Whorehouse Prostitute
By Piper
Silken panties black as Satan's heart, Bodice of lace and golden filigree, Waiting with legs spread far apart She lays down upon plump pillows Watching for his grand entrance, Her corset tight around her waist, She drifts into a mind stunning trance Her boredom is so pronounced. He appears and smells of beer, Walking in with a swagger Drunkenly grinning from ear to ear Disrobing a piece at a time as he enters The slovenly pigman grunts and rolls, Stinking of sweat and desire She cannot resist she well knows, She plays along with him and moans, Oh, baby, oh, baby do it to me! She wails into the deep night, As he pokes and probes holding her knees, Pumping harder, faster, deeper. Finally he rolls away from her Exhausted and spent from his efforts. Her gratitude is enormous and pure As she pulls on whatever is near. Without any acknowledgement or sound He rises and dresses his fat body, Turns and tosses a bill on the ground And leaves as he had come in. Heartache and loss of what she knows not Flood over her as she bends down To pick up the money he dropped, Shedding tears, she drops to her knees. Begging for a change in this life, God, please. Written March 11th, 2002 © on Mar 11 2002 06:24 AM PST 0 • 16
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"Silken panties black as Satan's heart,..."