How much more such delight could she bear?
Not to know, and in fact not to care,
Though a little perplexed,
Where he rooted her next;
In her mouth or her cunt or elsewhere!
Tag: rooted
Hard to please
Though she tried hard to please, did her utmost,
He called her a slut, but what cut most
Was not what he said,
But that though she gave head
And liked sex, he still fancied her butt most!
Spare the rod, spoil the child
Same old story, sad, commonplace, sordid;
Drunk, rooted, her clothing disordered,
In such sorry state,
When she staggered home, late,
Her dad thrashed her! Thus virtue’s rewarded.
Detour
They had sex every Thursday, which suited…
She’d dressed… but his ardour rebooted…
She mildly protested
But, easily bested,
Was soon unzipped, stripped and rerooted!
Maiden voyage
Dashing officers, seamen to boot!
Scoundrels all, by delicious repute!
On a girl’s maiden voyage,
Fuck fingers and toyage!
She’d get herself rooted, enroute!
Horoscope
Pisces, Virgo, their stars were aligned,
So they rooted. Love’s after all blind!
That particular night
It just seemed sort of right,
To just fuck, and she didn’t much mind.
Moot point
She could be quite a tart, when it suited,
Straight-faced, sotto voce, she mooted…
If dinner went well…
Why, a girl couldn’t tell…
She might not mind, perhaps, being rooted.
The adventurer
Not for him scotch or gin, but Campari;
He’d just returned home from safari,
Done China, Japan,
And declared, man to man,
He’d once rooted that girl, Mata Hari!
No illusions
Fucking’s fucking, she thought, crude and graceless,
That romance crap totally baseless.
When in the right mood
She quite liked being screwed,
Though the men that she rooted were faceless.
Familiarity V contempt
Yes, he’d rooted her (rather delightful),
To show that he could, (which was spiteful),
To prove her a slut,
Which he had, of course, but
They were sort of in love, which was frightful!