It was not her short dress that appealed
Nor even the charms it revealed
The thing that I find
Occupying my mind
Is the part that it barely concealed!
Tag: short dress
Don’t be home late
“There’s not much to that dress that you’re wearing,”
Her mother said mildly, forbearing.
“Almost… more exact…
Notwithstanding the fact
That I’m rather past bloody well caring.”
Ahem!
Were her dress just an inch or two higher,
He thought, and began to perspire,
He might, perhaps, see,
If she moved her left knee,
Just a glimpse … Oh! The pain of desire!
The bridge club
Though her husband was rich and adoring,
She found married life rather boring.
She’d cruise in her car,
In a short dress, no bra,
Or drop into some bar, do some whoring!
On the market
No damn bra, short dress, strap off her shoulder,
Lip gloss, pancake rouge, pout and smoulder!
Mouth spray, condoms, key,
Cigarettes, fake ID.
In the right light, she’ll pass for much older!
Impressed
Nice tight dress, and low-cut; dressed to kill!
The snug fit caused her big breasts to spill.
The thigh-high centre slit
Straining, ready to split;
“If she bends down,” her boss guessed, “it will!”