As a girl how she’d longingly dreamed
Of her wedding night, flirted and schemed.
Now a bride! At long last!
He undressed… but aghast
At the sight of his penis, she screamed!
The blushing bride
From the bride’s pussy slick moisture leaked.
Though she covered her eyes, she still peeked.
Her first glimpse of a cock!
She recoiled in shock.
“That can’t all fit inside me!” she squeaked.
Second prize
His first time, late at night, in the park…
Where’s her cunt? Take a stab in the dark…
It was warm, it was tight…
But, what with the poor light…
He was just a bit wide of the mark!
Brevity, the soul of wit
Her short skirt and tight blouse were suggestive;
The men standing round her grew restive.
“Garn! Show us some tit!”
Said one notable wit.
Her sharp glance proved that looks are deceptive.
Quid pro quo
He’d bought dinner, she’d told a rude joke,
A good sign. Should he ask for a poke?
Fish and chips ain’t no feast,
But a blow job at least?
Fuck it! No! Life’s too short! Go for broke!
Call me Daddy
The young whore, in fact just an apprentice,
Laughed drunkenly, non compus mentis.
He squeezed her soft bum,
Mumbling “Don’t tell your Mum”,
While he screwed her, in loco parentis.
Soft landing
Folded into his urgent embrace,
Her big boobs take up most of the space.
Bloody lovely, God knows!
As the old saying goes;
She won’t ever fall flat on her face!
Through glasses darkly
It’s been said that men never make passes
At girls who wear thick horn-rimmed glasses;
That isn’t right, though,
It comes down, we all know,
To the size of their tits and their arses!
Rustic idyll
Country life is idyllic, bucolic,
A lazy, libidinous frolic;
Lush grass, tranquil waters,
Plump-arsed farmers’ daughters,
Lewd pleasures, and some alcoholic!
The fire
She moans, writhing, heart pounding, hands clenched,
But the crotch of her panties is drenched!
Let him do what he will!
Let him not stop until
Her wild, burning desire is quenched!