She’d run out of excuses, essentially.
Now she’d get rooted, potentially,
There in his car,
Down to panties and bra,
But he dropped off to sleep, providentially.
Author: pete
What are friends for?
Just another damn randy damn male!
Her best friend and all! Damn betrayal!
She’d thought he was joking;
Now naked, cock poking,
Her protests to little avail!
Hands-on learning
Not much hair on her pussy, just fuzz.
When she touches it though, as she does,
If she rubs it just right,
She discovered one night,
Just by chance, there’s a nice kind of buzz!
Cuban girls
They’re laid back, women down in Havana.
No sex today? Maybe mañana!
They drink rum and dance,
Love a bit of romance,
Or, for lack of a man, a banana!
The perils of selling encyclopaedias
“Please come in!” he says, strangely emphatic.
“Thanks so much!” she says, automatic.
If only she knew
The vile things that he’d do
To her, later that night, in his attic!
Sisterhood
Could the new novice be an imposter?
The sisters, who’ve made up a roster,
To lie with her , say
She’s a slut, doesn’t pray,
Not so much as a damn Pater Noster!
It’s a jungle out there
Bloody Tarzan! thought Jane, with a scowl.
Bloody chest-thumping, silly damn howl!
Still, he saved me, I guess,
And I have to confess,
He’s a great root, although he smells foul!
Curlicues
Those things dangling from pussies. Lips? Flaps?
Did God make them from leftover scraps?
What on earth are they for?
Silly frills, nothing more?
Or to keep out small creatures, perhaps?
Sheep gone astray
How on earth to religious girls cope?
Kiss a boy and allow him a grope,
Like as not giving in
To lust, ecstasy, sin,
Trying hard not to think of the Pope.
Something askew
A good-time girl, not one to eschew
A few drinks, an anonymous screw,
Although many a night,
When she got home, she might
Lack her panties, perhaps, or one shoe.