Who’d have thought her consent had extended
To being stripped, roughly upended,
Screwed various ways,
(Some of which would amaze!)
Not at all what the poor girl intended!
Month: December 2018
The procreative imperative
A man’s motives are rarely abstruse;
He wants sex, with the slightest excuse.
Lust, the thrill, power, greed,
Justified as a need,
Like for drugs, and about as much use.
Comings and goings
Two or three at a time, quite a few;
It would end when it ended, she knew.
One bloke went out of turn,
And she said, kind of stern,
“You can go to the back of the queue!”
Aghast
She’d been taken a bit by surprise,
From the size of the whites of her eyes,
At the heft of his cock,
Her mouth open in shock,
And the piss trickling down her smooth thighs!
Means to an end
To what tricks would the man not descend?
What disgusting things might he intend?
Liquor? Drugs? Well of course!
Money? Bondage? Brute force…
Till she’s brought to a sad, sticky end?
Man the bilge pumps!
Straight up, doggy-style, her perched on top,
She’d come, he’d come. Still pounding! Slip, slop!,
Panting, pussy awash,
She gasped “Darling!” (Splish, splosh!)
“Do you think we could maybe just stop?”
In vino veritas
She woke, naked, and covered with goo,
Squirted, splattered by goodness knows who,
On a damp, smelly bed,
Squishy pussy, sore head,
And thought “God! What on earth did I do?”
Virtue and necessity
Poor young wench, captive, raped, god-forsaken,
Home burned by barbarians, taken
Away on their ship,
(Her first overseas trip),
Unaccountably awed, though quite shaken.
Heaven and earth
Poor young lass, sorely used by the preacher,
In ways lewd and sinful, vile creature,
God’s servant indeed!
Saggy-bellied, weak-kneed,
And so unprepossessing of feature!