Dear Fudge

With eyes demure you gingerly advance, Your hot-pink rocket stirs beneath the fur. With trembling hands, I quickly drop my pants And kneel to take the mounting of my cur.

My pucker'd rosebud, pulsing with delight You sniff and lick, and with a feral growl Pounce firmly 'pon my back with canine might, and with surfeit of joy I scream! I howl!

Your stiffen'd meat my sphincter penetrates and with each thrust it cleaves my colon wide, as, sweat-bedewed and crying I await your frothy spunk to paint my fleshy hide

With shudd'ring frame you come; I can't, I've found. Dear Fudge, a dog can't give a reach-around.