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Woodshed
Visitin' the woodshed on the ol' farmstead.
Thoughts in overdrive, whispers remain unsaid.
Pouts her face, tries puppy dog eyes.
Not this time naughty girl, not for those lies.
Door is closed and panic sets in.
It's about to get real, leather on skin.
Eyes darting everywhere, intent on escape.
Pants and panties removed, she hides her shape.
Hand begins to chastise, cheeks blushing red.
Puts up a fight as head fills with dread.
Oiled strap hanging awaiting it's turn.
To caress a bottom with it's blistering burn.
Bent across the saddle, bottom in the air.
Leather ravaging cheeks, she suffers her share.
Slumping in defeat, outcome no longer in doubt.
Plots her next prank with a smirk and a pout. |
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