The Life of a Libertine

She’s moaning: (”She’s primed and ready. I’ll turn off the light.”) She’s groaning: (“Off with her clothing and I’m in tonight!”) She’s shrieking: (“Keep down the noise or the neighbors will hear!”) Bed’s creaking: (“I hope those termites weren’t nibbling here.”) Just some of the sounds, When the girls come around, Simply put, I do it the best. Deep breathing: (“It’s not the size, but the motion, you know.”) I’m seething: (“This one! She always gets off so slow!”) We’re thrashing: (“Yes! This is it! We’re both going to do it!”) Bed’s crashing: (“God damn those termites! They beat me to it!”) Just some of the sounds, When the wives sneak around, Simply put, I do it with zest. She’s scheming: (“Tell me you love me. I’ll leave him for you.”) You’re dreaming: (“I told you before to forget it! We’re through!”) She’s crying: (“Oh God! You’re a bastard! How was I so wrong?!”) I’m sighing: (“Babe, it’s been great. Now I guess it’s so long.”) Just some of the sounds, When I play around. Who cares? I’ll pick from the rest. She’s screaming: (“It’s over! We’re finished! Don’t shout!”) I’m steaming: (“But how in hell did he ever find out?”) Disconnected: (“Hide! Oh my God! He’s loading his gun!”) I’m detected: (“I think there’s some packing I’d better get done.”) There won’t be a sound, When he does come around, because I’ll be gone way out west.