She moans, writhing, heart pounding, hands clenched,
But the crotch of her panties is drenched!
Let him do what he will!
Let him not stop until
Her wild, burning desire is quenched!
Tag: consent
The balance of probability
Though she put up some token resistance,
Maintained a (heart-breaking) safe distance,
At last she gave in,
Though she knew it a sin,
To his lustful, soft-spoken insistence!
The cure
Still a virgin, She made a clean breast of it.
“Okay, I’ll just make the best of it…
Don’t worry… Strip…
I’ll just put in the tip…”
“God, that’s good!” she cried. “Stick in the rest of it!”
His lucky day
Might they root? It remained to be seen.
He was nice, and he seemed to be keen.
Since she’d flirted a bit,
Even showed him some tit,
Not to fuck him would be a bit mean!
Conditional approval
“Get your hand off my pussy!” she hissed.
“Stop at once! Fuck off! Cease and desist!
Well, alright. If you must…
But you do know, I trust,
I’m at least honour-bound to resist!”
Baptism of fire
She approached sex a bit apprehensively,
Naked, but legs crossed defensively;
Having said yes,
She got fucked nonetheless,
North and south, pussy, mouth, comprehensively!
An eerie silence
As he said to his mate, “Well, I guess
I can’t swear that she ever said yes,
Being, you know, deaf-mute,
But she was a great root!
Still, a bloke might be jailed for less!”
Playing the odds
Since she hadn’t, in fact, said no, yet;
Since her pussy, he knew, was so wet;
Since she’d given him head,
And lay nude on his bed,
She was up for a root, yeah, no sweat!
Detour
They had sex every Thursday, which suited…
She’d dressed… but his ardour rebooted…
She mildly protested
But, easily bested,
Was soon unzipped, stripped and rerooted!
A soft touch
A slow hand, a smooth tongue, a soft touch;
Going down on her, foreplay and such;
Take your time! Not too fast!
When you fuck her at last,
She might protest a bit but not much!