Quite the gentleman, thank God, ostensibly!
Still, just one drink, she thought, sensibly.
One became lots…
Beer, wine, vodka shots,
And he fucked her, of course, reprehensibly.
Tag: consent
Initiation
She was buxom, big-arsed and plump-thighed.
The poor boy! He had no place to hide!
And him, scarcely developed,
Half-smothered, enveloped,
Bestraddled, cunt-struck, hers to ride!
Beneath her dignity
When she woke the next morning, she thought “If I’d
Had a stiff gin, and been fortified,
Maybe, then… but…
To be fucked like some slut!
Well a woman, of course, was quite mortified!”
The small print
Who’d have thought her consent had extended
To being stripped, roughly upended,
Screwed various ways,
(Some of which would amaze!)
Not at all what the poor girl intended!
A grey area
Though he had no defence, still he tried,
Saying “Look, it was hard to decide…
She might not have said yes,
But she hitched up her dress,
So it seemed, somehow, sort of implied.”
Love possibly
Gobs of cum in her hair, on her dress.
Daddy sitting up waiting, she’d guess…
The damn strap in his hand!
Would her folks understand?
It was love! Or quite like. More or less.
Tolerance
What a big, hairy, sweaty, dumb goon,
She thought. Like some silly cartoon!
Not to be too unkind,
But she might change her mind,
And say stop, if he doesn’t cum soon!
His lucky day
“Watcha waitin’ for, darlin’,” she laughed
“God! A woman would have to be daft,
To say no to a screw…
A cute fella like you!
Nice cock, too!” she said, hefting his shaft.
Resignation
“So,” she thought, with a sad mental shrug,
“It would seem that I’ve been a damn mug!
Stuck alone with this bloke,
And he’s after a poke,
Never mind just a suck or a tug!”
Self-basting
He said “Mate! What I mean is that she,
Get this, mate, is as keen as could be,
To be spit-roasted, mate!
Front or back! She can’t wait!
Maybe both, just between you and me!”