When it comes down to it
Dad has a concerning penchant, For the pre-pubescent.
Mum's cunt stinks like The Land That Time Forgot, Medical terminology: crotch rot.
All the farm lads are queued up for a go, And mum's never been one to say no.
From far and wide blokes are flocking To give mum's bum a brutal docking. Undercard: delivering to dad's woeful gens a thorough mocking.
Lyrca-clad dad at the kid's Xmas softplay party stood under the mistletoe, Primed and ready, with a distressingly visible camel toe.
Plenty of blokes eager to deck mum's poo-halls, But nobody's willing to jingle dad's balls.
Mum is Sphinx-like in both disposition and posture, but presumably she enjoys The continuous barrage of bum-pounding meted out by the bogs-boys
Dad's transfixed By kid's pricks.
Mum's always found being completely whoreish, Really moreish.
Mum's offering lifetime guarantees, To all thick blokes, of bogs freebies.
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