She was pretty, broad-hipped and big-hootered,
A slut, or at least thus reputed,
But looks are deceptive;
She wasn’t receptive,
Would not, indeed could not, be rooted!
The gasp
He unfastened her brassiere clasp;
She emitted a small startled gasp.
But the next part was best,
When he licked at each breast,
With a tongue like a hot, fleshy rasp.
At her service
Lady Anne woke and couldn’t recall;
Was he dark? Was he handsome and tall?
Being nude, she deduced
She’d been raped or seduced.
“Ma’am,” said Jeeves, “Ahem… will that be all?”
Shoosh!
When he cursed and blasphemed, she said “Shoosh!
Just relax, line yourself up and push.
Count to ten, start again,
Wait until I say when,
And stop beating around in my bush!”
The French wench
Bold Sir Percival, fighting the French,
Came across an inviting young wench.
He thought “God, what a charmer!
And me in my armour,
Locked in without spanner or wrench!”
The fuckless zip
He increasingly clumsily fumbled;
“It seems that your zip’s stuck,” he mumbled.
“Indeed? What a shame!
Oh well. What was your name?
You can’t be of much use then,” she grumbled.
Skin-deep
Girls, beneath tits and pussy and skin, you
Are jelly and bowel and sinew;
A man, it’s well known
Has more blood and more bone,
Which is why it feels good when he’s in you.
A man of his word
He was hung like a horse, the chap jested.
“If so,” she laughed, “I’m… interested!”
What later occurred,
Proved him good as his word,
Which her sore, swollen cunt still attested!
Nightmare
He at least asked if she was awake;
“And what difference,” she said, “would that make?
I’d get fucked either way!”
“Yes,” he said, “but you may
Have been fucked up the arse by mistake!”
Pecking order
His cock looked like a fat ugly snake,
And erect made girls quiver and quake;
It became a contest
To see which girl’s cunt best
Could accommodate him and not break.