Young.. fresh meat, as they say in the trade…
But she’d fucked the wrong guy, I’m afraid…
It was dark, she’d been drinking…
But what was she thinking?
Virginity sadly mislaid!
Tag: drunk
Memory is a fickle thing
“Want a root?” the guy says, and she nods…
And they all give her one, shoot their wads…
She’s drunk, barely aware,
Doesn’t seem to much care…
Might remember, but what are the odds?
Thinking positive
So , she’s lying there, naked , supine,
Which he takes as a positive sign…
That she’s up for a fuck…
What incredible luck!
Or she might just have had too much wine.
Gin fling
Her poor head was beginning to spin,
From an excess of rather nice gin,
Which was all very well,
But she couldn’t quite tell
If or which fucking hole he was in!
Not getting the message
She was drunk, vision blurred, her words slurred…
The whole thing seemed a trifle absurd,
Naked, screaming like hell,
Punching, kicking as well…
He kept fucking her, though, undeterred.
Blind leading the blind
He was drunk and his vision was blurry…
“I can’t find your cunt!” he said, slurry…
And she was drunk too,
But still up for a screw…
“It’s the front hole,” she said. It’s, like, furry!”
Might versus right
From what little the lass recollected,
She might have been raped, she suspected…
The accent on might…
It had been a big night…
And she possibly hadn’t objected.
Basket case
Pretty face, a great arse…she’s blind drunk…
And her little short dress must have shrunk…
Showin’ plenty of skin,
One breast out, one breast in,
One more drink, and a fuck’s a slam dunk!
Ubangi?
A few drinks and she’s talkin’ Swahili
Comes on kinda all touchy-feely…
Ain’t wearin’ no bra…
Legs are open so far
You can see her gash… not quite, but nearly!
Double trouble
She developed a taste for for good gin
Which increased her temptation to sin…
Like one night, seeing double,
She got into trouble
By fucking some guy… and his twin.