In the Brush

The undergrowth is full of anxious noise
Because I’m fucking my pet in the brush;
She’s on her hands and knees as she deploys
Her hindquarters enticingly; the lush
And verdant vegetation will protect
The girl from scrutiny; let those ensconced
In villas in the valley not expect
To hear her caterwaul as a response
To thrusting in her nether parts, as I
Take full advantage of her luscious rear
And surge in, on the hillside, to supply
A sharp spank to her bottom; she can tear
Up, while each far threshold is a point
Of light for she’s the cunt that I’ll anoint.