Cupcake-breasted, petite, elfin-faced?
Or more earthy, tits down to her waist?
Does she need to be wooed?
Is she sluttish and crude?
In the end, it all comes down to taste!
Tag: breasts
Bewitched
The poor chap was completely bewitched,
By her voice, so seductively pitched,
By the way her breasts swayed,
(Which his hard cock betrayed),
And the way, when she walked, her arse twitched!
Gravitational attraction
Smiling lips in a beautiful face,
Rolling hips, lolling breasts, easy grace,
Laughing mischievous eyes,
As he’s parting her thighs,
And invading her personal space.
Striptease
She seductively, teasingly strips,
Undulating her breasts and her hips,
Pouting mouth, narrowed eyes,
Long, smooth, sinuous thighs,
Erect nipples and stiff lower lips.
Ambrosia
She’s a slave more to love than to Mammon;
Her sex life all feast or else famine.;
Petite, slender legs,
Little breasts, like poached eggs,
Her cunt salty and sweet, like smoked salmon.
Raking the coals
He’d just come. She lay damply enfolded,
Her cunt to his cock slickly moulded,
Breasts heaving, lips bruised,
Spent, relieved, but confused;
Love’s flame gone, but the embers still smouldered.
Skirting the issue
The girl’s skirt’s altogether too short;
Her breasts lack any means of support.
Has she no thought, or dread,
In her pretty young head,
Of the risk with which such dress is fraught?
The profligacy of youth
The boy did as he’d said, and withdrew,
Sprayed her belly and breasts with his goo!
And her face, and her hair!
In her eyes! Everywhere!
And he seemed pretty proud of it too!
In the still if the night
A small room, in the still of the night;
Through the window, the moon’s spill of light
Falls upon her white breasts.
To his fevered requests,
She still won’t say she will, but she might!
La vie en rose
She’s a whore in a rough-house saloon,
Breasts each like a big rosy balloon!
When she takes men upstairs,
These and much more she bares
Meanwhile humming “Au clair de la lune”.