On a brisk winter’s eve in our tiny town-home,
I drew a warm bath filled with lavender foam.
But just as I slipped from my fuzzy pink robe
My husband appeared, shouting: “I wanna probe!”
“We can’t bone right now,” I responded posthaste;
“I just drew this bath and it can’t go to waste!”
“I can bathe with you . . .” my man slyly quipped,
As he took off his shirt, and his pants he unzipped.
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He stood there quite bare like a smug, sneaky plotter
Then he entered the tub and tea-bagged the water.
“It will be romantic,” he announced without shame;
So I squeezed in there with him like a nude Tetris game.
His foot dug in my stomach and my knee pierced his back;
One wrong move and I’d have the bar soap up my crack.
“This is not comfortable!” I screamed in his ear;
As I shifted to find a wide spot for my rear.
“Then come sit on my lap if you know what I mean,”
He said as he pointed to his floating peen.
Perhaps ’twas the lavender and the stark husband sighting
But his offer seemed actually quite nice and inviting.
I mounted him for a wet skin-to-skin treat,
And we flopped and we splashed like two mackerels in heat.
When suddenly! In the midst of our hot, thrusting force
I was assaulted by a cock-blocking charley horse.
“Ow-ow-ow!” I yelled. “Dammit! We must stop right now!
My leg has a cramp! We can no longer plow!”
“THANK GOD!” said my husband, who was practically crying;
“My ass has locked up, and I feel like I’m dying.”
We admitted defeat and that our plan had been flawed,
As my husband stood up and dried off his hot bod.
“That ended well,” he said, sarcastically chuckling,
And that was the last time we attempted bath-fucking.