“Get her panties off. That’s half the battle!
Don’t waste time on small talk and prattle.”
His brother advised.
“While she’s actin’ surprised,
Fuck her hard, buddy, make her teeth rattle!”
Tag: panties
Moving on
Once the mob had begun to disperse,
She lay, thinking… it could have been worse.
She’d been gang-banged. Not good.
Scrap the panties (you would),
But she still had her phone and her purse.
A bit Irish
“Put yer panties back on, ya big sook!
Ain’t no harm in just havin’ a look!”
He said. “I showed ya mine!
Ya don’t want a root? Fine!
Fook off then! I don’t give a damn fook!”
Taking the hint
Her lace knickers, so flimsy and scanty,
Not panties quite, more just a panty,
And all that she wore!
He must fuck her, he swore!
(Which, of course, she would not have been anti!)
Lies and damn lies
Her predicament grew rather dire:
His hand up her dress, moving higher!
“Oh Jesus!” she cried,
Panties tugged to one side.
“I’ll just put in the tip.” Bloody liar!
Tedium
Bored and horny, she lounged about idly,
Blouse gaping, her thighs parted widely;
He looked up, a glance.
“Better put on some pants,
Or your cunt might catch cold,” he said snidely.
Waste not, want not
The poor girl! Passed out, pissed as a newt!
Panties showing. Those tits! She’s damn cute.
She’s so cheeky and flirty,
She wouldn’t get shirty,
He hoped, if he slipped her a root.
In the back seat, in a country lane
She’d run out of excuses, essentially.
Now she’d get rooted, potentially,
There in his car,
Down to panties and bra,
But he dropped off to sleep, providentially.
Something askew
A good-time girl, not one to eschew
A few drinks, an anonymous screw,
Although many a night,
When she got home, she might
Lack her panties, perhaps, or one shoe.
Sex education for Catholics
Then her mother said “Mind my words, Brigid.
Men’s pricks are always halfway rigid.
Don’t go tempting fate;
Once it’s done, it’s too late!
Keep your panties on, act like you’re frigid.”