Speckling

The hawthorn's grey is speckled with new green
The slut is speckled with sir's cum and spit;
Strung up amidst the branches - it's obscene?
For you to know she's rather loving it?

The hawthorn's branches will soon be in bud;
The slut is opening too with every thrust;
Forget all deep emotion - she will flood
Around sir's cock, because she knows she must;

Nature's never barren and the dead
Of winter comes alive to find that spring
Is just around the corner - sluts give head
To cleanse their masters; let the prurient sing.

There's recompense for taste buds that feel numb
Once they've tasted the specks of spit and cum...