One starry night, when the moon was just right,
Drank the octopus and the pussycat,
When they were both were pie-eyed,
A fine hobbit they spied,
And at the same time said both “I’d hit that!”
So using their charms, tucked him under their arms
And carried him up to their room,
Where their lust took control,
Tentacles, tongue, and hole,
Took him to the edge of Mount Doom,
Eight arms and a tongue, and the night was just young,
There was nary a part left untouched,
There was many a groan, the hobbit held his own,
Though in moments a little nonplussed,
At the height of the action, a guttural reaction,
Each screaming to their deity,
Despite lack of coherence, a religious experience,
Orgasms had by all three!


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