It’s been said that men never make passes
At girls who wear thick horn-rimmed glasses;
That isn’t right, though,
It comes down, we all know,
To the size of their tits and their arses!
Month: March 2015
Rustic idyll
Country life is idyllic, bucolic,
A lazy, libidinous frolic;
Lush grass, tranquil waters,
Plump-arsed farmers’ daughters,
Lewd pleasures, and some alcoholic!
The fire
She moans, writhing, heart pounding, hands clenched,
But the crotch of her panties is drenched!
Let him do what he will!
Let him not stop until
Her wild, burning desire is quenched!
The answer to prayer
From the straight path and narrow she’d strayed,
Given in and had sex, now she prayed
Not for mercy, God-sent,
Since she didn’t repent,
But for more of the same, I’m afraid!
The dish and the spoon
It began watching each other piddle,
Progressed to a mutual fiddle;
The two childhood friends
(Can you guess how it ends?)
Became fuck-buddies! Hey-diddle-diddle!
Callow youth
He was just a youth, callow and gangling;
Between those slim legs, though, was dangling
A prick like a horse,
Which she fancied, of course,
And would have, his with her legs entangling!
The balance of probability
Though she put up some token resistance,
Maintained a (heart-breaking) safe distance,
At last she gave in,
Though she knew it a sin,
To his lustful, soft-spoken insistence!
Of human bondage
“She’s a pain slut” they said, on the quiet;
He asked her. She didn’t deny it.
“It’s weird, I know.”
She said, smiling, “Although,
You might get off yourself, if you try it!”
Slight imperfection
Young and innocent, highly respectable,
Totally bloody delectable!
Taken to bed,
“Now I’m ruined!” she said,
Though the damage was barely detectable.
Tempting fate 1
“My good man,” said the Countess, quite terse,
“We’re alone, then, for better or worse…
You might ravish me, say…
Force yourself, have your way…
To which fate I would not be averse.”