So, they’re fucking. It starts to get rough.
She screams “”Punish me!” Just off the cuff.
“I’m a slut! I’m a whore!
Fuck me! Slap me some more!
Sort of half true, but mostly all bluff.
Love’s labours lost
To the best of her youthful ability,
Blessed with a certain agility,
Willing enough,
Till she ran out of puff…
He still limp! Goddamn shame! Such futility!
Whore-ticulture
Quite the lady, she said, self-assured,
“The buggery, yes, I endured,
But go back in front?
Lady garden or cunt,
I don’t want the thing bloody manured!”
Precociousness
At her age, love would not be condoned;
He’d be ostracised, shamed and disowned.
So they must be discreet,
Pleasure all the more sweet
When the time comes, for being postponed.
Puzzlement
What a problem the poor fellow faces;
Undressed, her mysterious places
Uncovered, laid bare,
A blank canvas, but where,
How begin, though, to fill in the spaces?
The summing up
In terms, frankly, that couldn’t be blunter,
She said “You’re a john, just a punter,
So, thanks for the fuck,
Now goodbye and good luck.
Your dick’s small, you’re a wheezer and grunter!”
Not faking it
She went pale, cold, body aquiver.
His cock seemed to reach to her liver!
She raved like a loon,
Then fell into a swoon,
Eyes rolled up, as she came like a river!
Beyond the call of duty
Though the chap was superbly endowed,
She was plucky, the lass, quite uncowed.
Yes, she’d fuck him, she swore,
Front and back, and what’s more,
All ten inches, she recklessly vowed!
Smoke and mirrors
Fairies, ghosts, just for ignorant folk!
This must be some elaborate joke…
She seemed real enough
When they fucked, but then … puff!
Vanished! Just as he came! In what? Smoke?
Supernatural
Nymph or demon? Sphinx? Elf? Fish or fowl?
Was she purring, or was it a growl?
Her cunt steaming inside,
As she rode him astride,
Till she came, with an unearthly howl!