The men covered up ever so cleverly;
(Christ! The brass did come down heavily!)
Beds always made,
Never drunk on parade,
Local sluts out of huts before reveille!
Author: pete
Not passing muster
Her low neckline was showing one breast;
Her short skirt barely covered the rest.
Though her bag matched her shoes,
In most club members’ views
She looked common, and quite underdressed.
A bit jaded
God she’s sick of men! Bloody chartreuse!
Bondage, so-called erotic art, spurs,
All their sick, creepy fun,
Then, their orgasm done,
They roll off, when she’s still to start hers!
Omar the tent-maker
Quite a well-endowed chap, was young Omar;
Too well! Virgin still, Well, so far!
Though most girls just said no,
She said “Give it a go,
Maybe using your cock like a crowbar.”
Victim impact statement
Quite disgraceful, the way that he acted!
One understands how she reacted.
To whip out his ♠♥♠♦ !
Well, imagine her shock!
And to squeeze her ♠♣♠♣ ! (Rude words redacted.)
Natural goodness
A nice natural girl, nothing plastic,
And good in bed too, quite gymnastic!
Plain knickers and singlet,
The odd curly ringlet
Escaping beneath the elastic.
Industrial strength
She had pretty much nought but a smile on,
A wisp of silk (maybe just nylon).
He walked through the door,
Dropped his jeans on the floor,
Balls like apples, a cock like a pylon!
The rat race
A nice dinner, good wine, he was witty,
But forced himself on her; a pity.
Still, mostly convivial,
Damage just trivial.
Just part of life in the city!
Lies and damn lies
Her predicament grew rather dire:
His hand up her dress, moving higher!
“Oh Jesus!” she cried,
Panties tugged to one side.
“I’ll just put in the tip.” Bloody liar!
In praise of older women
She drank more, her tits sagged, she got beamier;
Sex with her, though, just got steamier!
Dissolute, true,
But by God, she could screw!
Still, her life, plagued by scandal, grew seamier.