Dirty Girl

Pure in colour,
dark in deed.
Upon her lips,
miss-spent seed.
Her tender tongue
seeks to sup,
smearing, tasting,
swallowed up.
Dirty girl!
“Next!!” she cries.
Hands immobile
upon her thighs.
Next in line
grips her hair,
pounding, thrusting,
not a care.
An hour’s passed,
she’s had her fun.
Her husband knows not
what she’s done.
She drives back home,
the vicar’s wife,
to her quiet, pure
and sainted life.

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2 thoughts on “Dirty Girl

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