“Well, alright,” she said, “play with my tits,
But no touching the other rude bits!”
His hand strayed, as it would;
She moaned “Fuck being good!
Stick your cock in! Wherever it fits!”
Tag: tits
Lamarckian evolution
Human woman: a curious mammal.
Lips painted, claws shiny enamel,
Tits rather too big,
A cunt shaped like a fig,
Or a clam, or the toe of a camel.
The sap rising
The old girl was still cheeky and spry.
“My tits droop, but my pussy ain’t dry!”
She exclaimed with a grin.
“Go ahead. Stick it in!
Goodness knows, it’s at least worth a try!”
Elasticity of demand
The fuck, frankly, was not that fantastic;
Her big tits turned out to be plastic,
But boy! What a fit!
And he had to admit
She was certainly enthusiastic!
Life is a cabaret
Just a stripper, but quite the artiste,
She kept time with the music, at least.
“Turn it up,” her boss said,
“Show some pussy instead.
Shake them tits too.” Insensitive beast!
Imperfect recollection
Were her panties silk? Maybe just cotton.
Her tits? Were they big? He’d forgotten.
She’d seemed keen enough,
But it must have been bluff.
She’d cried after. He’d felt a bit rotten.
Brevity, the soul of wit
Her short skirt and tight blouse were suggestive;
The men standing round her grew restive.
“Garn! Show us some tit!”
Said one notable wit.
Her sharp glance proved that looks are deceptive.
Through glasses darkly
It’s been said that men never make passes
At girls who wear thick horn-rimmed glasses;
That isn’t right, though,
It comes down, we all know,
To the size of their tits and their arses!
Self discovery
When he fondled her tits and talked smutty,
Her knees sagged, she just went to putty;
She found, to her shock,
As she straddled his cock,
Lurking under her skin someone slutty!
The rhythm of life
Young and innocent, blindly enamoured,
“I l… l… l… love you!” she stammered,
Her tits flapping round,
Her words drowned by the sound
Of her pussy (Thump! Slap!) being hammered!