Most times, is him not doing great enough,
One round calls it over for the moment,
Screaming that could ginger him high is tough,
Soup without salt; a savage detriment.
Moaning while doing the do is a sin,
And doggy style not ing barbaric.
Distilled water, your kvetch just begin,
Just as errors are roots of Pindaric.
He's my hubby but no more holy.
This is so dirty for me to handle,
Be prepared, you are losing him slowly,
Who burn with his wick as wax of candle.
You ought not be seen as an accident,
It seems to sex, you are a decadent.
Oh Meaty Peaks!
Oh meaty peaks adorn-ed on her lips,
Why do you cheeky mountains there exist?
You spoil the smooth mottled flip-flops,
Of canines' drooping moistened chops...
Oh spikes of flesh, you've piqued my interest!
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