Soon the pleasure became so intense,
She gave in and gave up all pretence
Of resistance, and just
Became slave to her lust,
Poised in inter-orgasmic suspense!
Tag: lust
Therapy
They’d had sex, but it wasn’t her fault,
Not from love, nor from lust, not assault,
It was more the moonlight,
That their stars just seemed right,
More the vibe, or the groove, the gestalt!
It's only money
To what depths will a woman descend,
And enjoy it, or if not, pretend?
Not from love, not from lust…
All too often it’s just
How much cash a man’s willing to spend.
Doing is knowing
She was prudish and quickly offended,
Or, maybe, she only pretended:
She must have known lust,
From her burgeoning bust,
And her belly, so plainly distended.
Porn
Quite a lot of what passes for porn,
Be it photos, or written, or drawn,
Is so matter-of-fact
It’s devoid of impact,
And provokes, not one’s lust, but a yawn.
Basic instinct
She was pretty, but looked so forlorn
That, in spite of himself, he was torn
Between pity and lust,
But her arse and her bust,
And her pussy, though, gave him the horn.
Flustered
Though she’d secretly longingly lusted,
Confused, she grew hopelessly flustered:
The poor blushing bride
It seemed couldn’t decide
To be glad or appalled and disgusted.
Uplifting
They made love, standing up, in the lift:
It was daring, erotic and swift,
And apart from the thrill,
There was no hotel bill:
It was done less from lust than from thrift!