Satan for a Girl

He sold his soul to Satan for a girl.

But Satan never owned her soul;

Perhaps her body from the way she looked.

God does beautiful; he can't do that

Lips, tits, hips- the way, her hair swung back;

Seduction's always been the Devil's work?

But the love-sick, scrawny, no-chance-on-earth-but-maybe-hell

Prepubescent adolescent was willing to try anything to have his way.

A soul meant nothing, he was horny. It was obvious who came

Out ahead if he bartered it way. The Devil was a sucker.

Ha ha ha the teen laughed as he sacrificed rabbits, cats, squirrels,

Whatever roadkill or vermin he could get his well-lotioned hands on

In a pentagram drawn on the floor with black candles burning incense -

It smelled so terrible the Prince of Darkness had to like it.

Flames coalesced to form a figure in the darkness and dim light.

Embers smouldered into arms, shoulders, face, hair and breasts?

Much to his chagrin the Devil was a woman like in a movie he had seen,

Was it the remake or original? It didn't matter. He was screwed.

But not in a good way like he wanted with that D-cup hottie.

"I know what you want," she, the devil, said with fire.

The teenager could only stare. He wasn't thinking of her.

Satan was suddenly the only thing he'd ever desired.

"I want you," he found himself saying in a strange moment of courage,

And even stranger moment of speaking to a woman.

"Come with me if you've forgotten the other girl."

"What other girl?" He asked quite truthfully and

Took her hand. It burned as if a branding.

But the teenager could care less; he would have his sex. 

And nothing else mattered.