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Image for the poem After A Fulfilling F*ck

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)...
Written by SweetOblivion
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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