Miniskirt, halter, stockings of mesh,
Maiden offering, smooth, shining flesh!
Breasts as firm as ripe fruit,
His to have and to root!
Perhaps virginal, tender and fresh!
Tag: breasts
Prom night
In the cold of the night, breasts tight-budded,
Eyes brimming, goose-pimpled, She shuddered.
Her first time and all!
Up against a brick wall,
Disappointing, and sort of cold-blooded.
God’s work
The Inquisitor scoffed, “She shall burn!
But repents not, as yet, I discern.
Let us flog those proud breasts!”
He exclaimed to his guests.
“Father Francis, I think it’s your turn.”
Bon vivant
Panting, dripping with sweat, her breasts heave.
God! Such stamina! Hard to believe!
She’s exhausted strong men;
Pausing, now and again,
For more bubbly. Such damn joie de vivre!
Spot check
Her young breasts, full and firm, and hard-nippled,
Her tight buttocks twitched, tensed and rippled.
White skin, her red hair …
Was it this made him stare,
Or the freckles with which she was stippled?
His train of thought
Her breasts swaying, the way she was bending,
Dress fallen away, his thoughts tending
To carnal delight,
Which the wench perhaps might
Be soliciting, bloody intending!
Crossing the line
Around fourteen her womanhood loomed…
Hips and breasts swelled. More knowing. She bloomed.
Stupid boys in her class
Squeezed her tits, groped her arse,
To much more of which shit she was doomed.
Blind-sided
He’d considered his marriage robust,
Was appalled as he watched it go bust;
All the tears and fights,
His wife going out nights,
Dressed to show off her lovely low bust!
The crux
He caressed her warm breasts; her pulse quickened.
Heart yearning, gut churning, quite sickened!
“I love you!” she sighed,
(His two fingers inside).
Like his cock, to her shock, the plot thickened!
Depth
Breasts as soft and as sweet as marshmallow;
Enough, you’d have thought, for a fellow,
To like, if not love,
But when push came to shove,
She was quite disappointingly shallow!