There once was a woman called Midge

Who would soberly write about bridge

But her passion and joy

was to shock her three boys

By nakedly cleaning the fridge.


Dear Midge has turned 39

And guzzles down bottles of wine

Says she to her sons

I’ve now got the runs

Come clean up this bottom of mine.


The husband of Midge is so shocked

To see Midge’s bottom unlocked

Says he to the air

I’m not going in there

My penis is only half-cocked.


So now Midge is left all alone

To writhe and to gasp and to moan

She smiles to herself

I’m not yet on the shelf

I can climax just fine on my own.


What next for Midge marvellous and fun?

Will she continue to masterfully come?

Or will she now dare

with great pomp and flare

Finger her husband’s pert bum?

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