John, you old sentimentalist, you!
Nicholas, L15 looks (to me) to be a syllable too long. Can't quite get it to fit the meter.
When the naked Swedish hooker
who, in truth, was quite a looker
walked up and down my spine in new stilettos,
it was so excruciating,
yet supremely liberating;
completely injudicious,
though incredibly delicious,
like when you wolf down two or three Cornettos.
But the joy it generated
sadly was not replicated
when my wife, as in some film of Zeffirelli’s,
threw off pinny, blouse and girdle,
(as the milk began to curdle)
and removed her massive panties
and some other none-too-scanties,
then broke my backbone in her brand new wellies.
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