His cold hands on this woman’s soft flank,
He regretted the cost, to be frank.
They’d had dinner, got drunk
Now his hard-on had shrunk.
He should just have stayed home, had a wank.
Month: April 2015
Imperfect recollection
Were her panties silk? Maybe just cotton.
Her tits? Were they big? He’d forgotten.
She’d seemed keen enough,
But it must have been bluff.
She’d cried after. He’d felt a bit rotten.
Where angels fear to tread
Though she wasn’t completely opposed
To the game he so slyly proposed;
Ropes and blindfolds and such,
It all seemed a bit much,
But, then, might be quite fun, she supposed!
The dilemma
Though a virgin, be that as it may,
How else might she persuade him to stay?
If she gave in, said yes,
Would he love her, then, less,
Or the more, having gone all the way?
Square root
She’d made love to him, just on a dare,
So as not to be thought to be square,
Which she didn’t mind, but
To be then called a slut
Was inaccurate, harsh and unfair!
Do you have a reservation?
She had some reservations, quite rightfully;
“Suit yourself then!” he said spitefully.
“Fuck you! Okay!”
She said. “Have it your way!”
And it wasn’t so bad. Well, not frightfully.
Bad dream
As a girl how she’d longingly dreamed
Of her wedding night, flirted and schemed.
Now a bride! At long last!
He undressed… but aghast
At the sight of his penis, she screamed!
The blushing bride
From the bride’s pussy slick moisture leaked.
Though she covered her eyes, she still peeked.
Her first glimpse of a cock!
She recoiled in shock.
“That can’t all fit inside me!” she squeaked.
Second prize
His first time, late at night, in the park…
Where’s her cunt? Take a stab in the dark…
It was warm, it was tight…
But, what with the poor light…
He was just a bit wide of the mark!
Brevity, the soul of wit
Her short skirt and tight blouse were suggestive;
The men standing round her grew restive.
“Garn! Show us some tit!”
Said one notable wit.
Her sharp glance proved that looks are deceptive.