Sex has happened since Adam and Eve;
Though who knows, I’m inclined to believe,
As a red-blooded male,
By my rating scale,
It’s more blessèd to give than receive.
Close encounter of the first kind
It was moist, pink, off-putting a bit,
Like a plump fig, so ripe it had split.
It was dripping with juice,
But what possible use?
Taste it? Poke it? His finger might fit.
Apparition
At the sight of her, nude, his eyes goggled.
To think… He could not; his mind boggled!
He reached out to clutch…
Warm, soft, smooth to his touch!
As she giggled, her pretty tits joggled.
The line in the sand
It had all been completely unplanned,
She could not, in fact, quite understand
How she came, now, to be
Naked, over his knee,
As her arse felt the flat of his hand!
The silk road
Disbelieving, she heard the silk rip;
Her eyes widened, she bit on her lip,
And, heart thumping, breath bated,
She anticipated
The hiss and the sting of the whip.
The ties that bind
She was head-over-heels, besotted;
Thank goodness the ropes were well knotted!
They say love is blind,
And she didn’t much mind
If she stood for it, lay down or squatted!
Still-life
On her bosom was tattooed a filigree,
Etched there, tattooists of skill agree,
Painstakingly,
Rather breathtakingly,
Even artists more run of the mill agree.
Breeding
Those who’ve screwed her, or been given head agree,
All those who’ve been in her bed agree,
Though she’s a bitch,
Though she wear not a stitch,
She’s still, plainly, a bitch of good pedigree.
Madonna
Long loose labia, looping like frills,
Make him hard, make him sweat, give him chills;
Heavy, full, low-slung breasts,
Lolling languid on chests,
From which warm, nutty mother’s milk spills!
The human comedy
She gags, swallows, laughs sort-of, or snorts,
Wipes her mouth, while she gathers her thoughts.
As he fastens his zip,
She says, licking her lip,
“Well, it’s love, I imagine, of sorts.”