The Tavern

In this old town tavern, I'd never been in before,

It's full of big rough men,

All straight from the factory floor,

Drinking too many pints, after their long hard shifts,

A real old boys club,

Before their dark domestic rifts.

I can quickly sense, that here I do not belong,

Lots of hostile glances,

And some stares fierce and long.

The old barman there, was sure friendly enough,

Brought my drink over,

With a jolly smile and a cough.

I really only came in, to go to use the loo,

Have a quick little drink,

While I sort out my spiteful shoe.

I found what they call the ladies, single and small,

All a bit grim grimy

With graffiti around the wall.

I dare sit down, for my very desperate pee,

And read the harsh words,

That are all surrounding me.

Rude and explicit, they more than imply,

And is that a sort of camera,

Up in the corner there to spy?

But I just don't know, what could be in that drink,

I should scream and complain,

But I'm all too dizzy just to think.

Instead I find, that I am feeling oh so so hot,

I start stripping off my clothes,

Until I've discarded the whole lot.

I'm sat naked and exposed, feeling so very weird,

I'm touching myself over,

Like my fingers are being steered.

My mind says I'm out there, up on their viewing stage,

A intimate play for the audience,

Of rampant masculine rage.

There I must be so brazen, and ever more feline wild,

A performing lioness,

Devouring my inner child,

And I edge so dangerously, to my inevitable squirting doom,

Teetering to my feminine,

Redecoration of the room.

In my ringing head, of pure and utter bliss,

I hear the crowd cheer,

When I spray my orgasmic piss.

The room feels spinning, and I've lost all sense of time,

My vagina pleads guilty,

For further indecent finger crime.

Almost fisting myself silly, and rubbing my clitoris  fast,

I cannot help make such noise,

Squealing until my drench is cast.

The rowdy applause dies, and I gather up my dress,

I fight to get it half worn,

And my hair is a disheveled mess.

A long confused search, finds my far flung balcony bra,

But my knickers are in hiding,

To become a trophy over the bar.

I unlock the toilet door, with a click that jolts so loud,

And I stagger back to my seat,

Through the lustful jeering crowd.

I then seem surrounded, and rough hands all start to roam,

Pawing over my chest,

As they insist on taking me home.

The dress is pulled aside, and my breasts are set bare,

Ripe nipples twisted stiffly,

To the cacophony of voices there.

And I am lifted up, like a feather to these trades,

Fingers rove between my legs,

In a piracy of exploring raids.

From all the noise around me, making out just the odd phrase,

A big juicy whore for pleasure,

To be hogtied up for days.

Only the next thing, that I can certainly recall,

In the cold outside air,

Being carried like a fireman's haul.

And we corner loiter, for a white van await,

Compliant on the stored matress?

Driven away for my sordid gang fate.