The parting flab prepares for emission.
The cramps make my bowels brace for submission.
The sphincter never even asks permission.
Before committing an act of such utter derision.
For the thrusts are so hard they blur my vision.
It all comes out in torrents as it completes its mission.
At times, I wish I could make the slightest incision.
Before expelling the next wave of my fecal perdition.
Narration coming soon
Narration coming soon for this voice