“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!”
Tag: consent
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!
Tacit consent
When he fucked her, deep down she rejoiced…
Jubilation, however, unvoiced,
Flushed with pleasure, not shame…
He could shoulder the blame…
Though her cunt had been already moist!”
Lost
Young and pregnant, she packed up and scooted.
Alone, drunk, she hollered and hooted…
“I don’t give a damn!
Wanna fuck? Here I am!
Fuckin’ lonely, lost, fuckin’ uprooted!”
Stoic
She supposed now she’d be bloody skewered.
Damn wretch… cocky, so self-assured!
A deep breath, take stock…
Just a man. Just a cock.
Bloody hell! Well, it must be endured.
The Christmas spirit
“My fair queen, compliments of the season!”
He said. “I, of course, have no reason
To say no, but still…
As you wish, so I will…
To not fuck you might constitute treason!”
The meek
“Would you mind…?” he said, rather obliquely.
She protested, true, but just weakly…
He fucked her right there…
Though she cried, did he care?
“May I go now, please sir?” she said meekly
Grateful wretch
She enjoyed a nice fuck, she conceded…
In fact, it was just what she’d needed,
Although she, no doubt,
Could have well done without
The man’s simpering thanks it preceded!