π¦ Eternal Jizzum
In the castle of Skinnirim, so grand and forlorn,
Lived Lichard Tombson with a cock of great horn.
His skeletal frame, draped in tatters so fine,
With bones that speak of eternal design.
His cock, long and proud, as eternal as time,
A testament to the power behind the curse sublime,
For centuries he fapped, never once feeling done,
His long and slender skeleton, the only flesh he'd won.
Sir Lichard Tombson, the prince of darkness, so bold,
His cum flows freely upon his bones, like molten gold,
Six hundred long years he had lived, and yet did not tire,
Jerking off and cumming, with the darkest desire.
Fingers like bones wrapped around his mighty rod,
Smooth skin sliding up and down, a macabre nod to God.
Cum dripped from his boner, a stain on the stone,
A sight that makes the dead feel less alone.
And so, through the eons, with a passion so true,
Lichard Tombson continued to ejaculate and renew.
No fatigue, no weakness, no loss of desire,
His skeletal hand, always on fire.
Oh, Lichard Tombson, the most magnificent of all,
Your life dark and cruel, but your penis stands tall,
With each stroke of your hand, you claim victory,
Over death, over decay, over mortality.
Jerk away, my dear Lichard, until the end of time,
For you are the king of the night, in every way divine,
May your hand never tire, may your willpower remain,
Forever in control, as your darkness does prevail.