Though she punched him a bit, and she squealed,
She knew right away that she’d yield.
She’d thought that she’d die,
When his cock brushed her thigh!
But by then, though, her fate had been sealed!
Dude
“Sarah Jane” said the badge on her titty.
A smart bastard, down from the city,
Pot-bellied and bald,
Said “What’s t’other one called?”
Which, he thought, bloody fool, rather witty.
Fallen woman
Fallen woman, alas, or still falling,
A few shreds of virtue forestalling
Her probable fate…
But the fuck was first rate!
It was plain that she’d not missed her calling!
Made to measure
Well, I must say, she said, and sighed sweetly,
Your cock does fit in rather neatly!
I doubted it would,
Yet it feels so good,
All that great length, inside me completely!
Slim pickings
Perky titties, and lean as a whippet.
Her skirt little more than a snippet
Attracting one’s gaze,
As one thought of the ways,
And the holes into which one might slip it!
Saying it with flowers
He’d brought flowers. She’d been wined and dined,
So she knew what the cad had in mind.
His hand crept up her thigh…
Defloration drew nigh…
To which fate she was blithely resigned!
A vexed question
He considered her tight little slit;
Would his, now rock-hard, cock even fit?
It might stretch, he supposed,
Though it seemed tightly closed.
Might it not, if he tried, simply split?
A visceral sensation
The young fool seemed contented to dally,
To banter, to damn shilly-shally!
She wished he’d just stick
His big (hopefully) prick
Up inside the warm tripes of her belly!
Catch a falling star
When he goosed the naive little starlet,
She squealed and wept and went scarlet!
A hand up her skirt,
Did her no real hurt…
In due course she became quite the harlot!
Stretching the friendship
Out of sheer damn bone-headed lust,
He crammed all his big cock in her, just!
About half an inch more,
Though, she inwardly swore,
And her pussy would pretty much bust!