Dress and underwear tossed in a pile,
Panting, flushed, she exclaimed with a smile.
“That was awfully good!
I came hard, as one would!
When it’s been such a bloody long while!”
Tag: orgasm
Cherry blossom time
Cherry popped… and, of course, she’d survived!
They both laughed a bit, joked and high-fived.
“Did you come?”
She said “Yes,
And I guess, more or less,
If I ain’t coming still, I’ve arrived!”
Le petit mort
When she came, she came over all sickly;
Her eyes rolled up… “God!” she said thickly.
“I thought I might die!
That was great! Could you try…?
Can you…? Fuck! It all happened too quickly!”
Come again?
Socks and jocks, panties, all in a jumble,
They progressed from fumble to tumble.
She came loud and long…
Then passed out! What was wrong?
“Fucking awesome!” was all she could mumble.
Bold as brass
Giggling, brazen, she’d shamelessly flirted,
But then became quite disconcerted;
His cock, in her hand,
Seemed to throb and expand,
And great gobs of stuff suddenly squirted!
The balance of evidence
She made love with commendable zeal;
What’s more, too, to judge by her squeal,
Her twitching and such,
And her cunt’s spastic clutch,
When she came, it was possibly real!
Self-education
Fingers flying and moaning, heart drumming,
Her pearly young clitoris thrumming,
Yes! Yes! No, not quite!
She at last got it right,
And was gushingly, blushingly cumming!
Endgame
Flushed and panting, bedraggled, sweat-beaded,
“I’m coming! Don’t stop! Fuck!” she pleaded.
Well, no risk of that!
He kept going, flat chat,
Rather harder, in fact, than was needed.
Fact and fiction
True, her orgasm may have been fake,
(How much noise can one small woman make?)
But her blood-curdling scream
Was legit, it did seem,
When he slipped up her arse by mistake.
A bit jaded
God she’s sick of men! Bloody chartreuse!
Bondage, so-called erotic art, spurs,
All their sick, creepy fun,
Then, their orgasm done,
They roll off, when she’s still to start hers!