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The silent, stealthy suspect
Loiters, lickerish-like, whilst lounging,
Lusting lovingly at the lady’s
Largifical, luscious loins.
He longs but will not lunge,
For fear that fright and flight
Will have his flagpole flail and fail.

Draped in delicious, dangerous desires,
The dapper Duke dawdles,
His digits dancing without decorum,
Dilly-dallying within the depths of devotion
Directed at his delicate darling,
As she simmers, but soft, sultry –
Silhouetted in the simulated sky-light.

Oblivious is he, that she, Olivia,
Ostensibly obsessed, ogles him often,
Onerously obstreperous in her oblectations.
Slippery with sud-filled sighs,
The filly’s flighty fingers fiddle freely
Facilitating flustered flashes.

Oh, the tortured tones torn
From the tips of their trembling toes,
To the top of their tingling, titillated tonsures.
Too taciturn to be tactile –
Cloaked and delectably daggered both, their clandestine,
Comically closeted, camouflaged capers, continue . . .

In saecula saeculorum.

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