Witches

Ring of stones,
Witch’s home,
Where, olde magick still held sway.
Gathered throng,
Thirteen strong,
All beautiful and depraved.

You cannot tell,
A witch’s spell,
They whisper men astray,
A subtle ruse
To charm, confuse,
Entice, enchant their prey.

A witch is sly,
A passerby,
Would notice nothing of concern,
For those spellbound
Lewd sights and sound,
They see and hear in turn.

I met the first,
Skilled in verse,
Nubile, with feline poise and grace,
She softly purred,
A charm whispered,
Cunning and wanton-laced.

The second one,
Flirty, fun,
She didn’t utter a single word,
A flirty look,
All it took,
And behold my cock had stirred.

Number three,
Pure fantasy,
Soft curvy luscious breasts,
Saucy pout,
Tits spilled out,
Pleading: squeeze, caress.

Witch number four,
Promised more,
Silky lips that love hard cock,
Rhythmic pace,
From tip to base,
Consuming every milky drop.

The fifth witch
With number six,
The most depraved pair so far,
Offered pleasure,
Both together,
A debauched ménage-a-tois.

The seventh witch,
Come on my tits,
Did, I swear, she say,
But her sultry eyes
So mesmerised,
I would claim that night was day.

Witch number eight,
Calm, sedate,
Wished me a pleasant day,
That sounded like,
She would like,
Every kinky sort of way.

Witch number nine,
Less refined,
She favoured bluntness over guile,
Her derrière,
Lofted where,
T’was Ideal for doggy style.

Witch number ten,
Mother hen,
A mature beauty, ripe proportions,
She hinted to me,
A fantasy,
Of impossibly lewd contortions.

The eleventh witch,
Had an itch,
Metaphorically, she could not scratch,
Could I try,
To satisfy,
Her dripping hot wet snatch?

Witch number twelve,
Cast a spell,
A sensual and seductive dance,
Swaying hips,
And perky tits,
I came right in my pants.

The thirteenth witch,
A sexy bitch,
Gathered her coven one night,
Every witch,
Without a stitch,
Danced naked in the moonlight.

Invited then,
Two score men,
All strong in thought and deed,
Lewd sorcery,
A mass orgy,
To spread their magick seed.

Every gent,
Empty, spent
Collapsed, strewn on the lawn,
The witches thrilled,
Sated, filled,
Their magick, whole, restored.

Ring of stones,
Witch’s home,
Where, olde magick still held sway.
Gathered throng,
Thirteen strong,
All beautiful and depraved.