“Well,” she said, with a broad southern twang,
“If I’m gonna get rooted, goldang,
Then you good ol’ boys might
Jist as well do it right…
Shoot, I’m jist gonna fuck the whole gang!”
Tag: consent
Mind games
“You can have me,” she says with a wink.
“Would your husband not mind, do you think?”
“Yes”, she says. “If he knew…
He’d kill me then kill you.”
And his cock starts to rapidly shrink.
The lancinating glance
He’d been ogling her tits, which was weird…
Might want to do more too, she feared…
He might want to screw…
Goodness! What should she do?
Fuck! Too late! She’d already been speared!
Too late
He was vulgar, offensive and crude…
And what’s more, she’d not been in the mood…
He’d been overly forceful,
Though later remorseful…
But fuck! She’d already been screwed!
Venial sin
She does root, though she’s very discreet…
If she fancies a fellow, she’ll cheat…
An occasional yes
She need hardly confess…
Sin a notion she thinks obsolete!
Another day another dollar
Guess it’s all just a part of the job…
A girl can’t be a whore and a snob,
She thought. Can’t pick and choose,
Have much say who she screws…
Like this foul-mouthed old fucking fat slob!
Cock-crow
“Though I don’t like to blow my own trumpet,
I do get my fair share of crumpet!”
He crowed. “Let’s just say…
I don’t charm ’em, don’t pay…
They can bloody well like it or lump it!”
A gift horse
“Do you fancy a bit of a tumble?”
He asked, and continued to fumble
Up under her dress…
When she blushed and said “Yes!”
“Fuck!” he thought. Well, a man couldn’t grumble.
Lassitude
Protestations of love, disingenuous…
Arguments, logic… so tenuous…
Still disinclined,
She said “Please, do you mind…
Let’s not fuck… Perhaps something less strenuous?”
Upstairs, downstairs
She’d said no, for all that had achieved…
She could tell… but would not be believed…
Crumpled hankie, red eyes,
Semen dripped down her thighs,
As her splendidly large bosom heaved!