DRINKING, SMOKING AND SCREWING (PAST COMP ENTRY)

(Note for US readers: By 'fag' I mean cigarette - British English slang.)    
   
When we've had a shag    
you light up a fag;    
I pour a whisky    
to keep me frisky,    
   
By me on your back,    
you give a short hack    
at the first inhale.    
I see the smoke trail.    
   
Then you roll on me,    
precariously,    
hold fag in one hand,    
on other you land.    
   
Between right fingers    
cigarette lingers.    
Up you keep its end,    
with burning reddened.    
   
You smother your bloke    
in cigarette smoke    
as you talk to me    
post-coitally.    
   
As you lie astride    
my subsiding pride,    
you work up a rant    
like aggrieved infant.    
   
"Those killjoys of health    
can play with themself!    
Say it's bad for you    
to drink, smoke and screw!"    
   
"They tax what I smoke,    
and you drink, no joke!    
Maybe some bright spark    
might say, Tax this lark!"    
   
"A life short, merry,    
is the one for me!    
Enjoy what you crave;    
can't escape the grave!"    
   
"It is my body,    
my spirit is free.    
Drink, smoke and screwing    
I'm happy doing!"    
   
"If I die early    
the Bomb I won't see.    
My gravestone can say,    
'I did life MY WAY'!"    
   
Your philosophy,    
held so trenchantly,    
near subverted me    
bar one disagree.    
   
"I don't smoke", I said;    
"Doesn't help in bed.    
Makes men impotent -    
not mere sentiment."    
   
You gave me a pout,    
and stubbed your light out    
upon the ash tray    
Just by where we lay.    
   
You say, "Fair enough -    
you give a good stuff!"    
Then transfer your lips    
to between my hips.    
   
I let my glass stand   
on chest, propped by hand.    
Poured more whisky in,    
feels cool on my skin.    
   
Your giving of head    
reheats things in bed.    
The blood you make surge    
soon revives my urge.    
   
I give out an "Aaah!!"    
Straight like a cigar    
my manhood goes long    
in your lips and tongue.    
   
I wiggle my ass.    
It upsets my glass,    
Drink tipped in your hair    
and on my chest bare.    
   
At interruption,    
you change direction.    
You give my skin taste,    
no drop would you waste.    
   
I nuzzle the hair    
upon your head fair    
while you lick my chest,    
My tum rubs your breast.    
   
When we do re-twine,    
your mouth's tasting fine,    
of whisky and seed    
and nicotine weed.    
   
I say, "I love you -    
you're helluva screw,    
my favourite sin!"    
to your minxy grin.