Through the stained glass, the light fell to dapple
Her splendid young bosom, in chapel,
Delicious temptation
To cohabitation,
With which Father Riley must grapple!
Tag: bosom
Booty
He said “Sweetie, forget that gripe fast;
Just how long can a bod so ripe last?
Soon your bosom will sag;
Get the cash in the bag!
Does it matter, your being type-cast?
The spirit made flesh
The soft swell of her bosom sufficed …
Father Flanagan muttered “Oh Christ!”
As she knelt at the rail…
What red-blooded male
Would not be, like him, damn enticed?
And she probably cheats at cards
Amply bosomed, nice bum and long-legged
“Any chance of a root? Please!” he begged.
She said “Yes. For a price.”
Not quite love, although nice,
But the bloody bitch bloody reneged!
Vive la revolution
La Duchesse was renowned for her haughtiness,
Patronage, wealth and her naughtiness;
Artists and such
Must endure her touch,
Her bad breath, sweaty bosom and wartiness.
Revelation
“Do you like what you see?” she said sweetly,
Exposing her bosom discreetly.
She widened her eyes,
And then parted her thighs,
To exhibit herself more completely.
Hide and seek
She undresses. Concealed, he peeks.
Her bare bosom! Her bottom’s plump cheeks!
Her big nipples, so pink!
Oh my God! Did she wink!
She looks straight at the keyhole, and speaks!
Flappers
In the twenties, girls’ bosoms were flatter,
Though size, as such, didn’t much matter;
They fluttered their lashes,,
Wore pearls, bows and sashes,
Were tied to men’s beds by the latter.
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.
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.