The Edge

At the edge of her excitement,
Lie the thoughts that she may find
In the minds of favoured others;
Whenever she's inclined
To surrender to a moment;
And the instance is quite right,
For a girl to squirm and wriggle,
In the middle of the night;
She's like to be a gushing faucet:
She'll just drip until all's wet;
And she'll find a fiend to force it,
So the sweetheart won't forget:
Her excitement forms a frenzy,
When her orgasm's denied,
She'll have to beg just to extend the
Sheer pleasure that's supplied,
When she's waiting, tense and eager,
And she is perched on a thin ledge,
On the mountain where she needs, sir,
That soft push over the edge.