Domestic engineers amplitude
sexually charged currents
of forbearing boredom.
Geiger counter needle strikes
overload with expeditious impulses
left moist and wanting.
Pacing back and forth
with unoccupied hands
and desires to quickly
plunge with feelers
into the baldest biscuit
of the grandest canyon.
Abruptly reminded to
patiently wait for the
well hung restroom Romeo
to arrive home from the
prime time hours
of the salt mines.
Resisting urges and
mentally keen,
immersed into cleansing
and disinfecting the
unpleasantries of the
necessary household tasks.
Chores and house work
have little or no effect
to distract and preoccupy
perverse soaked minds.
As the protracted day of labor
comes to an end,
adorned ****** features
with makeup accessories
and seductive apparel begins.
Self restrained on the couch
like a puppy dog waiting
for their master to come home.
The boorish blue collar swings open
the door from being frustrated
at the day of drudge and toil.
Delightful afternoons and evenings
with thunderstorms and seclusion,
yearn for meat popsicles
and honey pots.
Under the moonlight, salvia swap
go hand and hand
with stroked salami
and fondled coin purses
while finger blasting fuzz boxes
and ringing the devils doorbell.
Trafficking sloppy deep throated *******
and tongue wrestled lickerish allsorts
from saccharine *******.
Succulent ******* and
pigmented areola's rest atop
mountainous milk factories
groped and squeezed by
fumbling meat hooks.
Bald-headed yogurt slingers
inject goop chutes  
like meat thermometers
into stuffed turkeys
and penetrate with
interchangeable positions
in interaction sequences.
Succumbed temptations
from hair pulling
with moaning and groaning
of the loudest ***** talk
and whispers of the sweetest nothings. Increasing build up for climaxing
and ******* from riding
the steamin' ***** highways
in search for cream pies
and pearl necklaces.
After *** cigarettes smoked
and passed between
two passionate lovers
after hot steamy coitus
is like the after dinner mint
of the finest liqueur.
Beeline to the bathroom
and pass out for a short nap
from over joyous relief
and relaxation.
Change the baby battered
bed sheets and wipe the
*** off with the
designated rag.
No one can end this poem
.....but I can.