When Your Loved One Is A ScreamerbySapphos Sister©
There’re folk, I swear, in Bangalore
Who claim they heard you cum,
And others (not just three or four)
Who feared it was a bomb.
Now, darling, whilst we all may plead
The odd orgasmic yell,
It’s irksome when your cries exceed
The hundredth decibel.
Thighs splayed before me as I knelt,
Back pressed against the shelf,
I realise how good it felt
(I’ve done it to myself).
But witnessing your frenzied throes,
The horror of it struck me
As the anguished screaming rose
With ‘fuck me, Fuck Me! FUUUUCK ME!!!!’
Do you imagine our dear queen
In moments of high passion
Writhes there mouthing such obscene
Oaths in porn star fashion?
No! I imagine she displays
A regal, seemly flushing,
And, sighing softly, ne’er betrays
More than a modest blushing.
Like her, when you first feel it grip
(Perhaps your pussy’s tinglish),
Preserve a stiffened upper lip
Since, after all, you’re English.
This self-restraint will doubtless curb
My shameless, cum-crazed fusspot
And make sure that we don’t disturb
The others at the bus stop!