"Dooby, dooby, dooby," that's the inflection!
Whither this stranger in the night? To offer
To bring amorous hump bouts—rage-us dork-poon,
Take me in arms after we've both had doubles
And then repose in bed, spooned? To lie, to sleep. . .
Not snore! 'cause by a sleep, I don't mean rest.
On the make, I want to do more than just talk;
I want an affair with a consummation.
And wow! She's such a dish! To lie, to sleep.
To sleep, perchance to stream, thighs bared to rub.
Bored in the deep, "l'il death," a stream may come,
And I will have sloughed off that mortal "oil."
But I give pause as we inspect
Each other visually, our glances rife.
Would she bare me, use whips and chains, me tied,
With oppressed schlong, a prowed man, costumed in
Latex and leather duds? But I'll belay
Now such interesting thoughts and I'll turn
My attention to excitement her smile makes
In me, her languid eyes a limpid lake
I'd dip bare bod in. I'd barge, like a bear,
To grunt and sweat with a for-evening wife. . .
Ursine-uxor nocturne, then the "little death."
We discover each other and sojourn,
Travelers in this room, puzzled but thrilled,
Both in a lather. . .rare to fillip grabs,
Fly to smother each other. . .thoughts of love,
Both conscious that on the couch we may ball,
Engage in raging screws of dissolution.
I sidle o'er with my male mast aloft,
A timber-rise in great shivered movement.
We now regard each other eye-to-eye.
And soon we are in action. Soft? Oh no!!
'tis carnophilia, nymph and I carousing.
Me, thanks to Sin[atra], deep-membered.