All dad's attempts at sexual intimacy have been utterly slapstick,
And that's before we factor in a prick that's so unthick.
Dad's public expression of disapproval regarding the term 'spastic' is ballsy
Given his sexual proclivity for kids with cerebral palsy
Modern bogs commentators concede that it's "breathtaking,"
The sheer volume of cock mum continues to keep taking.
There was an ambivalence in your mother's eyes, as if she wasn't fussed,
That at least 300 blokes had spunked in her face (just as previously discussed).
Dad's looking for an unpaid intern
to ignite his poo and watch it burn.
Your dad beams as he's reamed by the oil rigors,
In their collective mind he's faked the cock-size figures.
In the bedroom you mum has to giggle,
It tickles her inside when those gerbils wiggle.
Mum's an elite,
Bogs fuck-athlete.
Dad's sexual drives,
Ruin kids' lives.
the kindest possible thing that could be written on your mum's gravestone:
"only quintuple penetration with no lube could make this jaded fuck-slave moan".
