His hand moved to her pussy, to cup it,
But then, in a trice, it was up it!
The bastard just smirked,
While she squealed and jerked
On his fist, like some damn silly puppet!
Tag: limerick
Sight for sore eyes
Lovely bosom, well-rounded behind;
Well, a fellow would have to be blind,
Not to stare, just a bit,
Not get hard, not admit
To the thoughts such an arse brought to mind!
The best of times, the worst of times
In the chaos and civil unrest,
She was found one day, dazed and undressed,
How, she couldn’t explain,
Being screwed, in a lane,
By a stranger, in fact, she confessed.
Inappropriateness
Her angelic face, dark eyes that smoulder;
Each passing week, seemingly bolder!
Not quite so naive
As one might well believe;
Heaven help the poor boys when she’s older!
Running the gauntlet
The damn boys at her school! They’re all shockers!
They hang in the hall, by the lockers,
And point and guffaw…
So damn hard to ignore,
Saying crude things about her big knockers!
The path of least resistance
All the arguing, tears and stress;
So much easier just to say yes!
Hesitate, just for form,
To conform to the norm,
And then grab his damn cock and undress!
Putting her money where her mouth is
Did he need to be bloody invited?
Blow job? She’d have been damn delighted!
But no. Stand in line.
Just a fuck would be fine,
If her love must remain unrequited.
Skewed logic
“I’m a virgin,” she whispered demurely.
Kissing could not hurt though, surely?
Touching her, there?
She, in fact, didn’t care
If he finished up fucking her, screwily.
The truth about Helen of Troy
“Oh my God, Paris darling!” sighed Helen.
“Your cock! You must cum by the gallon!
I want it, of course!
My own big Trojan horse!
I don’t care if I split like a melon!”
Ethereal
She was sylph-like, long limbed, little-titted,
Wore gossamer garb, as befitted
A creature so rare,
Barely stirring the air
In the rooms of men through which she flitted.