She grabbed hold of his cock and she spat,
And then started to rub it, the brat…
Then a suck, and a lick,
And, well, that did the trick…
And he came on her face and tits… splat!
Tag: hand job
The ruined dress
I suppose that’s what comes of one’s flirting,
She mused. Just a squeeze… and he’s squirting!
All over her dress!
Sticky, horrible mess!
Though it had been, at least, quite diverting!
The matter in hand
He decided he’d simply persist;
Buy her presents, perhaps get her pissed.
He imagined his cock
Getting hard as a rock
In the grip of her pretty young fist!
Social inadequacy
The poor tearful girl said “Oh crumbs!
Giving hand jobs I’m simply all thumbs!
I don’t mind giving head,
But I do have this dread,
I might vomit, perhaps, when he comes!”
The sexual imperative
“Bloody men all want one thing”, she said,
“They all just want to get me in bed.
Why in heaven”, she sighed,
Can’t they be satisfied
With a blow job or hand job instead?”
Professional ethics
One’s relationship with one’s masseuse,
Though professional, quite often blurs:
Her soft hands on one’s skin,
Little towels so thin;
Fingers brush on one’s cock… “Mmmm!” she purrs!
Spilt milk
As his hand slid up under her dress,
She sighed “Yes! Oh my God! Touch me! Yes!”
While she pulled down his zip;
She just tickled the tip,
And he came in hand! What a mess!