She was deaf-mute, poor slut, but could mime…
Lusty hip-thrusts, lewd gestures… sublime!
Splendid titties as well,
Sparkling eyes! Truth to tell,
To not root her had seemed a damn crime!
She had it coming
Served her right, more or less, she admitted,
Well-formed as she was, ample-titted,
For flirting like that,
To, in five minutes flat,
Have been face-down, arse-up, being spitted!
Frilly knickers
Frilly knickers, scrunched up, at his feet.
What’s the story? Love? Lust? Bitter? Sweet?
Of virginity lost?
Or just carelessly tossed,
Stained and soggy, leaf-strewn, on the street?
Love possibly
Gobs of cum in her hair, on her dress.
Daddy sitting up waiting, she’d guess…
The damn strap in his hand!
Would her folks understand?
It was love! Or quite like. More or less.
After the jousting
Just a squire, a raw, callow youth,
Fair of feature, though rude and uncouth,
Lady Gwendoline mused,
Which his big cock excused,
And he knew how to use it, forsooth!
Tolerance
What a big, hairy, sweaty, dumb goon,
She thought. Like some silly cartoon!
Not to be too unkind,
But she might change her mind,
And say stop, if he doesn’t cum soon!
Animal magnetism
Of finesse he was simply devoid.
She perhaps should have been more annoyed.
Just wham! Bam! The big brute!
A rough, animal root,
She’d surprisingly, though, quite enjoyed!
Perspicacity
She came fast, with a guttural groan,
Sighed, and said “That was close to the bone,
To have called me a slut!
Which I am, frankly, but
How on earth could you ever have known?”
Curious
Well, she thought. He’s a curious fella!
Don’t get out too much, by his pallor.
The whips and the chains?
Guess that sort of explains
Why I’m locked in this cage, in his cellar!
The apron strings
“Yeah,” she said. ” It seems kind of obscene,
A big lad like him, almost sixteen,
Being still on the tit,
But you’ve got to admit,
Sometimes boys are a bastard to wean!”