Though she hadn’t yet come, when he came,
“If you don’t come,” he said, “who’s to blame?
Don’t mean nothin’ to me.
Use your finger, maybe!”
Second-best, but she did, all the same.
Tag: finger
Bravado
She cried “Lord! Stick your finger in first!
From the size of that thing, I might burst!
No, I’m not saying no.
I might give it a go …
Oh my God! What the fuck! Do your worst!
Close encounter of the first kind
It was moist, pink, off-putting a bit,
Like a plump fig, so ripe it had split.
It was dripping with juice,
But what possible use?
Taste it? Poke it? His finger might fit.
At the doctor
With her heart in her mouth she disrobes;
His cold hands press and squeeze her pink globes,
Then he shines a bright light
On her pussy, clenched tight,
Where his rubber-gloved finger now probes!
Still life
She got off, as a rule, on her own,
With her dildo, a bottle, a bone,
Or her finger, a shoe,
A zucchini would do,
A brush handle, a door-knob, her phone.
The joke
She’d been fingered and fucked, rubbed and poked;
“Can you do that deep-throat thing?” he joked,
And, not wishing to lie,
She said “No, but I’ll try”,
So she did, and she damn near choked!
The moving finger
The sweet pleasure of love is but fleeting;
The making of love self-defeating…
You can make it linger,
By sniffing your finger,
Though this, strictly speaking, is cheating.