She called me the son of a gun since then.
She slunk out of her room–and into mine.
I had money and have something more good;
I think she was attracted to money,
She walked into an empty sitting room
And made her way to the door of my room.
Where is decency in all of this act?
Without a knock she slid in through the door.
I stood facing a mirror and shaving
In my birthday suit, with no strap on me.
Shocked as we both appeared to be, she cringed.
It was the rutting season, so we hugged.
And I emptied my lively seeds deep down.