Though a virgin, she thought, if she chose,
That, depending on feelings, who knows…
If the fellow was cute,
And he wanted a root,
She’d say yes, if the question arose.
Tag: limerick
An eye for the mainchance
As he cranked up the foreplay a notch,
He thought “This is one chance I won’t botch!”
He let go of one tit,
Wet his fingers with spit,
And reached down for a grab at her crotch.
The way of the world
It’s the way of the world, I suppose;
A young girl has to stay on her toes.
She’d said yes to a drink
Which, of course, made him think
She might root. And she did. So it goes.
Unspeakable
The had sex in a run-down motel;
It was sordid, all kiss and no tell:
They did things in that room
There was nobody whom
She could trust well enough to go tell.
Decline and fall
He could sense her resistance was crumbling;
Hands, trembling, with zippers were fumbling.
She groped for his prick;
Her vagina felt slick;
“Do it now! Do it hard!” she was mumbling.
Naive
When he kissed her, she didn’t object:
Being innocent, didn’t suspect
That he’d want to do more,
On the couch, and the floor,
Or its rather delightful effect!
Just a peck
It began with a kiss, just a peck,
But their urges were hard, then, to check.
In a trice, clothes were shed
And, entwined on the bed,
He was in it, right up to her neck!
A question of balance
She’d done things that she sort of regretted;
She went off her food and she fretted.
She loved him so much,
But did fucking and such
Make him love her, or only indebted?
A muddle
She had got herself into a muddle:
A kiss and an innocent cuddle,
A couple of wines,
And his well-practised lines
Served her mind only more to befuddle!
Winners and losers
There’s a bloke I know, whom it amuses,
By charm, or by various ruses,
To coax into bed
Girls I’d never have said
Were that type… only beautiful losers.