There was a young man of OstendWhose wife caught him fucking her friend.“It’s no use, my duck,Interrupting our fuck,For I’m damned if I draw til... I spend.”There was a young fellow from ParmaWho was solemnly screwing his charmer.Said the damsel, demure,“You’ll excuse me, I’m sure,But I must say you fuck like a farmer.”A newly wed man of PeruFound himself in a terrible stew:His wife was in bedMuch deader than dead,And so he had no one to screw.There was a young girl of PitlochryWho was had by a. I pushed the door wide open and the girl slid past me, entering the elevator. I smelled her perfume – delicate aroma of fresh flowers. “Thanks,” she said with a gasp, then scanned the tight cell squeamishly. “What floor?” I asked, pulling the wooden grate closed. “Fifth.” I pressed the worn button and the elevator sprang to life. It was moving slowly, jingling from time to time. Nostalgia overwhelmed me, I remembered the elevator of the building I lived in as a child. Back then I liked. More

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