I kid you not. Via Neil Gaiman.
What floods of bliss! What melting transports! What agonies of delight!
Oh my dearest, pull out your mighty stallion and let my thighs and linens receive your effusion!
Redouble the active energy of your thrusts, lest I die from my own inflamed appetites!
Please sir, I beg you! Ease back your attack so that I may compose myself to compass the admission of that stupendous head of your machine!
Ah, let your fingers play and twine in the young tendrils of silky down that cover’d the very seat of my womanhood!
Oh Sir! . . . Good Sir! . . . pray do not spare me! ah! ah!
Zo schrijven ze er tegenwoordig geen meer.