Pamela was a princess
Prim and proper was her style
Perfection made her smile.
She knew the proper people
Played polo (always won)
Putting people in their places
Was Pam’s idea of fun.
Her suitor, Peter Perrin
(A prick who drove a Porsche)
Professed to be a pilot
A perfect one of course.
Now, Peter thought he’d pulled the wool
Across Pam’s pretty eyes
But from Pamela’s perspective
It was she who’d picked the prize.
His pretensions Pam found pointless
She wasn’t partial to his prattle
But the profile of his leather pants
Had piqued her interest in his tackle.
Pete took her on a picnic
Some pleasantries were passed
And after pate and a spot of port
He paused to make a pass.
Pam’s pulse had started pumping
And she pleaded with her eyes
“Please perpetrate some passion
Between these precious thighs.”
The proportions of Pete’s penis grew
He could feel himself get plumper
He thought, “Pam’s perfect little honey-pot
I probably will plunder.”
The pair’s passion overpowered them
Improper urges grew defiant
And Pete became more rampant
As Pam became more pliant.
With pinafores and petticoats
And scruples pushed aside
Pete placed her in position
Pam’s eyes and legs all opened wide.
As she groped for Peter’s package
Pam was pleasantly surprised
For what her palm had wrapped around
Appeared to be of princely size.
Pamela gripped his pubic probe
And coyly pouted with her lips
“I’ll need some preparation
Prior to partaking all of this.”
Despite his disappointment
(His own priorities seemed superior)
To protect his reputation
He passed on pretending not to hear her.
So, with purpose, Pete decided
That his partner he would pamper
And prior to penetration
She would, hopefully, be damper.
With a peck upon her pretty neck
Our protagonist crept lower
Past nipples, pert and perky
Towards that perfect, perfumed flower.
Presently, at her pelvis
Pete paused and peeked, amused
And passed a pithy compliment
On Pam’s neatly clippered pubes.
Apparently quite speechless
Swept up with passion and with pride
Between her gasping and her panting
Pam whispered an aside.
“Ppput your lips upon my special place”
As she pressed on Peter’s head
And despite his plans to probe her
Pete was pleased at what Pam said.
So, poised at Pamela’s portal
With lips appropriately placed
He prepared to give her pleasure
But then pulled a puzzled face.
“There’s paper there” he spluttered
Unprepared for what he spied
For perched upon Pam’s pink bits
Despite Pam’s personal pride.
A patch of perfumed paper
(Of leaping porpoises design)
Remained from a previous patting
That pesky piece was left behind.
Poor Pam was apoplectic
Her painful shame complete
She pitied her own repulsiveness
In front of princely Pete.
“I’ve got paper on my pee-pee!”
“My shame is palpable I fear.”
And pausing only to put her top on
Pam wept a pearly tear.
Poor Pamela departed
Apace (that’s pretty fast)
Leaving Pete to ponder
What perversions might have passed.
So up Pete popped and plodded off
In quite a plaintive plight
“There’ll be no plunging for my python now -
Perhaps a monkey-spanking night.”
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.