The Reappearing Prick
“She bends to carry out her quest
And puts her hand into his breeches
And feels around until she reaches
A proud prick straining at the bit;
She cups her hand and fondles it.” […]
“She bends to carry out her quest
And puts her hand into his breeches
And feels around until she reaches
A proud prick straining at the bit;
She cups her hand and fondles it.” […]
“Walter steadies himself and butts
In almost burying his nuts,
And with such vigor plays his part
That from her ass comes a large fart.” […]
Cavorting lustily at play.
She, pleased with the festivities,
Said to the doing fellow, “Please,
Let’s think up names to give my dear,
To your thing there and my cunt here.” […]
“What? I in love?” he tells her. “Hardly!
I find your jealousy ungodly.
I’m nearly dead from making love,
And this is all you’re thinking of!” […]
–“What are you asking for it, tell?”
–“My lady, for a fuck it’s yours.”
–“Saint Peter help me now, because
I haven’t any fuck to trade!” […]
“The imp came to the gates of Hell
Toting both bag and fart as well,
And tossing the bag down when he entered,
And thereupon the fart was vented.” […]
“May it roast in the fires of Hell!
You’ve grabbed your wiener, I surmise.” […]
“And therefore a peasant befouls
The fairest spots and moves his bowels” […]
“Yet he had often held her tight
And naked in his arms at night,
And it only increased her ardor
To feel his parsnip growing harder” […]
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