Mrs. Smith
I truly love you, Mrs. Smith,
Your each and every feature.
I know my feelings are all wrong
'Cause you're my English teacher but
It seems to me, from what you say
And sometimes what you do,
That even though you know it's wrong
You share those feelings too.

I sometimes see you glance at me
Out from behind your book.
And when I glance right back at you
It's more than just a look. It's more
A fiery, rampant, lustful glare,
Your eyes like golden coins.
I start to feel a stirring in
My prepubescent loins.

I want you there! I want you then!
Who cares for social scruples?
I'd gladly bang you on the desk
In front of all the pupils but
You're right. It's not the time nor place
For such things to occur.
But there's a girl right next to me.
Instead I'll finger her.

The things I'd like to do to you
I really should not mention.
But let's just say, if I was bad
And wound up in detention I'd
Be there at 3, right on the dot
And sitting at the front,
To try and look right up you skirt
And see your lovely, glistening, well-maintained thatch.

Alas, I fear these fantasies
Will only act as fuel for
My dreams, although I'm big and strong
And I'm hung like a mule because
Although I'm fairly grown up and
I know what shagging is,
It isn't gonna happen soon;
I'm still too young to jizz!
(stusut79, Thu 11 Aug 2005, 17:09, Reply)