He was older than her, pushing fifty,
Rich though, just a bit… sort of shifty,
And kinky and all…
Whips and chains on the wall,
Huge vibrators, as well! Kind of nifty.
Life is uncertain
Oh my God! I should never drink whisky!
It makes me so horny and frisky!
She thought, the next day,
But, be that as it may,
What a bore, were life not a bit risky!
Inquisition, the musical
“Pull that rope tighter into her crotch!
Rack her harder!” he cried. “One more notch!
Do I make myself clear?
These gentlemen here
Are paying good money to watch!
Limpid
“It’s no use!” she exclaimed, in a whimper.
“Do something! Don’t stand there and simper!
What chance of a fuck,
When the more that I suck,
Your shrimp cock just gets smaller and limper?”
The fitting room
It just fitted, delightfully tightly!
Her hymen did slow things down, slightly.
She didn’t mind much,
(Just some squealing and such).
“Good! That’s out of the way!” she said brightly.
One for the road
What on earth had got into her head?
If she’d only said “no thanks” instead!
Not had just one more drink!
Well, what else would she think,
Naked, spreadeagled, tied to his bed?
Prom night
In the cold of the night, breasts tight-budded,
Eyes brimming, goose-pimpled, She shuddered.
Her first time and all!
Up against a brick wall,
Disappointing, and sort of cold-blooded.
The biddable wench
A nice biddable wench, often bidden,
A slut, who can’t quite keep it hidden,
Can’t even decide
If she likes best to ride,
Or to be underneath, and be ridden!
A plea from the heart
She sighed, “Darling, I hope you don’t mind…
But I’m pretty much certain you’ll find
That the front hole is better,
More slippery, wetter,
More overall purpose-designed!
Enough
“God! Enough is enough!” she cried, heatedly.
“Fuck you!” he answered, conceitedly,
“Just this once more,”
(As he’d told her before!)
Fucking tireless bastard, repeatedly!