Casey and his Bat

(with my sincerest apologies to the ghost of Ernest Lawrence Thayer)

Casey and his Bat

(A Ballad of the Smut Republic. Sung in the Year 2003)
'Twas looking grim, it's sad to say, the Smutville nine had failed;
Time and time and time again the sweet redhead was impaled.
Although each had tried their best, it seemed none had done the trick;
With only three gents left unspent, each with a throbbing dick.

"Candy is my name!" she'd squealed as in the bar she sauntered.
Big ripe tits, a luscious ass, the men had all gone bonkers.
"I've never had an orgasm and now I want one bad!
Whoever gets me off, I swear, will get a month of head!"

The gents decided, beerily, that each would take their turn;
The Smutville nine were studs, 'twas true, a lesson she should learn.
The drunken slutty tart was urged to join them in the back.
Little Brian was first up and moved in for the attack.

She yawned and filed her nails as Brian pumped with all his might.
"Next!" she cried as he pulled out; it continued through the night.
Bert had no wood and so he passed to his besotted chums.
Each man up said the same thing, "I'll just fuck her 'til she cums!"

Thomas went five minutes, his face a determined grimace;
Poor Jeff barely started then in moments he was finished.
Richard passed out waiting; he was snoring 'neath the table;
At long last, just three to go, but all were young and able.

Jimmy tried, quite capably, to bring her to the finish.
"Pretend you're Popeye," one wag joked, "who just ate some spinach!"
Flynn was next, technique superb, but alas he had no luck.
One last man with one last chance to unleash a mighty fuck.

From eight throats - or maybe seven - came a lusty "Hoo-ray!"
'Twas Casey's turn and all well knew that he could save the day.
His member and his stamina were the stuff of fable;
He dropped trou and with a thud laid his cock on the table.

The men grew silent staring at the monster prick in awe;
This huge phallus, no one doubted, would fuck the redhead raw.
As Casey looked around the room, a smile upon his face,
From his demeanor all were sure that he would win the race.

The slut's eyes grew big. "Ooh!" she chirped. "Now that's a cock I like!
If that can't do it, nothing can, I'll have to try a dyke!"
As Casey mounted her the redhead soon began to moan.
"Oh yes!" she panted, "Harder! Harder! Fuck me with that bone!"

The gents cheered Casey on; each thrust, they chanted as a man,
(Well, only seven got to cheer - Richard was in the can)
"Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!" urging him to pound her,
Twenty minutes passed, then Casey's pace began to flounder.

His friends were worried, wondering; perhaps this was the end.
A blow like this to Casey's ego would take time to mend.
Humping the slut harder, Casey strained with all his vigor,
Against all odds, his great member swelled up even bigger!

The smirk was gone from Casey's lips, he would not unleash yet;
Their bodies slapped together as, fucking hard, they met.
He struggled to hold off as the sweat trickled down his brow;
The limp-dicked eight were anxious, how much longer could he plow?

Harder, faster, deeper, he would split this wench wide open!
Candy wiggled, finally, her bored demeanor broken.
"Aaaah!" cried Casey and let loose with such force that he farted.
The redhead pouted. "Is that it? I'd just gotten started..."

Oh! somewhere in this land the frothing Guinness is on tap;
Whores are sucking merrily; cheating husbands catch the clap.
Somewhere Candy's fucking something, of this there is no doubt.
But there is no joy in Smutville -- mighty Casey has struck out.