Once apon a time,
There was that Lad,
Who was not so sly'
More of the shy guy,;
With girls;
No much success;
The Lad was just too direct'
When he asked some girls;
D'ya w'anna have some sex.
A whol'lotta hands came across his face'
But the Lad took it with grace

Red hand marks on the cheeks,
And sorrow at hurt
He dropped out'ta the race
And press start.

And he went off course
On the inner net,
Turning to surf...
And the screen was wet,
And the keyboard sticky
But the Lad was happy,
Although he felt a little crappy.

Time has passed'
And blistars began showing
On his hands, and joystik
Pain' every time he was boni'n,
But as said before
The lad was too shy.

When they said doctor
He used to jonnson
But it still
burns so much
The Lad could not stop
He got the idea of the shampoo
Just like a blow
It came to his mind
So the Lad went inside.

At the beginning
It was just
With the tip of the tong.
But practis makes perfect,
And reflexibility really paid up.

Eventually in the room
The Lad began rolling
With a head in the mouth.
Just like faust.

And After many practice
N' morn'n gym
The Lad finally
Got his whim,
From the mushroom
To the root
In all went in,
And then ...

shoot.

They found him rolled
Into himself.
No one imagined
Such a leathel
Bedside shelf.