Though her husband was rich and adoring,
She found married life rather boring.
She’d cruise in her car,
In a short dress, no bra,
Or drop into some bar, do some whoring!
Month: January 2016
Making do
Randy, reckless, what might do the job?
She thought. Cucumber? Corn on the cob?
Carrot? Candle? Shampoo?
A wine bottle? Her shoe?
Wait! That’s it! The stair banister knob!
Picking and choosing
With both hands she took hold of his shaft.
“Like a pick handle, boyo!” she laughed.
“Such a knob! Fuck me puce!
To not put it to use
A damn woman would have to be daft!”
Diabolical
Clank and thump. Whistle, grind, hiss of steam!
Culmination of some evil scheme!
The shaft cranks to and fro …
Steel dildo! God! No!
The machine roar drowns out the girl’s scream!
Mechanisation
The machine gleamed, a menacing sheen,
The huge cock part, at least, fairly clean …
But the pistons and gears!
The noise as it nears!
Too late! Strapped in place! None too keen.
Every dog has its day
The young Duchess, though naked still regal,
Indecently fondled her beagle.
Her Grace didn’t mind
His responding in kind,
Though improper, perverse and illegal!
Stockholm
She lay musing; the thing she detested
Was not so much being molested.
She had, yes, at first,
But what seemed now the worst,
Was the thought of him being arrested!
l.o.v.e.
The young baker’s girl kneaded her bun,
Pressed the dough on her pussy when done.
Would he know? Could he tell,
From the taste or the smell,
What a powerful spell she’d just spun?
Testing the boundaries
“Get your own tits out, can’t you?” he grumbles.
Inexpertly, cursing, he fumbles.
She shrugs off her bra.
“Help yourself! There they are,
But no touching my pussy!” she mumbles.
Vile seducer
He gazed into her limpid blue eyes,
Hotly whispered his well-practised lies,
His right hand on her breast,
While the left one caressed
Ever higher between her locked thighs!