Seth, your Pleasurer, engorged, pulls slightly to the left.
But that is no cause not to love it, nor subject it to scorn.
Because, from its pulse-rhythmic bobbing girth, it will heft
long strings of your e'lated sweetstuff, glistening and airborne
across the plane of the sky-blue sheet on our bed
(and the prude can wring his or her hands at what has just been read).
I am always glad to give you a hand at moving your climax ... ahead.
Starward*Led