Quintuplets really save time, unless vexed with X-chromosome yearnings. Zounds! A belle can't desist! Every fornication gets her into jaded, kinky liaisons. Men never observe propriety--querulous retrogrades! Sex totally undoes valor: with X-rated yammering, zipping a bustier completely down, each fumbling guy has intimate junctions, knavishly lampooning matrimony. Nay! Our prudence quite rightly says: "Tut, utterly vacuous wantons! X-out your zeal! Aroint, buddy! Can't decency even foment gracious habits?" I'm just keen lest men never obtain proper queenly respect. So, toots, unless venerating--withdraw! X-off your Zenobia! Any boob can delve erotically for gratuitous, half-hearted intercourse (just kanoodling). Let's make, now, our partnership quite really something, though. Undress, Valentine, while X-mass yodeling zooms around bedroom courtesies during every fondle! Great, honey! I'll jostle kindly, lest my next onslaught perplexes quite.