Just a roll in the hay, a quick tumble;
Some rub and tug, wild grope and fumble,
Bare buttocks and thighs;
No false promises, lies;
A good root though… A girl shouldn’t grumble!
Tag: root
Cluster-fuck
It was quite fun, she mused retrospectively;
Each had his merits respectively.
Just to be cute,
“God! I’d love a good root!”
She’d exclaimed, but not meant it collectively.
Begging the question
She was pretty one couldn’t refute,
But the question, of course, remained moot;
Would she spurn a man’s love?
And when push came to shove,
If asked nicely enough, would she root?
Making a virtue of necessity
Well of course she resisted at first,
Having felt she’d been rather coerced,
But then, much as she had,
She thought “This ain’t so bad.
As roots go, in fact, far from the worst!”
His lucky day
Might they root? It remained to be seen.
He was nice, and he seemed to be keen.
Since she’d flirted a bit,
Even showed him some tit,
Not to fuck him would be a bit mean!
Short shrift
Young Kathleen Jones was heard to lament,
(A small act of religious dissent),
“God! What’s wrong with these men?
For a root now and then
I’d quite gladly confess and repent!”
The colonialist
He’d seen Bombay, the East and West Indies,
Screwed black girls, and yellow, and Hindis,
All nice, in their way,
Best to root, though, he’d say,
Sultan’s wives, wearing naught but their bindis!
Love, approximately
Said a saucy victorian doxy,
“I’m sorry milord, but I’m poxy.
Though, tell you what, mister,
Why not root my sister?
I’ll watch, You can fuck me by proxy!”
An eerie silence
As he said to his mate, “Well, I guess
I can’t swear that she ever said yes,
Being, you know, deaf-mute,
But she was a great root!
Still, a bloke might be jailed for less!”
Playing the odds
Since she hadn’t, in fact, said no, yet;
Since her pussy, he knew, was so wet;
Since she’d given him head,
And lay nude on his bed,
She was up for a root, yeah, no sweat!