melimelissa
Simply Lost
- Joined
- Mar 20, 2018
- Posts
- 4,958
Another Sick Fuck
What can your guy do, but groan at man flu,
Go to bed - let you pick up the pieces;
Go on: make him hot broth, warm his brow with a cloth
And console him, though he never ceases
To demand all the more, screwed tissues on't floor,
With another hot toddy consumed;
And sure: alcohol is not his only goal,
He may shiver and clench once he's zoomed
Cold hands, going to town, under your gown:
"Ah! Tits!" he adds: "Cunt!" for good measure;
Thank goodness your ass is not in a class
To distract him, as he seeks your treasure;
His sick body's so weak, your soft, outraged squeak,
Will pass by his fever-rid head;
He will only engage, when you're naked: he's plagued
By no scruple, save man flu that wakes
His need to just slide into pussy to ride
This fever that is yet to break;
It's amazing delight: to play through the night
But he plays with cards and his friends in the bar;
Whisky gives insight, which can only be right;
So, clean the mess if the throw up's his thing;
And do not be bereft, as he strokes your dry cleft,
Just think of his cum soaking you - flooding in...
I suppose it may not, if the sweat gets too hot,
But, by morning, he's frail and seemingly meek;
He will never get up, unless first you suck
That wart of a penis: it still tastes of you;
Yet, it's his sunrise skill, to emulate chill,
Disingenuous doses: disgusting man flu...
Meli
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