Nineteen To Thirty-Three

She asked for a date,
And now we fornicate,
Against her nineteen-year-old belly I move,
Like a boy of twenty,
Listening to her coo,
Twice a week is her do.

I press against her breasts of twenty-seven years,
She has overcome most of her fears,
As I bring her to tears and elated cheers,
Whenever we can I am her man.

I ride on her thirty-three year old rock hard ass,
Exposing lewd passions she is denied,
In a mounting tide,
Nasty and very married,
She loves to have sex with an odd older guy,
Once a week is our treat.

Her twenty-two year old hourglass body,
Matched by her slender hourglass legs,
No oil does her knees need,
She loves to hinge on top of me,
Swaying like a graceful willow,
Blown by the winds of passion,
I am her weekend fashion.

The greatest difficulty I have,
In my latter middle years,
Is keeping their name's straight,
As we copulate.