Based on Sweden 1962
Inger Berggren — Sol och vår
He asks if I’m sure it’ll fit down there
I tell him he can stick it anywhere
He says not his place though, he lives with mum
And really that’s no place to bum
His dirty pictures on my mobile screen
Concealed he’d rather keep his bedsheets clean
If only there were someplace in between
I guess I’ll flick my own damn bean
“Can you accommodate?”
Is what they always say
They’ve all got reasons why they pass
I can sit on his face
But not his brand new chaise
In case I’ve got a leaky arse
You’re thinking, “Inger, why not your place then?
For getting fingered by parades of men?”
Well I would say it’s plenty, is it not
To let them in my honeypot?
I’ve had whole armies storm my hinterlands
Tie me in knots and stuff my mouth with pants
Positions that would make a pornstar blush
But once they cum, they all must rush
“Can’t you accommodate?”
That’s what they always say
And it’s a big wet load of parp
Finger me till it gapes
But fingers off his drapes
He tells me just stay on the tarp
First conversation, hopes of real romance
Until he sends a close-up of his glans
Asks would I mind doing him and his eight friends
Not one can host but they’ll attend
“My floor’s too slippery, it’s just been waxed”
So has my taint, I guess our plans are axed
“My wife might come home, but plan number 2
I know a skip where we can screw"
Why can’t men open up?
I won’t piss on the rug
Just in their face, over the bath
But who needs walls and floors?
I’ll take my fun outdoors
It’s back to dogging at the park