I did as I was told. I purchased pheremones
at prices that were, as advertised, unbelievable.
I sprayed until I reeked, sported a fake Rolex,
hit a few bars. To cut a long story short:
Got lucky with a stunner, brought her home;
impressed her with my batchelor's degree,
enthralled her with my large, long-standing manhood.
Coiled in post-multi-orgasmic bliss, we whispered
lovers' promises - I almost cut her in
on that sweet Nigerian deal, but then I thought
of my Petrova, shortly to arrive
from icy Moscow; the warmth between her thighs,
the bliss I'd bought with sixty easy payments.
What more could a man want? What have you got?
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