The 4th in my infamous COUNT ORLOK sequence*

The sweat pours down my back
As I pound into her
Grunting like a hippo
(me, not her, as corpses tend not to grunt,
at least in my wide experience as a corpse-*******)
And her bloodless body
Gets another load of my filth
Up the back trapdoor;
And, to think, I still have
A good bucketful of blood
To drink for supper
When I get back home,
Unless it's coagulated by now,
In which case I shall be well *******.
And may have to send out for a chinkie takeaway instead.