcast online).
Though we still haven’t met,
I would place all my bets,
that he’d show me a reel good time.


There’s nobody quite like my mother
She’s wise and she never does smother.
Most moms would near balk
At descriptions of cock,
But not her, for she is like no other!

(I’m sorry, Mom)

Merry Christmas! If you want to return the favor, you can write your own dirty limericks in the comments. Or you could contract syphilis. It’s up to you.

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