On Becoming A Nympho Poem by Phil Soar

When my wife became a nympho,
I was at her beck and call
Anytime she felt the need,
my defences would fall
She often caught me unaware,
demanding that I please her
Against the door, upon the floor,
or up against the freezer

The days were long, she wore a thong,
unfashionable at her age
Her well hung breasts, were past their best,
and at that 'floppy' stage
Her appetite for trying things
Became quite entertaining
Unless of course, the intercourse
Had left my body straining

It more or less, became a test
The hourly sex encounter
She thought I looked good in my vest
As I tried my best to mount her
But sadly it became too much
My body could not take it
The sight of her old hairy crutch
Had made me try to fake it

She left the day I lost my will
And moved to West Virginia
I believe she died, with a man 'inside'
And said You hadn't got it in yer! .