Though a sin, as he knew, lust burned on;
He was constantly hard and turned on,
So he went to a whore,
With whom fucking, and more,
Could be practised, learned in, (or learned on).
Month: October 2015
Jeans therapy
How he longed to get into her jeans,
By whatever duplicitous means.
He imagined her sighs,
As he stroked her smooth thighs,
And her squishy, warm, pink in-betweens!
Red letter days
They had markedly differing views
About which of her holes he could use;
Though her arse was taboo,
And her mouth, mostly, too,
On his birthday and such, he could choose.
The sexual imperative
“Bloody men all want one thing”, she said,
“They all just want to get me in bed.
Why in heaven”, she sighed,
Can’t they be satisfied
With a blow job or hand job instead?”
The cocktail party
From flirtation to fuck, things went normally,
Later that night, though, more stormily.
Maybe the booze.
His fault? Hers? Who knows whose,
When, as yet, they still hadn’t met formally?
Gregarious
Nice big titties. A nice bit of tail,
And fond of a few pints of ale.
A good sport, good sort,
Best of all, the lads thought,
She’d root anything passably male!
Fun and games
It was fun, she supposed, while it lasted.
Great sex! All those tricks that he’d mastered;
The massage, the games,
Being called filthy names,
And the anal of course, too, the bastard!
Little Miss Muffet
Young Miss Muffet sat stroking her tuffet;
She found if she rubbed it enough it
Felt like a big spider
Had crawled up inside her.
Quite nice… fucking great! Oh fuck! Stuff it!
The casting couch
Chatted up by a man in a bar,
Flattered, told he could make her a star!
Well, you know how it ends;
Fucked by him, then his friends,
Shattered dreams, pussy pouting, ajar.
Decisions, decisions!
A nice cock. So much nicer than some!
Should she suck it, and swallow his cum,
Rub and squeeze with her tits,
Or just see how it fits
In her pussy, or maybe her bum?