Beds To Make

She has a lot of beds to make tomorrow,
She lies in one of them, her thighs spread wide.
It's neither to her chagrin nor her sorrow,
You have not come, although you'd slip inside.
Tomorrow, she'll have sheets to wash quite clean,
So, will she smile to see the strange-shaped stains?
Remembering just how you made her cream,
Each shape: a recollection of your pains.
Come morning, she will have a lot to do,
Changing the pillows there beneath her hips,
So, make it worth her while: please won't you
Just turn her; fuck her hard; spread her cunt lips;
Be rigorous; enjoy, for goodness sake,
Tomorrow, she's a lot of beds to make.