The maid glumly considered her plight;
Tipsy, naked, well almost, not quite.
From the bulge in his pants,
There now seemed little chance
That her virtue would see out the night.
The warm hearth
She’d been cosseted, been brought up right,
Taught to not misbehave, which despite,
She lay nude on his rug,
(God, he looked so damn smug!)
By the fire’s soft flickering light.
By a lake in the woods
She exclaimed “Oh, my goodness, Sir Knight!
I was bathing! You gave me a fright!
Why, I might have been raped!
I could not have escaped!
Though, of course, one would put up a fight!”
The boy and the whore
She said “Come here, love. I won’t bite!”
We’re both grown-ups. Just leave on the light.
Drop your pants. That’s the way.
Let me help, if I may …
Stick it in now. There. Harder! That’s right.”
Feeling lucky
She said “Come on! We don’t have all night!”
She undressed, and she turned down the light.
“I’m not saying ‘Let’s fuck’,
But strip off, try your luck…
There’s a pretty good chance that we might!”
White knuckles
She moaned, clutching the bed-rail tighter,
Flushed scarlet, her knuckles still whiter,
Delirious, fraught.
“Please don’t stop now!” she thought.
“Oh my God! Could the fit have been tighter?”
Youth versus experience
He was well-endowed, true, the young blighter,
Which made it, though, still, none the righter;
“I could be his mum!”
She thought, squeezing his bum,
To get all of him in, all the tighter!
The extravagance of youth
He approached her with youthful exuberance,
Sporting a splendid protuberance;
Bold, she took hold,
Lovingly, to enfold
It, snug, into her pendulous booberance.
A place in the sun
She lay basking, the sun on her face;
Her limbs moved with a langorous grace,
In lascivious ways,
To get more of its rays
On another, more intimate place.
Lapping it up
At the party, she sat on his lap,
Her thighs parted just slightly… a gap
Into which, as it would,
His cock swelled, which felt good,
Till she turned round and gave him a slap!