Growing up; such a giddy ascent!
Adolescent girls, keen to assent
To a casual root;
Young ripe bodies, so cute,
All for love, fucking free, not a cent!
Month: December 2016
Ignorance is bliss
Still naive, to a certain extent,
Not quite certain, in fact, where it went,
Just “down there”, more or less,
But content to say yes,
To his question, whatever it meant!
Niche
Certain girls seem content with their roles
As just sex objects, fantasy dolls,
Living life, one suspects,
From one fuck to the next,
Tits and arse, a selection of holes.
Love-sick
Love-sick fool! She began to undress…
A bit mean to have not, or done less.
So she’d fuck like a whore,
Till his cock was red-raw!
Yes, she thought, well until or unless.
Disgruntlement
He kept saying he loved her. She pouted,
And said, if he did which she doubted,
She’d never have known it,
The way that he’d shown it,
And sex, too, not all it was touted.
Reputation
A good girl, or at least so reputed,,
At times, though, it seems, when it suited,
She’d ditch her ideals,
Put on her high heels,
And go out and get herself rooted!
The disconnect
“Want a root?” he asked. Rather succinct.
She’d thought love and sex pleasantly linked,
But not so, it would seem;
The brute act and the dream
Not divorced, but yet sadly distinct.
Regret
Later on, she would find herself rueing
Her coyness, the billing and cooing,
And wish, ever so,
That she’d quit saying no,
Just said yes, and got on then with screwing!
Youth
By sixteen, she’d matured and bloomed,
Ripe and ready, flirtatious, perfumed,
Out with boys late most nights,
Sampling all the delights
Of the flesh, her poor parents presumed.
Hustled
Naked, giggling, affected by drink,
On the pool table! “What do you think?”
Said the guy with the cue.
“What’s a fella to do?
Which to pot first? The brown or the pink?”