Fledgling

She’s so nervous, he thinks, all on edge…
Pussy barely beginning to fledge…
Wispy thatch of blonde fluff…
Young, but quite old enough…
He works in the thick end of his wedge.

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!