Born like that

So I’ve got a tiny streak of harlot in me,
So what.
I was born that way.

Most will never know the depths of my perversion,
Or the pleasures it elicits.
Like I said, I was born that way.

If only my thong panties could talk,
God what a story that would be,
She would say she was born that way too.

Would she discuss my shaved cunt
Or the ever-present wetness,
Born of the everyday monotony.

Would she discuss my throbbing clit
And the silent pleas it mouths
Like a hungry tummy.

No, she keeps her mouth shut,
Like a good pussy
Because she was born that way.

And that tiny scrap of material that rests between my legs,
The one I soak everyday,
That is my tiny streak of Harlot, though maybe not so tiny,
But she can’t help it; She was born that way.