Darling, I’m thinking of getting implants.
Right fine, I was going to the gardening centre today, we can go together
No, silly, breast implants.
You already have two breasts.
I want bigger ones.
How much do they cost.
Eight thousand pounds.
What, four thousand a breast, are they gold.
It’ll be worth it, and you are a breast man.
For that price, I would expect a lifetime subscription for Farley's Rusks.
You wait until you take my bra off.
That’s another thing, a new wardrobe.
Think of it as a Valentines present.
Wouldn’t you like a ring instead?
No, I want bigger breasts.
I want a bigger dick, but I can’t have one.
Well, actually, you can, darling.
Not for those prices.
No, the surgeon says he can take a bit of fat off my breasts and insert it into your member.
What, you’ve been discussing me with the surgeon.
Yes, seemingly it’s the rage.
Oh, I don’t know, seems a bit Frankenstein to me.
Just think, you could be walking about with me inside you.
That’s another thing, you’re always complaining about your breasts.
Only when you grab them like rugby balls.
I get excited easily.
Why don’t we go to bed and discuss it?
Oh, no you don’t, before I know it you’ll be getting a nose job.
Look at my breasts darling, now imagine them bigger, can you see it.
All I can see is pound signs.
Put that extra large member inside me, how are you feeling now.
I’m feeling poor.
You’re not looking properly, visualise me taking my bra off, you’re getting erect, you can’t take your eyes off them. What do you see now
My god, it's amazing, I can see it now, do you think I can dip my rusk in your milk.
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 14th, 2026 05:39
- Category: Humor
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Teddy.15, Tristan Robert Lange, rebellion_in_sanity
Offline)
Comments6
Men have paid for pleasure since the dawn of time it is the trump card that women hold. The problem being that in making your woman more attractive it draws more flies. Happy is the man that has an ugly wife. Vinegar works well as a perfume for flies. Good write Paul
8 grand is asking a bit much. lol
Was the surgeon a sculpture named Michel Angelo?
Well written , I really enjoy your Humor. Your poem humorously explores the dynamics of a couple's conversation about body image, desires, and the absurdity of societal expectations regarding physical appearance. It juxtaposes the desire for cosmetic surgery with the humorous and often absurd expectations that the couple have of each other.
Blame those glossy magazines
Anyone would think you are married to. Katie Price 🤣 and may I just laugh out loud at sorrenbarret's review lol 🤣 🌹 have a lovely day darling.
Think everyone's married her at one point in their life.
Paul, this is pure farce wrapped in sharp social commentary. The escalating surgery talk, the fixation on cost, the absurd final punchline…it’s designed to shock and amuse at the same time. You push the envelope and make it theatrical. Definitely memorable. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Don't take her to hot countries now in case they melt.
LOL!
Lovely with a cap L. Perfect summary before the end 'All I can see is pound signs.'
What a poem 😂🤣😇😁
He was thinking of the beer he could buy with that money.
Lol. Hysterical.
Big girl now
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