All of Dwight's parts wandered, especially his doodle. He had the wandering-est doodle in three states. His doodle had its own set of legs. His doodle was hardly at home. Heck, according to rumor Dwight Farris's doodle was hardly ever in his pants.

[…] thinking about her life. She did this in the normal way: roamingly, rebukingly, tenderly, revisingly.

He slid a finger in me, checking to make sure I was moist and ready for him.

And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder.