Nothing but Bawdy and Naughty Limericks

Both Jack and Jill were from Timbuktu. Jack said, “I’m up for three…how about you?” Jill said, “A third sounds good. I would, if we could, both agree on Stan Stanley, not Sue. Jill loved missionary position. Jack, on top, just loved lover’s friction. When given a quiz, both said, “The best is, the sixty-nine juxtaposition.” Jill loved the zenith of intercourse … and Jack’s penis was her “go-to” source. Jill, the apex of sex, with Jack under her hex, in bed, Jill was on top of Jack, of course! Jack’s python was mesmerizing. Jill said, “It is quite tantalizing.” Jill mounted the snake and didn’t need to fake. Jill said ,“Promise me! No downsizing!” Jack entered his first jack-off contest. He won the blue ribbon, as the best. Jack was first to arrive, using his fluid drive. Jill, his trainer, never let him rest Jack was the state fair champ in curling. Jill, with her curls, took first, in twirling. When they got together, Jill allowed Jack to nail her… and soon, Jill dropped twirling for purling. Jill was holding Jack’s dick, in her hut. Jack wanted more…Jill said, “I’m no slut.” Jack said in pretext, “Jill, what I want next is to put my slime in your coconut.” For Jack, there was no more “up-the-hill” … and no more dickie-dunkin’ with Jill. Jill went to college for carnal knowledge and humped…to pay her tuition bill. Jack seduced Jill in his Land Rover, to “Roll Me Over in the Clover.” Jill smiled up at him, and grabbed Jack’s “Slim Jim”. Jill stayed down…and Jack gladly drove her. Jack is the hunk who plows and trims trees. Jill said to Jack, “Will you plow me? Please? And then trim my bush? And caress my tush?” Jack said, “I will…begin your striptease. When his ex-wife drove into the ocean, Jack felt an unexpected emotion. He thought "I’ll miss my old Jag, but not Jill, the old nag… tho’ she died like poetry in motion. Jill’s divorce lawyer went for that ride, because Jill said, “I’ll pay you on the side.” Well…he did not get laid. The mortician got paid… and those two went to Hell, to be fried. Jill lost her precious virginity, in what her friend Jack, called the “Trinity.” A ménage-a-trois’, inside, near the spa, where Jill found she also lost…her dignity. Jill was lighter than a goose feather. Jack worshiped her…when she wore leather. Jack called Jill: “Titanic”. Jill called Jack: “Satanic”. That said, they went down on each other. Intercourse without foreplay is crude. It’s lascivious, lustful and lewd. Jill said, “Please slow down, Jack. You act like you are on crack.” Jack asked, “When did you become a prude?” The limericks above, are the last using Jack and Jill, in this chapter… “Getting laid every day is a must,” Clem said, “If I don’t, my dick will rust.” Wanda, a local witch, made Clem’s broomstick twitch, “witch” is why dear Clem had Wandalust. “Yesterday, the word was the noun, ‘knave’. Today’s word is ‘frugal’…meaning ‘to save’. Bill, use ‘frugal’ please,” Jane said, only to tease, “Frugal me, frugal me, I'm in the cave.” Teacher: “‘Incorrect’ is our word of the day. Now, please use it in a sentence…Jay.” Student: “When in deep enough, and in long enough, it’s in…correct”, was all Jay had to say. On last Mother’s Day, way back in May, Hank heard, “Honey Bear, please not today and please not tonight.” Hank asked, "What is my plight?” She said, "There’s the night of Father’s Day”. She was upper crust, with her own trust. “I must get laid quickly or I’ll rust.” He thought, while stripping, “a pussy whipping?”. Then her pelvis went in auto thrust. How does one get into a fox hole? The best way is to get a long pole. Then lift-up its tail. Next…get ready to bail, should you fail, to make safe sex your goal. Phil was a philandering panda bear, who dared to enter a lady bear’s lair, while in a mating mood. But she had her own brood, and she gave Phil her “Don’t you dare” stare. Hank diddled Little Bo Peep at noon. Little Miss Muffet asked, “My turn soon?” Hank sheepishly said, “If you give me head, I’ll diddle you under a full moon”. Yes, Quinn, was “Quinn the Eskimo” whose stamina was only so-so. Blue pills for his quill allowed him to drill with the strength of six sled dogs in snow. What can you do that will prime her pump, so, she will want to begin to hump? Get her on top. She’ll never want to stop, once you place your stump inside her rump. Did you all know Glen (and Gwen), his twin? They were born with alabaster skin. Glen, the quite quiet monk said, "Gwen, look at my junk!”, then they shared in an identical sin. Casanova once said, not in jest, “How could I deny a request? Milk maids and kin folk, they all love a poke. Vice is nice, but incest is best.” His bad breath was like puke on the floor. It knocked a buzzard from the shit house door. In his defense, he spoke common sense. “Bad breath is better than no breath at all.” Quinn almost bagged himself a deer. He wrecked his car; that was clear. His sphincter did dance… and he shit his pants, but the cop wasn’t buying, “just one beer”. When I move my bowels, it’s like shrapnel… so forceful, it will chip enamel. Then I use the bidet, to power wash away, all the shit inside the urinal. Lunch was an amalgam of pablum and prunes…which made Steve’s sphincter go numb. His bowels moved loudly and Steve said “Allow me to show you what became of the plum.” Watch…I’ll show you how to light a fart; it’s mostly science, mixed with some art. Flatulence is methane, which turns into a flame… and that, my friends, is the science part. Jeff squatted down in Scotland’s heather, and created steam in cold weather. I kid thee not a whit, the aroma was shit…(and) June barfed on her kilt, made of leather. It was fifty yards to the latrines… and the trip was made by two Marines, shouting “It’s shit or die”, followed by “Semper Fi”, while the slower grunts shit in their jeans. The Old Museum of False Starts, featured frat boys lighting each other’s farts. Farts are merely methane, which can drive you insane. But they’re classified as performing arts. I’m at the age where I dare not fart… and taming the sphincter is an art. If I fail, it’s a shame… upon me falls the blame, for being a pig at the chili cart. “Cheers”, in Boston, was a quaint bar room, where beer and pretzels smelled like perfume. Cliff and Norm consumed carbs and hurled harpoons and barbs. But when Norm passed his gas…BA-ROOM. He’s known as “Thee Donald”, as in Trump. Yesterday, he longed to take a dump. He stuck a stick up his ass, trying to dislodge the mass. Why? He must dump before he can hump. This marks the end the defecation and flatulence limericks… next are the urination limericks… Jack was a young camper from Oak Creek, who snuck outside for an urgent leak. He fell on a rock and injured his cock. and for a dime, Jill sold a sneak peek. I’m tired of waking up at three, when I do not even have to pee. Should I give Sue a poke, like some horny bloke? No! Not unless I crave some surgery!