Defloration 
O little virgin, timid as a dove,
Consent today to let me make of you
A fulfilled woman, proud and knowing love
In all its forms. I long to give you new
Feelings and thrills mere opiates can’t match.
Let me caress your hidden secret parts
And turn them to a soft and lovely patch
That my hard spade can dig with loving arts.

And when I meet the gate that sits across
The burrow that I seek to stretch and fill.
Then I will rage and ram and butt until
I gather force to pluck the fleshly weed
And cause a fire to bloom among your moss
And plow your garden with my liquid seed.

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