ISOBEL, OR NOT JUST NICE GIRLS LOVE A SAILOR

(Originally entered in Erotic Poem/Short Story Imagination Stimulation competition.)  
 
From popular song "Ship Ahoy" (1909):  
 
"All the nice girls love a sailor,  
All the nice girls love a 'tar';  
For there's something about a sailor -
And you know what sailors are..."  
 
Drinking Friday night alone at a sea front hotel,  
I got chatting to a woman, was named Isobel.  
Young as I then was I thought she was about thirty,  
With her maturer curves and a manner so flirty.  
In her pretty, cleavage-showing, frock, she had me hooked,  
I could not help but praise the glam way that she looked.  
By the time the bar closed we entered into a bond  
Of light-hearted affection for which my ego longed.  
I was single, having being ditched by my last girlfriend  
When I was on naval ops HMG did me send.  
 
I had been faithful to that girl, no playing around,  
But she was seeing another man on the go, I found.  
When I look back, I was a young man on the rebound,  
More than ripe for the next welcome woman to be found.  
In the drink-warmed atmosphere of sin, fun and delight  
I told her, "THESE ships are too good to pass in the night",  
As I glanced at the partly exposed, well-rounded pair  
Of breasts, so tempting for me to handle, then and there.  
She looked into me and noddingly winked a blue eye;  
"Yes", she agreed, with a hand subtly squeezing my thigh.  
 
Her under-table hand's touching just stirred my penis;  
She had fired her first shot in the next war of Venus.  
I wasn't wanting marriage, I just wanted a fling;  
Prospects looked more promising when I could see no ring.  
When she told me that her own room was three floors above,  
I offered to escort her, she commanded my love.  
As we left the bar, I'm sure, the barmaid was winking  
At me as if she psychically knew my thinking.  
Chatting and hand holding, we walked, then ran up the stairs,  
Having by then lost sober inhibitions and cares.  
 
We reached the door of her room, she invited me in,  
Smiling as if not thinking that it might be a sin.  
I leaned on her shoulders as she put the key in the door,  
Wondering what sights the room had for me in store.  
We embraced for some kisses and a quick, close caress,  
When I noticed - she had nothing on under her dress!  
I said, grinning: “No knickers, no bra – this is naughty!”  
She replied wickedly “I'm not at school, I'm forty -  
But I am a woman who's still proud of her body.  
I spent some time today on a beach in the noddy.”  
 
“You tart!” I jested, with a grip and slap on her wrist.  
“No, I am not”, she countered, “I am a naturist.  
Take a look at me now...would you like to see much more?”  
When my ‘Yes’ came out, her unzipped dress dropped to the floor.  
She completed the bareness throwing off her red shoes  
And put away her necklace, saying "This I won't lose!"  
Her blonde locks tumbled down as she put off the hair grip,  
She flicked them to the front so they brushed upon each nipp.  
The dressing table mirror duplicated my view  
Of her; we faced front to front but I glimpsed her back too.  
 
The tattoo of a red heart on her right shoulder blade  
Was the only thing left on her that wasn't God made.  
When she slightly stepped back, her buttocks did appear  
In the glass; tempted to grab them again, I stepped near  
But she held out a palmed hand, urging me 'Take it slow!'-  
Pressing at my chest - "When you cross a road, you look, then go!"  
I took in all her glory, a vision of an Eve,  
To see her in the flesh it was so hard to believe;  
Her body polished light brown with an all-over tan.  
I felt both the world’s luckiest and wickedest man.  
 
At that sight of Isobel unashamed in the buff  
I could not get myself butt naked quickly enough;  
Without fig leaves the sight of her neat, trim pubic hair  
Became my silent signal to “Sailor, get in there!”  
The fire of desire in my heart continued to burn  
More strongly now; I was at the point of no return.  
I furtively reached in my back pocket for the sheath  
I took with me in case I got lucky underneath.  
I asked if she would like an uninterrupted view  
Of my PT honed muscles and my latest tattoo.  
 
Accepting my offer, she helped me out of my clothes.  
We again kissed, fondling each other from heads to toes.  
My manhood got rising, my skin hot and red.  
Unspeaking, unfettered, we dived into her bed,  
Having slipped the rubber sheath on my manly pole  
Before I totally forgot about birth control.  
Releasing all my pent-up, post-break-up frustration:  
I forgot all my past as we "shagged" for the nation.  
We lived for the moments of bodily union  
As, like rabbits on the Common, we got off and on.  
 
We jigged about, thrusted, nuzzled, contorted and rolled  
Until we were both satisfied, then we slept out cold,  
When, like battleship cannon, I'd fired off all my load  
While in return she did orgasmically explode.  
We got rudely woken up at twenty-five past four  
By some uneasy knocking upon the bedroom door.  
Another fair voice called: “Isobel, let me in now!”  
Then - “Oh, you've got a man with you, you dirty bitch cow!”  
At that point we were loosely, front to front embraced  
Under disarrayed bedclothes, her head to my chest placed.  
 
Our loins were still close, but my erection subsided;  
At that disturbance we stirred, faces near collided.  
Isobel cussed, then said: "You've gotta get dressed and go!  
It’s my sister - we share the room, should have let you know!”  
Disturbed, I moaned “You should have had it in your thinking!”  
She pled, “Babe, don’t quarrel – after all we'd been drinking!”  
After the fastest wash and dress up I’d ever done,  
And one parting peck from her, out of the room I'd gone.  
I passed by the sister, my naval rig she had seen:  
I heard "DON'T PICK UP SAILORS, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY'VE BEEN!"  
 
(For uninitiated "HMG" means "His/Her Majesty's Government", the Royal Navy's employer.)