|| SIR RICHARD
It takes a man to a man’s member take,
And then from its issue his thirst to slake,
Yet what shall be said of the man that toils,
Intent to receive to his face the spoils?
He is a one by all senses nourished;
Roused by what pleasures they’ve each one flourished
Upon a mind more famished than a gut.
For he deigns to swallow his partner’s jut
And spirit instantly away its bliss.
Rather, he’s raptured by the sloppy kiss
Of a warm essence splashed upon his skin;
By its pungent scent perched upon his grin;
By the audible thok of connection;
By the macro’d sight of an erection
At the moment of its most gloried goal;
And, not the least, by the greedy patrol
Of a wet tongue about his dripping lips,
Careful to cut where a swallower rips!