The poor girl, she was tortured infernally,
Doomed, she expected, eternally,
Once she gave in,
Though she’d known it was sin,
But goddamn! It felt so good, internally!
Category: PG
Parental guidance recommended
Summer of love
She was fifteen. Her name was… what? Julie?
Age, names didn’t bug us unduly.
Free love, lots of weed…
Well, what more did we need?
She had nice tits. She smelled of patchouli.
The photographer’s model
A photographer’s model, her fees
(“Spread your legs, darlin’. Wider. Say cheese!”)
Depend largely on what
You want done, clothed or not,
If the rent’s due, and if you say please.
Reading the signs
He was nice, but she thought she detected
A hint, though she might stand corrected,
He wanted her just
To indulge his vile lust,
Which he did, pretty much as expected!
Outstanding
She was quite justifiably proud
Of the tits with which she’d been endowed;
With a cleavage like that
And nice shoes, the right hat,
Well, a woman stood out in the crowd!
A night in
Watchin’ TV, and sharin’ a rug.
Yeah, she gave him a bit of a tug,
Let him cop a good squeeze
Of her titties…but jeez!
Ain’t you done yet? she said, with a shrug.
The balance of trade
Once seduced and abandoned, betrayed,
She soon turned to the world’s oldest trade.
She did rather well, though,
Dressed up nice… Even so,
It was all a pathetic charade!
The dandy
Quite the man about town was young Harold,
Smart-talking and gaudy-apparelled.
“I give you her hand,”
Said her Dad, gun in hand,
“And it ain’t just your name’s double-barrelled!”
The silver lining
Men are bastards, she’d learned, to her cost.
Having been seduced, then double-crossed.
Then she found out men paid,
Though, to get themselves laid,
Pretty well, too, so all was not lost.
Nipped in the bud
Girls, come puberty, soon as they bloom,
Await mostly the same pleasant doom;
To be noticed by men,
And desired, and then
Be deflowered; who knows, though, by whom?