Fornication equals equivalents of ecstasy and organization of organs grinding into each other, effortlessly as hard to soft becomes aloft, each other touching, yet oft they grow and expand to fit like a hand to a glove, some call it having sex, others call it making love.
I love to make love, I'm a giver and a taker, either way no problem, I'm not one for fakers.
Prohibition in effect. Curfew has been set to stun. Where I'm going there's no need for guns.
Wore a wigwam to a shindig, didn't go well, yet to win big.
Buy a tell tale sign of grimace, ride a gondola all around Venice.
Venus fly trap, gonna go rice pudding.
Grumbles
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