Boys and girls, in their hormonal teens,
Know what flirting and dirty talk means;
A girl wiggles her arse,
Soon she’s down on the grass,
A boy’s hand down the front of her jeans!
Tired and emotional
When she drinks, she gets maudlin and weepy,
And lonely, and horny, and sleepy.
She has a good cry,
Then has sex with some guy;
When she comes, she cries more! Kinda creepy!
Private party
Tired, sore, bruised, her private parts battered,
She nonetheless felt sort of flattered.
Just think! All those guys!
From her thighs to her eyes,
By their various semens bespattered!
The daily grind
She puts up with his grunting and sweating,
Not helping so much as just letting;
She’s bored, and it shows,
Since she already knows
The whole fuck will be well worth forgetting.
Faith hope and chastity
Damn! She’d broken her chaste vow again!
Even nuns need a fuck, now and then…
Though she did try her best…
(His hand cupped her right breast)
It came down to who, where, how and when!
A little water clears us of this deed
They’d had sex; the guilt drove her insane!
If her mum found out, how to explain?
She stood there, in the shower,
For almost an hour.
The evidence washed down the drain.
Feeling the music
When she plays her viola da gamba,
Curves sensuous, warm, lustrous, amber…
She likes to be nude,
To get more in the mood…
Her thighs thrum, her loins hum to the timbre!
Improvisation
In a pinch, when she’s horny, she’ll root
The dog’s bone, a doll’s leg, bits of fruit,
A wine bottle, shampoo,
Heel of boot, toe of shoe;
Once an oboe! Or was it a flute?
The ship’s cook
At the risk of provoking a mutiny.
Once she’d subjected to scrutiny
All of the crew,
She should choose one, she knew,
Though she didn’t, in fact, want to root any!
Relationship on the rocks
“Oh my God!” she said, (more like a screech),
“When I said to you, back on the beach,
That I felt, you dumb jock,
Like a shag on a rock,
It was only a figure of speech!”