A Love of Foxgloves

The foxgloves may be creamy, but her cunt:
It is far creamier; for, it's been filled:
From dusk until first light, it's borne the brunt
Of thrusts. Throughout the night, her master's spilled
His come into her tightness several times;
And she has sucked it all up eagerly,
You'd think she was quite wanton; see: the slime's
Just sliding down her inner thigh, to be
Scooped up upon his finger and, then, pressed
Into her tight backside, where it can ooze
Into her passage, for he has expressed
A wish to fuck her rear; and she can't choose
The moment when he'll take his foxy bitch
And use her, like that glove, to cure his itch.