The missus pounded mine posterior... causing percussive rumpus

Meanwhile good n plenty vibrations resonated

felt and heard round the world wide web
(strongest quaking sensations

occurred upon double mattresses atop bed

within apartment unit b44
2 Highland Manor Drive),

but woody d'ya believe

drumming, flagellating
and whipping gluteus maximus

spurred surging aftershock tremors

launched rocketed pecker
(property yours truly).

Imagine slap happy spouse

ain't misbehavin

just being her playful
(think cheeky) self

knick knack paddy whacking

undeservedly thrashing,
pummeling, beating
the living daylights
buttucks long past their prime
formerly cute palm pilot tushy,

now subjected courtesy
cruel aging process
wrought ugly human cellulite,
nevertheless I made

feeble attempts to rear up in protest

against asinine wifely antics,

while she obviously disregarded

feebly wailing for nought
me lamely uttering
friggin bloody murder in vain.

Zee spouse ain't no sadomasochist,

she just thrills
treating gluteus maximus (mine)

as a plaything

(think cat toying with mouse)

thwacking me fleshy behind

until derriere belonging to yours truly
feels comfortably numb.

Thee aforementioned shenanigans

predominantly arise, when

wedded counterpart owns advantage,

whereby I eagerly welcome shut eye

lo and behold only to experience
mine hinny quickly getting smacked

after I barely shuttered these tired eyelids
sneaking couple winks.

What recently began as

whimsical spur of
kickstarting moment
ushering tactile kibitizing

suddenly became nightly ritual,
whereby this humble husband

meekly surrenders bare bottom

(actually partner with skewed enjoyment

at my expense)
pulls off outer clothes
plus underpants (elasticity

long since stretched out)

wallopping me bum

until flesh heavily
spindled, lacerated, and bruised.