Some fantasies are neverending
(Like sex beneath a porte-cochère)
That, mesmerized, one can't help spending
One's time and money in despair
Of ever in said place embracing
A partner who'll get your heart racing
While dogging her, with verve and flair,
Safe from the rain in sheltered air.
Sometimes our needs are somewhat silly,
For even if she'd lift her dress
And bare herself for my caress,
The open air would be too chilly
For it to be exactly fun—
The cold would leave me quite undone.
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