She was buxom, big-arsed and plump-thighed.
The poor boy! He had no place to hide!
And him, scarcely developed,
Half-smothered, enveloped,
Bestraddled, cunt-struck, hers to ride!
Author: admin
Angling
In her quest for a suitable mate,
To a certain extent, it’s just fate.
She may hope, she might wish
That she’ll catch the right fish;
Tits and pussy, of course are good bait!
Truth will out
She dripped lace, and her gowns were of satin,
Of course her behavioural pattern,
Her lewd escapades,
Showed, despite her charades,
She was still nothing more than a slattern!
Beneath her dignity
When she woke the next morning, she thought “If I’d
Had a stiff gin, and been fortified,
Maybe, then… but…
To be fucked like some slut!
Well a woman, of course, was quite mortified!”
Impure thoughts
As the young parson spoke, her thoughts drifted,
Their eyes met, she blushed, the scene shifted;
The dark parish hall,
She against the cold wall,
With each stroke she was moved and uplifted!
Uninvited guest
Silent partner
In a corner, concealed, he lurks.
She undresses; he leers and smirks.
He imagines her shock,
Should she see his fat cock,
At which, watching, his sweaty hand jerks!
Feudal doodle
Women born back in times medieval,
Of violence, fear, upheaval,
Perhaps didn’t mind
Sex, rape, things of that kind,
Or if porridge contained the odd weevil.
Surprise party
She enjoys the strange games he devises.
What pleasure! What pain! What surprises!
She’s ordered to strip;
Will she suffer the whip?
Or his dildos, of all shapes and sizes!
Roped in
“Do you want a damn fuck or not, cowboy?
Or else, let a man show you how, boy.
This filly can buck!
Saddle up! Try your luck!
It’s free pussy,” she said. “Grab it now, boy!”