Making the Bard Roll Over In His Grave
As once upon a time she read, Willow,
Witch with hair of red,
Did rest her cheek upon yon pages and
Her mind did ponder upon the ages.
In this land of dreams and ‘morrows,
She did see both laughs and sorrows.
When she woke, her memories be like muddy toast.
But remember, there will always be a bloody ghost.
“Ah fair maiden, I be seeing,
How do you, with no pants sunning,
Fend off such many advances,
And thy buttocks, all men stunning,”
Xander did say in one small garden,
Speaking to a young comely maiden.
Dawn Marie Summers, for all her youth,
Did not look so in her natural tanning booth.
“Ah, 'tis a most great problem,
For yes, I be a most comely maiden,
But mine sister doth protest too much
And thus, I do not get enough,”
The young Dawn did reply,
Sunning nude beneath the sky.
“If you would be so kind, good sir,
I could use much help in mine own pleasure.”
“If only I could, yon pants-less maiden,
And yes, my codpiece is straining,”
Xander did reply,
With a most heavy and troubled sigh.
“If you help me, I could help you,
This I assure, there be much I do,”
Her anticipating grin cemented.
“But alas, if you should touch it,
I most verily fear your sis would cut it.
My Witch friend, though she fear them,
Turn me to a toad, she no doubt would, then.”
“You are no good to me a eunuch,
So after, you wouldst fly to Munich,”
she did suggest as she rose from the towel.
Xander’s eyes did fall on her chest.
From his throat there came a growl,
Like some monster eyeing prey.
His gaze upon her never stray’d.
“I can tell you most assuredly want it.”
“I resist not when you thusly flaunt it.”
Her hands, deft though with no practice,
Did fumble slightly in search of his axis.
He guided her with more skill,
His mind almost beyond his will.
Soon all clothes were shed,
Showing off his rising head.
Xander reached and grasped her thusly,
Pulled her close and kissed her roughly.
Dawn, ‘tis true, showed no sorrow,
Hoping pleasur’d thrusts last ‘til ‘morrow.
She bent and grasped him gently,
Appreciative gasps he did whisper,
Not ready yet, but not flit nor flutter.
Dawn, her grasp grew slicker,
Moving faster, ever faster.
Xander gasped and pulled her upwards,
Burning need causing pain untowards.
Loss of control ever growing;
Where it stopped neither knowing.
None too soon she grant him entrance.
She sheathing sword kept him entranced.
Presently, their thrusts grew harder,
Growing stronger, ever faster.
Needs they sating,
Wanton wills’ full undertaking.
Their lips did touch, flush with pleasure,
Heightened by erotic leisure.
In truth, Control now all forgotten,
As was their need for latex condoms.
With a burst of furious power,
Buffy stepped, wet from shower,
Only to see Xander, Dawn’s true fancy,
And their disregard for VD safety.
Displeasure, clear upon her brow,
As Buffy’s surprise turned to scowl.
Point’d she towards her sister,
Like some dreadful Kansas twister.
Though if she knew that she be quoting,
Is not for knowing by you nor me,
“Dawn Marie, get thee to a nunnery.” Upon the second day,
Willow slept, not on bed nor couch nor mattress.
But again upon the tomes,
Morpheus arms did change her minds,
‘Til all friends come again at last.
I don't own Shakespeare nor doth I claim ownership of Buffy.
But this is my new experiment. I'll be testing the waters with this as it was noted by one of my friends that I've never written a 21+ fic (and as I protest, this be due to the fact that I suck at it, pun not intended). As such, I'll be playing with this idea for a while.
And I'll warn yee, I'm rather bad at poetry.