Her Crimson Blush

She feels as if her crimson flush, called up
By vexation and her embarrassment,
Together with her hasty crawl, would strut
Across her cheeks forever; and cement
Her reputation as an ingénue;

She held her head down till her neck was touched;
Connection made her look up, but she screened
Her movement in his shadow, lest too much
Was placed on show and she might be demeaned
By commentaries a man's wont to spew;

The moment that he caught her eye, he bowed
With something of a stiff, triumphant air;
And she, twice shamed at how he looked so proud
Of his tormenting, could not meet his stare,
But looked away and gazed out at the view;

She felt provoked and bent her head so low,
That he might well imagine she returned
His compliments with her delicate brow
Hidden from view again, as her cheeks burned;
And she sought shelter others would eschew:

The shelter at his feet, where she would kneel
And find the heated warmth, as she exchanged
Her modesty for animal appeal,
And she unzipped her master and arranged
Him sweetly in her mouth; and gently blew

His cock, that hardened slowly between lips
That were now eager and conspicuous
In how they wrapped his prick; and how the tips
Of fingers on his balls were such a plus
That he came quickly; and his sticky dew

Was splashed across her face - a diamond rain
That made her quite forget all of her doubts
And her misgivings - let him come again
But this time in her cunt and let his shouts
And grunts and groans ensure that she'd renew

Acquaintance with the man and with the cock
That she was so beholden to, of course,
And let him fuck her where he chose, her stock
May well have fallen, but magnetic force
Of his harsh usage compensated too.

And she would smile, when he was really done,
With utmost grace and affability;
She was his slut; so let him have his fun
That she keenly enjoyed; let others see
Her crimson blush recalled, but this time true.