The encounter, alas, was ill-fated,
Regrets and excuses belated,
She’d cried and said “Stop!”
When he clambered on top,
But he rooted her still until sated!.
Just dessert
She was innocent, young and deluded;
Her big night came with breakfast included…
Wine gone to her head;
She wound up in his bed,
Soon deflowered, deceived and denuded.
Initiation
She was big-bosomed, freckled and hairy;
The boy thought her sexy, but scary.
She showed him her tits,
And her moist, bushy bits,
Which he poked and squeezed, randy but wary.
Consuming passion
As a sexual service consumer,
Beware of false promise and rumour;
If tits are inflated,
The girl’s over-rated;
It helps to keep one’s sense of humour!
Debriefing
He was anxious to know if it hurt,
As she hitched up her knickers and skirt.
“Well, a bit, just at first,
When I thought that you’d burst
My insides,” she said, smoothing her shirt.
In good hands
When she touched it, she gasped at it’s size;
When she stroked it, God! What a surprise!
Through her fingers there slipped
Globs of stuff that now dripped
From her hands and her belly and thighs!
Bottoms up!
For a girl, she could handle her grog,
Till she passed out, and slept like a log.
When she rolled up her eyes,
Her skirt rucked up her thighs,
He thought “Fuck it! Why not, you sly dog?”
French kisses
If you get a chance, have an affaire
With a French girl, a maid or au-pair;
They like sex, comme tu sais,
Two or three times a day,
Anytime, anyhow, anywhere!
Who'd have thought?
“She’s a slut,” people said with distaste;
She’d been named, shamed and shunned and disgraced,
By damn hypocrites, who
Thought of rooting her too…
Harsh, judgemental, and rather misplaced.
Her mind elsewhere
As she moaned and her orgasm neared,
She’d later regret it, she feared…
Though being seduced,
Was quite fun, she deduced,
Sex itself was decidedly weird.