Her thin smock, worn for decency’s sake,
Was threadbare, much too small, and opaque;
There was so little to it,
Her tits showed right through it!
He’d squeeze them, but then she might wake.
For posterity
Though his motives were not strictly laudable,
Whimpers and moans, barely audible,
Cries of delight,
And her skin, in that light,
He hoped, deep in his heart, were recordable!
Top shelf
To refuse her might well be offensive,
And yet he remained apprehensive;
Her obvious charms,
Her bare, welcoming arms,
Made him certain she must be expensive.
Hirsute birthday suit
He likes women whose pussies are hairy,
Big-bushed, thickly thatched, like a prairie;
Their armpits as well,
With that animal smell,
Which with diet and hygiene may vary.
Aries
Women born with the star sign of Aries
Are quite often off with the fairies,
Have frequent romances,
Fuck only with Cancers,
(Or bulls, goats or fish), but this varies.
Men as sex objects
In their bedrooms, the girls pinned up beef-cake;
A few of them started a sweepstake…
They might win a prize
For “Most Guys” or “Prick Size”,
Judged by photos they took as a keepsake!
Malice aforethought
One soft breast in each hand gently cupped,
She was his, to defile and corrupt!
Although within the law,
Still he did lock the door,
Lest some well-meaning fool interrupt!
Friends with benefits
With their puberties contemporaneous,
Fate, chance, things rather extraneous
Played out, so when
She first thought about men,
He was there; their first fuck just spontaneous.
Smells like team spirit
As the locker room’s big mirror fogs,
And the girls all strip off their wet togs,
In the shower they squeal,
Share soap, cop a feel,
Play turns into slippery snogs!
Private dancer
As she pirouettes round them the men all hope
Maybe they’ll get a kiss, then a grope.
“God, please,” he begs,
“Let me part those long legs,
And be up in there, pushing her envelope!”