Dario Dalla Lasta

Horny, horny janitor

Horny, horny janitor

 

horny, horny janitor

Horny, horny janitor
Why dost thou grab at thy crotch?
Is it to clean out your rusty pipes?
Perhaps it’s to soil my own filthy mind.
A man in such a uniform as yours plays tricks on me;
Maddening, thunderous thoughts
Engorge my aching head and spill into my quivering gut, creating an urgent need.
Only you, horny janitor
Can satisfy a craving as base as mine.
Dost thou know this?
I beg of thee—set those piercing eyes upon mine, dirty janitor
And grab at my throbbing crotch posthaste.

What's on your mind?

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