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- Erotic Poetry
- Size Matters!
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When I answered your ad
you promised me a whopper
of least eleven inches.
Hmm. I didn’t bring my ruler,
but it seemed a tad
diminished
I need a man who stretches me,
who will slide inside
and fill me wide
until I scream,
Fuck me now, you’re killing me!
So I’m sorry, stud:
a chipolata just won’t do it.
I really, really hoped for more,
but when your trousers hit the floor,
you absolutely blew it.
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