Caution, care to the winds long since flung,
She to small shreds of dignity clung;
Naked, racked by desire,
Her pussy on fire,
Soft nips, teasing slips of the tongue!
On the cards
Flowers, gifts, a guy does the hard yards,
A first kiss, and the girls drop their guards!
A sly squeeze of a breast;
If she doesn’t protest,
Well, of course, a fuck’s quite on the cards!
A pleasure to do business
She looked cheap, and she was, tarted up;
Her john panting, a big-hearted pup!
He was short on allure,
Too fat, that’s for sure,
But nice to fuck, once started up!
The happy minstrel
Almost eighteen, she’d waited so long!
Not that wanting and waiting were wrong…
A moonlight serenade…
She was wooed, won and laid…
The poor girl could be had for a song
Heart-breaker
Handsome bastard, he had quite an aura;
He left girls both sadder and poorer.
Huge cock, ego to match;
A girl’s heart and her snatch,
If not broken, then battered and sorer!
Buying hay for another man’s horse
Pussy-whipped or a saint? Man or mouse?
Or enlightened, non-bitter ex-spouse?
While he paid all the bills,
Found religion, took pills,
His ex-wife fucked new men in his house!
The downside of a woman’s prerogative
She recalled, later on, rather dimly,
Her having said no, rather primly,
Then waking to find
(Had she then changed her mind?)
Herself drunk, being fucked, smiling grimly!
The edible woman
Plucked and shaved, rubbed with oil of truffles,
Trussed tightly, she giggles and shuffles;
Chef, lover, masseur,
She’s his chicken chasseur!
She comes, moans, which her gag, of course, muffles!
Professional ethics
One’s relationship with one’s masseuse,
Though professional, quite often blurs:
Her soft hands on one’s skin,
Little towels so thin;
Fingers brush on one’s cock… “Mmmm!” she purrs!
Post-traumatic dress disorder
Just sixteen, little more than a child,
But precocious, flirtatious and wild!
Clumsy hands in her bra,
Being fucked in a car,
Though what trauma this caused did seem mild.