The poor girl, she was tortured infernally,
Doomed, she expected, eternally,
Once she gave in,
Though she’d known it was sin,
But goddamn! It felt so good, internally!
Month: July 2018
Drowning his sorrows
A man ages, grows old in a wink.
His hair thins and his cock and balls shrink.
Roots become so damn rare
That he ceases to care.
It’s enough to drive good men to drink!
The book and its cover
He was pimply and skinny and weasely,
Just one quick fuck, she thought,queasily.
Much to her shock,
He had quite a huge cock,
Which he slipped in delightfully easily!
Summer of love
She was fifteen. Her name was… what? Julie?
Age, names didn’t bug us unduly.
Free love, lots of weed…
Well, what more did we need?
She had nice tits. She smelled of patchouli.
The photographer’s model
A photographer’s model, her fees
(“Spread your legs, darlin’. Wider. Say cheese!”)
Depend largely on what
You want done, clothed or not,
If the rent’s due, and if you say please.
Reading the signs
He was nice, but she thought she detected
A hint, though she might stand corrected,
He wanted her just
To indulge his vile lust,
Which he did, pretty much as expected!
In the heat of the moment
Well, you know… it can be hard to gauge,
In the heat of the moment… the age
Of a girl. (Too damn young?
God! She’s good with her tongue!)
Though you could, perhaps, ask, at some stage.
Outstanding
She was quite justifiably proud
Of the tits with which she’d been endowed;
With a cleavage like that
And nice shoes, the right hat,
Well, a woman stood out in the crowd!
Her last assignation
Her dress carelessly clinging and ragged,
The tipsy whore stumbled and staggered.
Alas, and alack!
In the darkness lurked Jack,
His cock hard, his blade cold, sharp and jagged.