You know that I am hung,
And I love how you cuff me.
And I can be with you like this for days, weeks, scores,
Ally Handjo’.

You’ve got both hands on my rocket—
My dream is coming true,
Cream is coming due.

You pry above mi bolsita;[1]
You’re in my man grove with your fingers—
Up, down, you.

You show that you love this boy. . .
Hot, my flexed pico,[2] the joint.
At this point, it’s ’bout to ooze. . .
Nuts mix I’ll lose.

Oh, maul my stake, Ally Handjo’!
Oh, maul my snake, ¡A la mano![3]
My shot will strafe,
My shot will strafe the techo.[4]

Don’t wanna kiss, just want a touch,
Just stroke one bigerect, then gush.
Oh, maul my stake, Ally Handjo’!
Oh, maul my snake !ah, frotando¡[5]

¡A la mano!, Ally Handjo’
Ally-Ally Handjo’
¡A la, a la mano!

(Don’t stop, please—I’m set to go, Ally Handjo’, just whet me so!)

Cease that strokin’?
Are you jokin’?!!
With lust I’m crazy.
I’m your boyfriend—ply that hand, must pry that gland!
That maul’s aflame and yearns for more fin-
gers gripping it tight, that’s right—make that tool be glad.

It blows at last—what joy!
Shot, my flexed pico, the joint,
At this point, it’s ’bout to snooze.

“Buffet the cooze!”


[1]sack
[2]c0ck
[3]by hand
[4]ceiling
[5]rubbing