Faking it

Faking it

Come on get on with it, I haven't got all fucking day, do what you got to do, just hurry up and play

That's it stick it in, go on thrust it around and around, I'll pretend I'm enjoying it, I'll make my faking sound

The ones that make you feel good, you'll feel just like a stud, I'll even raise my hips for you even though you are a dud

I will call you baby, scream and stick painted nails into your back, though in my head I'm shopping, your so shit when in the sack

No wonder I have to play away, to find some proper cock, at least when I'm with my poet, I'm not looking at the clock

He fills me with desire, i reach orgasm in this bed, shame he's on a web page and the fucks inside my head

Oh well at least he keeps me occupied whilst you try to fuck, how did I get this husband, It must of been shit luck

Oh good you've finished, that's it roll off and go to sleep, I'm off to the poets page for a little peep

At least with him I'll get to cum, he makes me hot and damp, even though I have to use my fingers, I dont mind the cramp

So thank you to the poet, he gives me what I need, deep inside he fucks me, in my head I feel his seed

Ron