Ode to a Well-Bred Maiden

Ode to a Well-Bred Maiden

"Well-bred girl - to my member if you would,"
Said master to the maiden at his feet,
"For your lips around arousal feel good,
The warmth wrapping the silence is discrete;
Discretion is the better part of valour
And your valour's doing battle with my sword
It's left you almost blushing: there's no palour;
As the faint squeaks indicate you have concurred;
You have my full permission to mouth wrestle
With my serpent of desire. Have your fun.
While you wrestle, I can nestle with my pestle,
My pestle being tressled on your tongue."
If silent laughter leaves the maiden red,
It's because the fulfilled girl is so well-bred.