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!
Tag: orgasm
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!
Aftershock
Though her pussy had taken a battering,
Still, at her age, it was flattering;
He, so damn young,
So impressively hung!
And her orgasm! Bloody earth-shattering!
The naive and sentimental lover
There’s this thing about screwing I hate;
When she comes, starts to moan and gyrate,
Getting off on my prick.
I’m like, what’s with this chick?
Be my guest! Come some more, while I wait!
Not faking it
She went pale, cold, body aquiver.
His cock seemed to reach to her liver!
She raved like a loon,
Then fell into a swoon,
Eyes rolled up, as she came like a river!
Ensnared
Whether tricked or seduced or ensnared,
At this point she no longer damn cared…
If he stopped now she’d die …
She came then, with a cry!
And just think… she might well have been spared!
Libidinous angst
She woke up, panting, coming, hot, screaming!
Alone! Had she only been dreaming?
No something more literal!
Visceral! Clitoral!
Living, and being, not seeming!