Face Fuck Book # 45—Lotte

Face Fuck Book # 45—Lotte

Looking for Lotte
Ah, I've found her
Not so far from where
With great regret
She made a wreck
Of what I thought
       was a sweet start?
I now recall her
       as a sour fart
Not that there was anything
       unclean
But her memory lingers on
       like rancid cheese
Or a fish smell
       that fills the kitchen
       for days and will not go away
       wash the sink, take out the trash
       throw Clorox down the drain
       mop the floor still again
You can detect the funerary aspect
I'm sure someone makes
       a perfume for corpses, heck
Not a bottle you'd give to a Valentine
       but there is a need so fine
       when the smell of death lingers
       on one's fingers...  
But back to Lotte, cum and gone

It was a time of break-up
My great love departed
I was destroyed
Lotte, as I, were students in a class
She was a Belgium lass
 As Belgium as a dish of
        ocean muscles and onions
        quaff with Flemish Red beer
I though she might refresh my year
So disastrous and queer
Sad events unrelenting
I invited her to a family tenting
Uncles and Aunts on the lawn
Like mushrooms grown from devil's spawn
All familiar remarks were negative
"She's not young, too old
Too tame, not bold
From the old country?
Someone should set her free!
Her, where did you find?
She's got a big behind!
Good Grief, she looks like a side of beef"
After all this family chatter disaster
I realized I'd chosen an Aster
       instead of a Rose
Heaven knows, she was no beauty
       of medium height and greater width
       broad of shoulders, small breast
       skin of rosy blotches
       as if recovered from the pest
Dressed in style for the 19th century
Perhaps ideal garb to visit a penitentiary
And yet perhaps the perfect companion
To help me work a pig farm
A fantasy I there after embalmed
I took her home to her apartment
       and to my surprise
       kisses led to petting
       nudity begetting
       the simple facts...
She shed her cloths like hot wax
Wide hips and delicate red-brown pubic hair
Proof that men should never despair
I entered with a little urg'in
She was not a virgin
Having no condom handy
I made the best of it,
Then exited like John Handy
Just on time, a little Jazz, on the upbeat
       but jiz all over the sofa seat
She made no fuss
Washed me off in time
Said it was fine
As if an experienced libertine
Kissed me goodnight
Everything seemed right
My seed I'd spent
Happy and content
Called her the next day
Invited her to a play
Which she acceded
Purchased tickets as needed
Came several days later
       with great expectation
       of evening relaxation
Entered the vestibule
       of the apartment building
There on the wall, in view of all
An epistle addressed to me
The gist of the note in exactitude
        she'd scrolled an epistle rude
 "She was no longer avail to have sex with me if that was all I wanted...."
I rang her button in vain
       to protest her defame
Seeking explanation of my blame
I was here for the theater
       a comedy or a drama, who can recall?
       not the theater of the absurd at all
I rang again, but no response from Lotte
I was hurt
      for the lifting of her skirt?
All she had to say was "No"
I didn't ask her for a blow
       job or a butt fuck, you know
       or acts perverse a porno would rehearse
       no donkey, dog or chicken show
       no line of masked men with erections
       waiting with weird expectations
She granted me a simple fuck
Was this a case of real bad luck?
I left, burned, never returned
The letter remained on the wall
       so her neighbors all
       might peruse the sign
       make up their minds
       our coitus now public banter
Perhaps I added a line or two
       about the goose and the gander
       or maybe not
       I have forgot

A month passed, June concluding
An air trip to London intruding
Off I went, heaven bent
       into the sky, miles high
When I glanced behind  
What did I see?
That crazy Lotte
       in a rage
Staring as if I was Eichmann
       in a cage
Ordered a whisky
Or two or three
I fell asleep
The stewardess awoke me
when all the passengers had departed
I burped twice and silently farted
Grabbed my bag and left
Feeling a bit spotty
       checking if there was a letter
       from Lotte
       pinned to the back of my shirt
       but nothing there
       to remind me of the hurt      
That was the end
I never saw Lotte again!

Was it Honest Abe, who said,
"There are some fools
       that fuck up your mind"
I guess Lotte was one of that kind....
My crime? I still don't know
Was I too fast or too slow?
Did my cum destroy the sofa's color shade?
Did it cut it like a razor blade?
I didn't mean to do her harm
I only sought her pussy warm
Lotte, if you're still out there
Send me a message, make it square
I'm sorry so for fucking you
But that's the thing that we men do
I don't mean to be an inquisitor
       but your cunt obviously
       had other visitors
I didn't deflower
I took less than an hour
Oh well--
       I though all was swell
No doubt sweet Lotte
       you'll roast me in hell!