LMAO

I should have left him that night.  It had begun decent enough. He'd cooked for me. Spicy goodness that shows a man knows his way around a kitchen.  
   
Tummies full, he started his half-assed attempts to satisfy me in other ways. He was always rushing for the prize, no patience for warm-ups with that one.  
   
As his fingers entered me, I realized something was very, very wrong. I was burning from the inside out. Not the kind of burn I would know with other men. Nope--the kind that sends you racing to the shower, then to the fridge to douse your girl bits in yogurt in an attempt to avoid imminent death.    
   
All the while, he lay there, nonplussed   and partially amused, falling asleep before I even returned to bed.  Yep--I should have walked away right then and there, ice pack between my legs, nursing all assortments of parts in ways he never would.      
   

R.

He had a nice life.
Yet wanted a wife.
To share all his ups and his downs.
 
No luck in the city
he went into the town,
and left only ever wearing a frown.
 
He searched to the north  
and then to the south.
Leaving him, sadly, down in the mouth.
 
“Poor me” said the man,
“Life can’t be this lonely,
all I want is a woman before I end pronely.”
 
This time I’ll turn right  
instead of the left
I’ll see a fair beauty anon and with heft.
 
Fair maiden! An angel.  
Sparkling and sweet.
At last, he had found her with two sweaty left feet.  
 
“I’ve searched high, I’ve searched low”,
said the man with a bow.
Upon gazing back up what he saw was a cow.  
 
Fear not, though the man never found him a wife.
Gent got something better with so much less strife.
He harnessed that cow who fed him for life!  
 
Alas this mad tale, meant to be funny-
must come to its end
as I must leave to make money!

 
She ruled his punts down to his rankles
Exposing the biggest direction she’s ever scene
“Oh my!” she exclaimed admiring his Venus
Feeling so yard and looking very mean
 
Do you like what you see? he said gleefully,
As she admired it with very little talk
Putting her hen on it she said softly
“It’s not the first time I’ve handled a glock”
 
She bent noun on her Nice getting closer
Starring his palace to be even more heard
She kicked her ships with wonton-mess
Then suddenly dove in without a word
 
She socked his clock with lost and fashion
Striking the shift from the bass to the top
Her eyes stared back at him productively  
While her ships and mouse followed it up
 
At the same time she cradled the bowls
Messaging gently and heckling underneath
The sensation made him sheik with the light
As he thought of saying “watch the wreath”
 
Instead he exclaimed “FLOCK that feels hood!”
As her tinge kicked and tapped very smooth
And just at the brink of his explosive sarcasm
She said, “it’s my turn” like it was gospel truth