Popping Miss Purity

 
 
She was pantily clad to meet me  
but her legs stayed crossed--  
for they were panties of faith  
excruciatingly confined  
in a premarital prison  
thighs gripped by a biblical death lock  
with Jee-sus and phony Mary squatting on the key  
sniggering purgatory and damnation  
upon every cock in the room  
that dared to rise an inch  
 
It was the ultimate chastity belt  
guaranteed to transform  
even the mildest of dudes  
into drooling rabid cunt munchers  
obliged to wank themselves blind  
if they agreed to sign up for the wait  
until the big day arrived  
 
No-one ever did  
but there's nothing like  
the challenge of glass cutter nipples  
that have never been tweaked  
a virgin gash that's never been licked  
or ass cheeks that no-one's slapped yet  
to focus the mind and stimulate desire  
even when no  
really does  
mean  
no  
 
At first  
I considered all manner  
of dirty underhand tricks  
naturally discounting  
the ugliness of brute force  
as I do sincerely value and cherish  
my freedom  
even before sex  
 
So I only thought about  
high octane booze  
heavily disguised with sugar  
or chemical solutions  
administered surreptitiously  
over a candlelit dinner  
but who wants to bone a zombie  
even the most beautiful sack of potatoes  
slumped on the couch  
is never gonna beg you  
for more  
 
Then I read about hypnosis  
it's easier to learn than people think  
a simple matter of technique  
the right subject  
the right suggestions  
the right time  
for a little sleep  
though most importantly  
the senses remain alert  
 
After folding her clothes  
carefully over the chair  
Miss Purity  
drops eagerly on all fours  
my mindless fuck slave  
transformed  
for I am God and she has no choice  
but to worship and obey  
my every word  
 
Whenever I want  
I watch her crucifix  
on its silver chain  
swinging in time to my thrusts  
as her breasts jiggle and bounce  
her juicy forbidden pink  
gloriously open  
only for me  
And while I rejoice  
to the hymn of her moans  
she gushes and burns  
in the best kind of heaven  
always forgetting  
everything we did  
and always waking slowly  
on my count of three