I knew a chap who was quite pissed
about his bad cunnilingus
when with his lovely blond-haired lass named Beth.
For no matter how he tried
when he was done poor Beth just sighed,
“That didn’t do it, Horace!” in one breath.
It mattered not his true comport
or whether tongue went long or short
the hoped for results simply never came.
And as the years went drifting by
the sighs did stop but Beth would cry
because the results always were the same.
Horace was a total wreck
with wounded pride and stiff sore neck
but still he tried his best to get it right.
His tongue might thrust or simply dangle
while he’d try to find an angle
hoping there would be success one night.
Then finally after many years
he managed to overcome fears
and get something to help him do the job.
He had his tongue pierced at a shop
in hopes that nothing would now stop
success with his smooth shiny new brass knob.
And so that night to her surprise
with glowing smiles and shining eyes
Beth exploded with a final burst!
Horace saw her beaming face
and knew he’d found that special place.
“Damn, those wasted years!” he loudly cursed.
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