Though a right proper sikh, with a turban,
He’d grown rich and gone a bit urban;
He screwed English girls,
Gave them rubies and pearls,
Loved a steak and drank beer and bourbon.
Author: pete
Friends without benefits
She’d not come, but she’d seemed to be close.
Later, though, she was strangely morose.
“Can we just be good friends?”
She said. “That, or it ends.
I just find fucking totally gross!”
Self discovery
When he fondled her tits and talked smutty,
Her knees sagged, she just went to putty;
She found, to her shock,
As she straddled his cock,
Lurking under her skin someone slutty!
Down on the farm
As a girl who’d grown up on a farm,
Teasing horses’ cocks, big as her arm,
Who’d got off on machines
Since her earliest teens,
Could a boy’s slim prick do her much harm?
The rhythm of life
Young and innocent, blindly enamoured,
“I l… l… l… love you!” she stammered,
Her tits flapping round,
Her words drowned by the sound
Of her pussy (Thump! Slap!) being hammered!
Impressed
Nice tight dress, and low-cut; dressed to kill!
The snug fit caused her big breasts to spill.
The thigh-high centre slit
Straining, ready to split;
“If she bends down,” her boss guessed, “it will!”
Time and motion
He, like all men, has sex needs of course,
Satisfied without love or remorse;
Money, power, he’s found,
Keep the women around;
Tits and arses, a human resource.
Sleeping partner
“What a great arse! And such a sound sleeper!”
He thought, plunging into her deeper;
Nice tits, choice of holes,
Just like one of those dolls,
Or a proper girlfriend, only cheaper!
Good work ethic
Not a slut, though her morals are loose,
She puts out at the slightest excuse;
Great tits, arse, what the hell!
A damn girl might as well
Put the assets she’s got to good use!
Sweet fruit, thorny tree
Though her manner was certainly truculent,
Naked, he thought, she’d be succulent!
Virgin, no doubt.
He was casting about
For a more fitting ajective: fuckulent?