screaming and cumming, by I.N. Bawls

[Anonymous No.14262789]

They seek her in the rushes by putting one ear to the ground,
and they determine where she's staying tonight by the lusty sweaty sounds
of when she's being fucked by Thomas and being carved apart by Ned
and not a lusty sweaty screaming but a moaning from her bed,
"oh fucketh me more harder, steward (and) groomsman I've procured,"
she sings, "for verily thence my Lordship willst be cannoning down the door!
He'll shout and complain oh most hotly that I'm being sewn with oats,"
says Tom, "but it was him who paid us, M'am, for you're a scabby thing with bloats,
for sure, you're scaly and a pox rid gal with cunt a bald from sin,
indeed I pray to Good Saint Nicholas that he spares my ding-a-ling
from beingst infested by the lice that squirm up your legs and tummy
and the open seething stinking sores across your face and cunny."

Now his Lordship rests an idle with both hands upon the breasts
of the Lady Anna of the Marches and her handmaids burgeoned chest,
his pantaloons now lay unbuttoned and are cooling by the fire
and a trupenny bit and silver dollar have purchased the youthfulness required
oh to keep his fleeting interests with the musky scent of a young girls skirts
and to keep his mind alive the old man chuckles as he flirts
and squeezes just too hard on massive breast to make a handmaid drip
and Lady Anna of the Marches smiles and puts her mouth upon his dick,
and then his Lordship finds himself a screaming not from lust but fright
as his eyes in momentary slip fell upon a portrait of his wife.