To get on, she’d dress sexy and flirt,
For a laugh, cautious, always alert.
She just had a strong feeling,
Once through the glass ceiling,
The bastards would look up her skirt!
Tag: skirt
Peep-show
Giggling, drunk, a bit drowsy and noddy,
She sprawled in the chair. A nice body.
Her skirt had slipped up,
One breast out of its cup.
Bloody nice, and her arse wasn’t shoddy.
An enterprising lad
Private parts not yet fully revealed,
Convinced, though, she’d pretty soon yield,
Right hand up her skirt,
His left under her shirt,
He pressed on… “Oooh! You’re naughty!” she squealed.
Skirting the issue
The girl’s skirt’s altogether too short;
Her breasts lack any means of support.
Has she no thought, or dread,
In her pretty young head,
Of the risk with which such dress is fraught?
It's a chill wind
As he hitched up her skirt hem, she laughed,
“Oh! My goodness! A sudden cold draft!”
The breeze ruffled the hair
On her never-mind-where,
Which he parted forthwith, with his shaft!
The eyes have it
Though she’d only just recently met him,
She knew that she’d never forget him;
His mouth, his dark eyes,
His strong hands on her thighs,
When he’d lifted her skirt, and she’d let him!
Wearing the pants
He said “That’s it, my pretty young friend;
Squeeze your tits, pout your lips. Good! Now bend;
You can take off your shirt,
But just lift up your skirt,
And present your appropriate end!”
Debriefing
He was anxious to know if it hurt,
As she hitched up her knickers and skirt.
“Well, a bit, just at first,
When I thought that you’d burst
My insides,” she said, smoothing her shirt.
Bottoms up!
For a girl, she could handle her grog,
Till she passed out, and slept like a log.
When she rolled up her eyes,
Her skirt rucked up her thighs,
He thought “Fuck it! Why not, you sly dog?”