There was a young lady named WhiteFound herself in a terrible plight:A mucker named TuckerHad struck her, the fucker,The bugger, the bastard, the shit...!There was a young fellow of KentWho had a peculiar bent.He collected the turdsOf various birds,And ate them for lunch during Lent.There once was a harlot at YaleWith her price-list tattooed on her tail,And on her behind,For the sake of the blind,She had it embroidered in Braille.There was an old lady of CheadleWho sat down in church on a. She felt her desire for conquest shift from that of land to something more primal.He stood before her then, nude and beautiful, a princess born to the wrong life, his hair a fine strawberry blonde, his eyes a deep blue, his manhood while not so small as to warrant a mocking by the average man was not particularly something to write home about. She felt curious.A man returned to the room bearing two identical blades. Belind, trying to ignore the piercing stares around him picked each up,. Around mid-afternoon that day, I heard a soft knock at my door. I had spent the morning and early part of the afternoon making sure I looked as sexy as I could, I was dressed in a crop top and tight jeans that exposed the taut muscles of my flat stomach and emphasized my small but round and full breasts, my hair was loose around my shoulders and face. I was suddenly nervous, I hadn’t actually thought that he would come, even though I hoped he would. I opened the door and there he was, seeming. (walk on the streets of electronic city) We were talking about everything personal but sex was not the topic. We were so much indulged in personal things that our faces were just 1 feet away from each other. She started giving gazes at my lips and my eyes. I understood but kept quite, then she wetted her lips and smiled. I understood and pecked her on lips. That’s all we could do on street. We parted away with a hug.We were chatting again and I said: ” I wanted to press your hefty boobs but.