Perfume and stink

Perfumed pillows

Her pillow smells divine, he has made sure
He scattered petals on the pale linen,
She'd rather scent the man who's at the core
Of heart and mind and now, at the beginning
Of this long night, when she would hold him close,
And press him to her breast to test his mettle,
Inhaling all she needs, do you suppose
That he can get away with every petal
From every flower that he could ever pluck?
When she has such strong feelings; yes her soul
Is calling to him, will she be in luck?
Or must she be content with blooms he stole
From moonlit gardens where he spent the time
Making so sure her pillows smelt divine.

Stinky pillows

Her pillow smells divine, when he has come
And splashed her face and all the pale linen,
She's pleased to taste the man who's at the core
Of heart and mind and now, at the beginning
Of this long night, when she would have him take,
And press his cock within her hard and rough,
Until she's opened wide and he can make
Her press back, with her hair tugged just enough,
And make her keen and cry, while they are stuck
Together in this romp: he'll fill each hole:
Her cunt, her arse, her mouth. She'll get that fuck
That will ensure she sleeps; her restive soul
No longer beguiled by moonlit sex - she's done
Her pillow smells divine, when he has come.