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Click hereI wish that I could take tea with you
Or let's drink beer at the King’s Head?
But I just get thirsty whilst driving to you
And take swigs of Pure Volvic instead.
I'd so like to go for a meal with you
Or picnic on a large tartan rug.
I’d like to have hours of foreplay with you.
I get fingered and a rather rushed hug.
I wish that I could eat al fresco with you
Have Sancerre and strawberries and sex
But I suck Polos, proffer Wet Wipes and small talk
Whilst you comb your hair, zip up and reflect.
I’d love to meet at a Premier Inn
And whisper and smirk at Reception
I’d so love to fuck you in the middle of the day
For I thrive on the secret deception.
I long to spend a whole night with you
With kisses and wild sexy tumbles.
Yet I'm lucky to get thirty minutes with you
With misgivings, with mud and with mumbles.
But you're married and I’m only the Mistress -
And it isn’t my right to stake claims
So next Thursday – one thirty? Let’s tryst in our field
You know we both love playing games.
Just to be able to have a paltry thirty minutes! Mind you, there is a lot you can do in just that amount of time. I doubt if you need me to tell you what, but if in doubt give me a call and I'll tell you.
I love ALL your poems,Lady C. You must have a high sex-drive to write the way you do. Either that, or your poems are actually dedicated to some person whom you never mention. Have you someone "on the side"? I wonder.
It is great to see you back again, Lady C. I would dearly love to give you more than five marks, although I had better not say in public what I would like to give you, but measured in inches and not marks.
Only the Mistress? Darling, you are much more than that. Yet, being the Mistress (or the male equivalent) is not a perfect role. This poem does drive home the point that illicit passions can be so powerful yet frustrating.