It’s in our genes to fornicate.
A pleasure we much advocate.
We have great need to illustrate
capacity to captivate.
Our aura we exaggerate
and private parts we depilate.
Ply creams so skin won’t corrugate
and blemishes don’t replicate.
Wield loofahs to exfoliate.
Add rich scents to infatuate.
With baubles bright that pendulate
in efforts to become ornate.
From heads protrude our ears lobate.
With pins and studs we can punctate.
Dangle earrings from orbs prolate.
The same both sides to counterweight.
And draped across our omoplate,
gold necklaces with charms lunate.
On fingers, stones of silicate
that jewellers facet and serrate.
Wristlets the size of a vamplate
enhance the task to self-decorate.
To bed we go with lustful gait
We’re ready now to titillate.
We pucker up and osculate,
agreeing to inseminate.
Fast comes the time to penetrate.
We clinch secure and consummate.
When swimming sperm capacitate
the female seed can germinate.
A nine-month sentence to gestate
in warm dark caves that incubate.
The bulging tummy we palpate
and feel a being palpitate.
The swollen breasts start to lactate.
New life begins to maturate
With great success we procreate.
Hold lovingly our neonate
and back slap to congratulate
the ease with which we propagate.
Though if we’re gay instead of straight
or just prefer to masturbate,
men can their penis elongate
and harmlessly ejaculate.
Or women can the hips gyrate
and with a dildo self-vibrate.
Then sperm and eggs stay inchoate
and children don’t proliferate.