This poem is only available on Lush Stories. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

Her apple catchers hit the floor
His whanger splitting seams
A boff was on the cards tonight 
For this box of assorted creams

Her kitten noses hard and erect
Quickly with one pull
Kojak’s roll neck soon retracted
On his hardened Kosher dill

Fizzing at the bunghole
Good god now she was smitten
His hand slid over her beetle bonnet
And spanked her wet fish mitten

Her passion flaps they tingled
Choking his blue veined custard chucker
There was no denying now
That he was gonna fuck her

His beaver cleaver pulsing
She felt it and she swooned
She grabbed his arse and lost control
He pummelled her axe wound

Like an Apache riding bareback
With no Casanova’s sock
On top she got like a sausage jockey
Bouncing on that cock

Fun bags flailing all in his face
For him to suck and slurp
Mounting air from his meat seeking pissile
Forced one hell of a fanny burp

With every stroke the population paste
Rose further out of storage
He chucked his muck, her gash left looking
Like a bulldog eating porridge

-This poem would not have been possible without 'Roger's Profanisaurus'.

This poem is only available on Lush Stories. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.