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deepundergroundpoetry.com
After A Fulfilling F*ck
If passers-by would only sweep as good
As she could, would they keenly search for rakes
Or other tools? Or see how a pet takes
Her time to scramble up (as well she should)?
After fulfilling, fucking on sir's wood,
She felt so full of fuck she'd almost break
Or splinter into shards, for he'd just make
So merry with her holes, he'd ease her mood;
She would be sloppy, rising from the dust,
Before resuming gardening, as if
Nothing had occurred; viscous supplies
(Of sperm) were simply not something that just
Trickled between her thighs gently; they'd lift
The spirits (with her thoughts on passing spies)...
As she could, would they keenly search for rakes
Or other tools? Or see how a pet takes
Her time to scramble up (as well she should)?
After fulfilling, fucking on sir's wood,
She felt so full of fuck she'd almost break
Or splinter into shards, for he'd just make
So merry with her holes, he'd ease her mood;
She would be sloppy, rising from the dust,
Before resuming gardening, as if
Nothing had occurred; viscous supplies
(Of sperm) were simply not something that just
Trickled between her thighs gently; they'd lift
The spirits (with her thoughts on passing spies)...
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