Monstrous men! Have they no self-restraint?
Wicked instruments! Grotesquely quaint…
The Breast-Ripper! The Pear…
(Shoved up heaven-knows-where!)
But needs must, or else not be a saint.
Month: May 2017
The eavesdropper
When she overheard being discussed
Over port, by the men, her large bust,
What they’d do, if they could,
(Would they? What if they should?)
She felt strangely inflamed, though nonplussed!
Call of the wild
She attracted men’s amorous glances
At morning teas, suppers and dances;
Her damn chaperone
Wouldn’t leave her alone,
When she’d rather have taken her chances!
Babe in Toyland
We’ll, how much would a country maid know
Like a babe in the woods; afraid so!
And so amply endowed
Running with the wrong crowd,
Drinking, smoking, laid high and laid low!
Decadence
Champagne, canapés, all very swanky,
The hostess herself, though, quite skanky!
She sucked off a waiter,
Though, daintily, later,
She spat in a little lace hankie.
Taking the hint
Her lace knickers, so flimsy and scanty,
Not panties quite, more just a panty,
And all that she wore!
He must fuck her, he swore!
(Which, of course, she would not have been anti!)
The shy maid
She just nodded her head and smiled cutely,
Conveying quite plainly, though mutely,
A virtual shout,
He was left in no doubt,
She was up for a fuck, absolutely!
No regrets
Though, of course, she’d been thoroughly plastered,
He did take advantage, the bastard!
She could have said no,
Perhaps should have, although
It was fucking good fun, while it lasted!
Pressing the right buttons
Though his access was somewhat restricted,
His hand in her bra, though conflicted,
Excited her so,
That she stopped saying no,
As he’d hoped… in fact boldly predicted!
Fatherly wisdom
“Look”, said Dad. “Ask her out! A few ales …
Just use my best line! Never fails!
She’ll root, I can tell!
Arse like that, bloody hell!
Leaves a trail of slime like a snail’s”!