I appreciate your hairless legs,
So smooth, pressed up against me,
The rolling curve of your lovely hips,
And your bosom still astounds me;
I wanted to give you a wonderful gift,
So I shaved my legs with your razor,
I ran my fingers up and down,
So sleek, so fine, so sexy,
So I kept shaving on my legs,
‘cause if hairless legs are super nice,
Shouldn’t skinless legs be nicer?

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If I was a monster,
My teeth would be sharp,
I’d be ten feet tall,
Or real small (just like Garp),
My fingers would be spindly,
My nails: raptor’s talons,
My feet would be fleet,
With breath stank like a felon’s,
If that felon’s bunkmate was burly,
And held him down with force,
Hands holding like vices,
Hips pumping, of course,
Then unloading betwixt the unwillingest lips,
That’s how my breath would smell,
But it doesn’t, you see:
For I am no monster,
Not going to hell,
I’m not ten feet tall,
Nor small like John Irving,
My fingers are normal,
My nails: unassuming,
My feet are just feet!
And my breath is not stank as I so delicately greet,
The lovely young lady who’ll gnaw on my meat,
Sometime after this dinner of saurkraut and beets,
A romantical meal of extraordinary feats!
But oh! I’m digressing with unbound conceit!
I am not a monster,
I am not, you’ll see,
Now be sweet and quiet,
I’m taking this key,
You’ll stay bound and gagged ‘till our next sodomy.

You know your tits are round and firm,
Your belly’s flat,
Your hips are round,
And the only think tighter than your pussy is your ass,
But your problem is you’re loud and grabby,
You kick in your sleep,
And you’re always gabby,
My secrets aren’t secrets when the whole world knows my secrets,
And you’re not really a lady when your lady parts don’t have arms,
Don’t have legs, a neck or a head,
Which I still need to dispose of,
I’m keeping your torso,
It’s my torso now,
And while I won’t miss your jabber,
My knob will be lonely without that dick-sucking mouth of yours.