Size Matters!

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.