Though her flesh was hot, still, in her bones,
And despite her involuntary moans,
She still guiltily knew
That a girl shouldn’t do,
What a good girl till marriage postpones.
Consolation
Disait elle “Mon amour, comme je t’aime,
Mais, tu n’es pas premier, ni deuxieme,
Ni le vingtieme, j’ai peur,
Mais tu es le meilleur!
Oui! Oui! Vraiment! La crême de la crême!
Ipso facto
The poor girl knew for certain, the minute he
Fondled her nether vicinity,
Hard as she tried,
She would not be a bride
Dressed in white, with her intact virginity.
Twit
As she says, it’s her own life to fritter.
Futile, but the girl ain’t no quitter!
She’ll party all night,
Act the whore, well, not quite,
And next day, tell the whole world on Twitter!
Too much information
She was beautiful, true, but conceited…
Before sex was even completed,
She reached for her phone,
Gave one more little moan,
And “Not bad, but had better,” she tweeted.
The sum is more than the parts
“There’s a matter we need to discuss,”
She said, frowning, subdued, “about us.”
And he knew where this led,
Lying there, in her bed,
Still conjoined. It has ever been thus.
The upshot
From besotted, bemused and beguiled,
To deflowered, debauched and defiled;
Now the object of scorn,
Pouting, moody, withdrawn,
(If he only had!), heavy with child!
Prenuptial
Though she sobbed, and her bare bosom heaved,
Swore she loved him, he wasn’t deceived,
And, at last, she confessed
That the child at her breast
Was not his, but alas, preconceived.
The right moves
She was confident, knew how to move,
Gave good head, but still, what did that prove?
That she wasn’t a novice?
Well, how many of us
Don’t need to do more to improve?
Indiscretion, the better part of valour
Soon the pleasure became so intense,
She gave in and gave up all pretence
Of resistance, and just
Became slave to her lust,
Poised in inter-orgasmic suspense!