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. Now into my shoe, which
is rather salacious. You see, I've 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, oh my god, sir, you make me feel so full. If I didn't know better, I think you were
a ball. 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. The thing that I need, your life-giving
seed. 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.
