Excuse me, sir? Could you spare a moment of your time? I have an issue to discuss regarding
rhyme. Do you have somewhere more private we could converse? The problem I have is somewhat
perverse. I had no idea the rooms at this inn were so spacious. Not one to my issue,
which is rather salacious. You see, I have been given a curse. It forces me to speak
in rhyming verse. The only way to lift this hex is for me to find another to have sex.
The reasons for this solution are quite mysterious, but I assure you, sir, I am quite serious.
So please, sir, come lay with me. Come make me squirm with unbridled glee. That face tells
me all I need to know. Know how about we get on with the show? So how would you like it?
Perhaps gentle and slow? Or maybe hard and rough? Which way shall we go? Oh, sir, the
way your lips feel. They're quite amazing. I beg you continue. Make me your plaything.
Well, I think we should no longer be clothed. We should both be far more exposed. There.
Now isn't that an improvement? Now bend me over. Give me such pleasurable movements.
Oh, my God, sir, you make me feel so full. If I didn't know better, I think you were
a bull. Oh, please, sir, don't slow down. I implore you to go to town. Oh, sir, I can
sense you're getting close. Please fill me with what I need most. Oh, oh, oh, oh, the
thing that I need, your life-giving seed. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, please, sir, harder. I
need to breathe. Only then is my freedom guaranteed. Oh, one thing I failed to mention, the curse
has passed around like a game of tag. So now you'll continue to ride until you can find
yourself a new partner. Oops.
