by Peter Loaf
The coachman driving, the coastal road
His musket centered, the driver’s nose
The carriage curtains, the girl inside
High on the headland, the driving rain
Hand bound and naked, hoodwinked to boot
Ninety feet rocky, the crashing surf
Pussy rip thrusting, facing her doom
Panic and passion, perched on the edge
The code discovered, the war is won .
The horses winded, hauling their load
The storm clouds threaten
The sun is settin’
A soldier waiting, the secret code
The brake he’s pulling, his terror shows
The rain drops splatter
It doesn’t matter
The musket booming, flopping death throes
Her pistol popping, buzzing beside
Highwayman dragging
Hoodwink for bagging
Stripped of her clothing, taken for ride
Lashed over saddle, his ropes detain
Her secret mission
Total submission
The bait is taken, struggles in vain
Noose on her windpipe, uncaring brute
On knees positioned
With great precision
Head bag removing, top of the butte
Highwayman holding, edge of the turf
Captor disrobing
His pecker probing
His power complete, she is his serf
His pecker stretching, gates of her womb
Her will he’s breaking
Her secrets taking
Passion storm coming, the thunder’s boom
Her hipbones creaking, his meaty wedge
Gripping his phallus
Feeling his malice
Her secrets spilling, breaking her pledge
His captive keeping, his fount of fun
Proud beauty broken
His furnace stokin’
Subbie lust lover, the best bar none
