Pretty drunk, she just lay, glassy-eyed,
Pussy dribbling a bit, open wide.
He unbuttoned his pants.
Well, why pass up the chance?
Not too lively, but still, a free ride!
Tag: drunk
In uncertain light
God! She’d not even thought to enquire,
Half-drunk, by the flickering fire!
Well fucked, but by whom?
She’d been led to assume
By Sir Hugh, (but in fact by his squire!)
The rough and tumble
When she drank, she’d get loud, start to stumble,
Her prissy veneer would crumble;
She’d tell filthy jokes
And start flirting with blokes,
Grab their cocks, and say “Fancy a tumble?”
The rough with the smooth
Her upbringing was godly and stuffy;
She’d come home, though, drunk, eyelids puffy,
A just-rooted grin,
Having opted to sin,
And, by choice, with boys rowdy and scruffy!
Showing her cards
Despite his mates’ ragging and scoffing,
He judged, by the wine she was quaffing,
(A bottle so far),
And not wearing a bra,
There was likely a root in the offing.
Tickling her fancy
Giggling drunk, about three-quarters pickled,
Her pussy squelched softly and trickled,
Each step of the way;
Yep, she would have to say,
She’d been proper and good slapped and tickled!
Catch a falling star
He resembled somebody quite eerily,
(Much as she saw him just blearily).
Famous or not,
He was pretty damn hot!
“Want a fuck?” (Just in case), she said cheerily.
Ennui
Slightly drunk. half-undressed, she reclined.
He suggested a root. She declined,
Not from meanness or spite,
But then said “Oh, alright”,
Out of boredom, or just to be kind.
No regrets
Though, of course, she’d been thoroughly plastered,
He did take advantage, the bastard!
She could have said no,
Perhaps should have, although
It was fucking good fun, while it lasted!
Passing muster
The men covered up ever so cleverly;
(Christ! The brass did come down heavily!)
Beds always made,
Never drunk on parade,
Local sluts out of huts before reveille!