~:~:~:~
Lust out of control is a fire within,
Underneath and below your belly skin.
Starts just like a fire, by a lusty rubbing.
Though extinguished with a lot more friction.
~:~:~:~
~:~:~:~
Lust out of control is a fire within,
Underneath and below your belly skin.
Starts just like a fire, by a lusty rubbing.
Though extinguished with a lot more friction.
~:~:~:~
In olden days
the Church sold
sin offset credits
called Indulgences.
Essentially,
after life insurance
in the form of
coupon vouchers
for debaucheries
yet to be committed.
Rates were determined
by severity of sin.
Subject to terms
and conditions
of course.
Now-a-days,
such vouchers
are no longer sold.
Instead,
they are exchanged
for penitent tasks.
Like, for example:
Climbing the Sacred Steps.
That’s good for
seven whole years
off your time
in Purgatory.
And as long as you’re
“truly penitent
and contrite”
you can get
an Indulgence
for following
the Pope’s Twitter feed.
Got to keep up
with the times
after all.
We rode there,
In tandem.
The beach was,
Abandoned.
~:~:~
Got sand in,
Our shoes.
And our clothes.
Couldn’t stand ’em.
~:~:~
So we got sand,
In every,
Crevice,
At random.
Tenderize me thoroughly,
Till I’m limp and moist.
Then, grill me lightly,
Just until I’m hot.
Seared on the outside,
Yet still soft,
Pink in the middle.
Serve me up rare and juicy,
But don’t wolf me down.
Savor slowly, my tenderloins.