Night fell on Montmartre and, gazing into my love's eyes Over a candelit chequered tablecloth, Beneath my belt lurked rancid lust, The seams of my ******* oozing desire, My groin drenched in desire for his wanton ****-flesh.
Streetlight shone through threadbare curtains Harnessing proudly over my twitching buttocks; My screamed climaxes echoing In deepest recesses of Parisian dawnings. My clear goal: swallow his salty comings.
Morning exposes a sordid scene to chambermaid's gawp: Spreadeagled cold-as-chilled-salami bozo, Puny synapses crushed like mashed strawberries Blasted smithereens of overpowering ******* Like chicken's entrails in an unwashed sink.