As roots go, it was just mediocre.
But still, the damn practical joker,
He’d have his sly fun…
Pull her dress down when done…
Easy in…out…in… What if he woke her?
Tag: root
If
She should probably root the bloke, shouldn’t she,
Could, if she wanted to, couldn’t she?
Say he’s her first,
(Just a white lie, at worst).
God! She’d make the poor bastard’s day, wouldn’t she!
Making the best of it
Well, she thought, as she lay there, legs spread,
If I’d known where it all might have led…
That’ll teach me to flirt!
Still, a root wouldn’t hurt,
In fact, might be quite nice, when all’s said.
Ripe
Though not quite yet of age, young and prime,
To not root her would seem a damn crime!
Some weeks more, months at worst…
Yet… to be the girl’s first!
It’s, of course, just a matter of time.
A lack of propriety
Mister Beasel, the sweatshop proprietor
Cast a long, lecherous eye at her;
Pretty, deaf-mute,
She’d be lovely to root,
Like the other poor girls, only quieter!
The language of love
She was deaf-mute, poor slut, but could mime…
Lusty hip-thrusts, lewd gestures… sublime!
Splendid titties as well,
Sparkling eyes! Truth to tell,
To not root her had seemed a damn crime!
Animal magnetism
Of finesse he was simply devoid.
She perhaps should have been more annoyed.
Just wham! Bam! The big brute!
A rough, animal root,
She’d surprisingly, though, quite enjoyed!
Marital bliss
Being married, mate, sex is on tap,
His mate said. Lunchtime root, then a nap!
Or, you’re havin’ a drink,
And she’s there, at the sink,
Just say “Oi! Suck my cock, love!” SNAP! SNAP!
Hot stuff
“Look'” she said. “I do like you a lot,
And I’d root you, more likely than not,
Anytime! Anyhow!
Only not just right now.
I’m so shagged, and it’s too bloody hot!”
Her reputation precedes her
She’s a slut, well, according to fable,
Can drink a man under the table!
What’s more, by repute,
She’s a fabulous root,
So he’s hoping she’ll be true to label!