In the heat of the night the girl slumbered,
Moonlit, skin aglow, unencumbered,
Deliciously wet,
Unaware still, as yet,
That her days as a virgin were numbered.
Month: December 2015
The village maid
Quite the gentleman, proper nobility,
No doubt about his virility;
Awestruck, she sucked,
Gave herself to be fucked,
To the best of her humble ability.
Casting the first stone
An erotic aesthete, scholar, purist?
Or sleazy, sick, sexual tourist?
Pornography? Art?
Was he even that smart?
Questions best left to mull by the jurist.
Rite of passage
Cherry popped, she felt changed, somehow girlier,
Tits firmer, pubic hair curlier,
Flirty, not shy,
Mildly wondering why
She’d not got herself rooted much earlier!
Fundamentally speaking
In America, gals have an ass,
A term vulgar demeaning and crass;
English girls have an arse,
Which, of course, has more class,
As befitting a more refined lass.
A woman’s intuition
The next morning, half naked, mind foggy,
She vaguely recalled feeling groggy.
Perhaps she’d passed out.
She’d been rooted, no doubt…
Since her panties were sticky and soggy.
Poise
The damn girl showed remarkable poise;
Naked, cameras, lights, all that noise,
A damn lens up her cunt,
Being poked back and front,
By men’s fingers and pricks and their toys!
Depth
Breasts as soft and as sweet as marshmallow;
Enough, you’d have thought, for a fellow,
To like, if not love,
But when push came to shove,
She was quite disappointingly shallow!
Rubbing it makes it worse
What to make of this intimate itch?
She rubbed idly, not wearing a stitch…
Not unpleasant, she thought…
Was it something she’d caught?
Or just horniness? Goodness knows which!
Hard done by
Being screwed wasn’t too bad, except
He was only half-hard! Jesus wept!
She’d not miss, not as such,
Her virginity much,
More her panties and bra, which he kept!