he has a lot of low
Hanging baggage
Walking in the baggage claim with
Loose grey
Sweat shorts
And in baggage,
I mean balls
And he’s proud of it.
he can hit me
With his baggage any day
And I’d love to go on a
trip with him.
it barely hangs in his shorts
It’s like two big juicy
Lemons
I don’t care if they’re sour
I just want a taste
A little drip
From his ripe
Balls hanging from
The tree
the forbidden fruit
so succulent.
so juicy
teabagging me
I just want to smell
His sweat
Smell his must
Put them in my
Mouth
