Her loud clothes and her make-up disguise
Saggy tits, a big bum and thick thighs,
But she’s such a good sport,
One forgets, (as one ought),
That she’s not a great root, though she tries.
Month: November 2011
Serendipity
She’d been screwed, she was led to surmise,
By the evidence, dried on her thighs,
As she yawned, when she woke,
In the bed of some bloke,
His identity one more surprise!
Post hoc
“Well, it serves me right, maybe,” she sighed.
“He’d have stopped, had I asked, had I tried.”
She had led him on, true,
Been a tease, as you do,
But, by God, he’d felt good, up inside!
Regret
Tears welled in her innocent eyes,
Her breasts heaved with her heart-broken sighs;
She’d been lied to and laid,
Been seduced and betrayed,
Love’s sweet juice still flowed warm down her thighs!
The embrace
Though she wasn’t immune to his charms,
She confessed to herself a few qualms;
Might he love her and leave her,
Debauch and deceive her?
“Who cares?” she thought, snug in his arms!
Girt
Her full breasts dangled over her girdle;
Her bra gone, her tights still to hurdle.
“Come on!” she cried, giggling,
Her big bosom jiggling,
“My milk is beginning to curdle!”
Feet and inches
As he worked his way in, inch by inch,
She did, ever so fleetingly, flinch,
As her hymen was split,
Since it hurt, just a bit,
But the next half-a-foot was a cinch!
The creative juices
Quite distracted, while busily sketching,
He thought “My, she looks rather fetching!”
His model, bored, nude,
Fantasised being screwed,
Nipples hard and her moist pussy stretching!
Open arms
He positioned his body astride her;
She opened herself to him wider,
Her legs round his waist,
In her feverish haste
To get more of him deeper inside her!
The upper hand
When he groped at her tits, she got cross,
And thought “Fuck it! I’ll show him who’s boss!”
So she did a slow strip;
First he started to drip,
Then he came, and she thought “Well, small loss!”