"Horton Hires a Whore."
On a lonely cold night, in the dark of his room,
When the whole of his house was as quiet as a tomb
And his new, stirring urges weren't going to fade,
Horton knew, he just knew, it was time to get laid.
But all Horton knew of sex, he'd learned from books,
And Horton was not blessed with manly good looks.
He was fat. He was bald. And he smelled like fresh piss.
He was not a man girls long to fondle and kiss.
So. There lay our hero, his breath coming fast,
As he thought about getting his end wet at last.
And after some time, a smile crossed Horton's face.
He knew what to do, now. He knew of a place
Where the women were not quite as picky as some
And his dick could get sucked like a small toddler's thumb
And he was, sure as hell, guaranteed a good come.
It could all be his, HIS (for a small, discreet sum)
Horton got out of bed, just as quiet as a mouse,
And waddled as fast as he could from the house,
Not alerting his mom, who was watching TV.
(Horton still lived at home. He'd just turned thirty-three)
He went in a taxi - the walk was too hard
For a three hundred pound, wheezing, bald tub of lard.
And when Horton got close to that glowing red light,
His substandard cock stirred to life at the sight.
He gathered his courage. He walked through the door.
He was here, he was ready, and looking to score.
And the first thing his wandering greedy eyes saw
Was a sweet little redhead whose outfit screamed 'whore!'
He walked over, shaking. His knees had gone weak.
He showed her his money, too nervous to speak.
Her smiling lips smiled and her shining eyes shone
And she took Horton's cash - in a flash it was gone.
She led him out back without saying a word
(Which was just as well, too - Horton wouldn't have heard
Past the sound of his pulse as it drummed in his head)
And she gestured to Horton to sit on the bed.
She was out of her clothes with a swish and a snap
And she jumped atop Horton and straddled his lap.
Horton was panting. Horton was sweating.
He couldn't believe the fine ass he was getting.
She unzipped his pants and she took out his cock.
And Horton, of course, was as hard as a rock.
And almost as soon as the fucking began,
She was screaming ecstatically "Do me, fat man!"
Though she looked like a leprechaun riding a whale,
And although Horton's body was doughy and pale,
And the stench of his breath hit her full in face,
She gave it her all and she fucked with fast pace.
And when our Horton came with a grunt and a groan,
She pretended to come with a sigh and a moan.
And she smiled at him as he walked out of the place
With a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
And another whore watched her, her face white with shock,
And said "How could you possibly fuck fatman cock?"
And the sweet redhead smiled, and replied "It's just that
Every man deserves lovin', no matter how fat."
On a lonely cold night, in the dark of his room,
When the whole of his house was as quiet as a tomb
And his new, stirring urges weren't going to fade,
Horton knew, he just knew, it was time to get laid.
But all Horton knew of sex, he'd learned from books,
And Horton was not blessed with manly good looks.
He was fat. He was bald. And he smelled like fresh piss.
He was not a man girls long to fondle and kiss.
So. There lay our hero, his breath coming fast,
As he thought about getting his end wet at last.
And after some time, a smile crossed Horton's face.
He knew what to do, now. He knew of a place
Where the women were not quite as picky as some
And his dick could get sucked like a small toddler's thumb
And he was, sure as hell, guaranteed a good come.
It could all be his, HIS (for a small, discreet sum)
Horton got out of bed, just as quiet as a mouse,
And waddled as fast as he could from the house,
Not alerting his mom, who was watching TV.
(Horton still lived at home. He'd just turned thirty-three)
He went in a taxi - the walk was too hard
For a three hundred pound, wheezing, bald tub of lard.
And when Horton got close to that glowing red light,
His substandard cock stirred to life at the sight.
He gathered his courage. He walked through the door.
He was here, he was ready, and looking to score.
And the first thing his wandering greedy eyes saw
Was a sweet little redhead whose outfit screamed 'whore!'
He walked over, shaking. His knees had gone weak.
He showed her his money, too nervous to speak.
Her smiling lips smiled and her shining eyes shone
And she took Horton's cash - in a flash it was gone.
She led him out back without saying a word
(Which was just as well, too - Horton wouldn't have heard
Past the sound of his pulse as it drummed in his head)
And she gestured to Horton to sit on the bed.
She was out of her clothes with a swish and a snap
And she jumped atop Horton and straddled his lap.
Horton was panting. Horton was sweating.
He couldn't believe the fine ass he was getting.
She unzipped his pants and she took out his cock.
And Horton, of course, was as hard as a rock.
And almost as soon as the fucking began,
She was screaming ecstatically "Do me, fat man!"
Though she looked like a leprechaun riding a whale,
And although Horton's body was doughy and pale,
And the stench of his breath hit her full in face,
She gave it her all and she fucked with fast pace.
And when our Horton came with a grunt and a groan,
She pretended to come with a sigh and a moan.
And she smiled at him as he walked out of the place
With a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
And another whore watched her, her face white with shock,
And said "How could you possibly fuck fatman cock?"
And the sweet redhead smiled, and replied "It's just that
Every man deserves lovin', no matter how fat."
